Porto to Coimbra to Fatima and Beyond

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How quickly the busy days rush by! We've been travelling in Portugal for a week, and now there are only a few days left on this trip. Porto is a lovely, hilly city; built on both sides of the equally lovely Douro River. On our first evening here we took a short river cruise, enjoying, of course, a glass of port as we travelled. I always thought I did not like port as it is too sweet, but after trying it a few times, with one tasting at the Ferreira Port Cellar (reputedly one of the most beautiful), I find that I can enjoy a good tawny or ruby or white, branco, as the Portuguese call it. We learn so many interesting things when we travel!

One morning we had time to explore on our own; two new friends and I decided to check out the churches, and then just to wander. On one street corner a man was intermittently yelling - quite loudly - and clapping his hands for emphasis, calling either his dog, or his wife, or trying to sell something. We couldn't understand him, and people were looking at him out of the sides of their eyes, so we thought he must be yelling something very strange or outside the edges of acceptability. We passed by him very quickly. The churches were beautiful, not exquisite, so we spent our time climbing up steep hills, just looking and observing life in Porto, Portugal. Hanging over one street we climbed there were beautiful hand-crocheted panels strung between apartments across from each other. I have crocheted panels for pillows and windows, so immediately was drawn to these wonderful pieces of handwork. They were all in pastel colors, unique designs; so many were hung high across this street that we followed them almost all the way to the top of the hill. Gorgeous artwork! As I walked underneath I kept thinking of the cooperation needed to hang these panels between apartments across the street from each other, among all the women who crocheted and agreed and worked together to create such a lovely passageway, such a statement of sharing, beautifying their environment and their lives.

Two other amazing places we visited on our tour were Portugal's oldest and most prestigious university in Coimbra, a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 2013, and Fatima, a place I've wanted to visit since I first heard the story of the three little shepherds back when I was seven years old, the same age as Jacinta, the youngest child. I was thoroughly impressed with the majesty and beauty of Coimbra, amazed that so many of us had never even heard of this town, this famous university! And with Fatima it was the opposite, as I had envisioned a field where the children had seen Mary, and instead there was an enormous empty paved area leading down to the Basilica, everything sterile, modern and asphalted over. At first I was totally disappointed as the reality did not match up at all with my imaginings of what it would look like. It would have been better if I hadn't known the story and expected to see green grass, maybe even sheep, or if the plaza had been filled with throngs of people praying. But the Basilica was beautiful, and that evening amid hundreds of people holding candles during a nighttime service and pilgrimage, standing jostled among the crowds, listening to the Mass said in Portuguese, I felt a bit of the power and emotion of Fatima, and the belief of so many honoring Mary, the Lady of the Rosary.

Finally, on our last full day in Portugal, that morning started with a bang. We were still at the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Porto, and at a little after 6:30AM the phone started ringing, very loudly. I wondered who in our group would be calling me so early, and why the phone was so loud. Then the room lights started flashing too, and a voice came from nowhere and everywhere, first telling us in Portuguese and then in English that a fire had broken out somewhere in the hotel and to go out the exit stairs immediately. Half dressed, I quickly put on the rest of my clothes, grabbed my bag with passport and money, and joined the line of others already heading down the exit stairway. It was chilly outside that early in the morning, but I hadn't thought to bring a sweater. People milled around everywhere once we were outside. Some were in bathrobes or pajamas, some had wet hair from aborted showers, but all of us looked either worried, or alarmed, or both. No one knew what to do except to stay away from the building. Finally, after a very long time, ten or fifteen minutes, we heard from other guests that we could return; someone had set off the fire alarm by accident. How that could have happened we don't know, but it was with relief that we were able to return to our rooms and our normal travel day. Everybody was safe; all our belongings were saved too, but what a scary way to start a day. The only good thing about this experience was to think, for a moment, what would be necessary to take in an emergency, exactly only what was dear, what was most precious. When our children were little we used to practice fire drills, where to meet outside in the woods, what to grab on your way out one of the doors or windows. Depending on their ages, the children would take a beloved stuffed animal, or a cat, and run outside holding it tightly; here almost everyone took their passports and money, although a few people also brought their luggage. This demands thinking about what is absolutely necessary in life, for life. When travelling we bring little compared with what we have at home, but had we been at home, what would we have taken with us? This morning's exercise lent itself to a philosphical debate of what is truly needed, and, now that our children are grown, that answer is surprisingly limited. What do we really need to live well? This morning's scare precipitated some deep thinking; it was not just a fire drill but a call to a much larger decision. The funny thing is, for those of us who have accumulated so much stuff over the years, most of it is unnecessary as we actually truly need very little to live happy fulfilling lives. So, grab your passport, grab some money if you want, certainly take your companion animals, but everything else can be replaced or forgotten. This was indeed a wake-up call, a reminder of what is most important, what is truly necessary, what is essential.

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