Breakfast is over and we’ve just come from the Evora Tourism Office. We picked up maps and found out where the only bicycle repair shop is in town.
“What are you going to do if the shop can’t repair the freewheel and they don’t have a replacement that fits?” I ask Mike. “The Portuguese never throw anything out,” he replies. “They are masters at repairing anything. Besides, all I need are some new ball bearings.” I’m not sure as he is, but I hope he’s right.
The repair shop is a grotty, mess-strewn workshop at the rear end of another store. It is strange how such a décor anywhere else would make you turn around and walk away, but in a bike repair shop it instills consumer confidence. The grizzled repairman turns the damaged freewheel over in his hands a couple times and, without even looking at Mike, tosses it into a pile of rubbish in the corner. “Lixo!” he proclaims – the Portuguese word for ‘garbage’. Mike reclaims the freewheel from the pile of junk. He is looking crestfallen and confused. “Do you have another one like this?” he asks him in Spanish. The old man takes it from him and looks at it again. He curls his lip up in disapproval and simply says
“No”, but he comes up with a cheap freewheel that he is able to make fit to the bike with some heavy-handed coercion. Mike seems pleased enough. “I guess this will last until I get to a better bike shop,” he says hopefully. He has other errands to do so I leave him and walk around the town on my own.
The town is ancient and has loads of character. The medieval walls are worn and mossy. The streets are generally cobblestone. Many of the houses have the renowned Portuguese blue-white ceramic tiling around the windows and flowers in the window boxes. Many statuettes of the Virgin Mary decorate the gardens and porticoes. “Protestants worship Jesus and Catholics worship the Virgin Mary,” Mike would say.
I toured around the many sights, the cathedral started in the 13th century, the university from the 16th century, the palace of Vasco da Gama and ruins of a 1st century Roman temple. I paid to get into the castle. It is a modest size but still exciting because it is the first one I’ve visited on this trip. I meet Mike inside, reading his guide book and soaking in history. He has regained his composure and looks quite peaceful.
After half an hour in the castle, we search out the second largest church in the town, Saint Francis, which has the most interesting attraction of all the town, at least to me. If it doesn’t turn you off religion, nothing will. It is the 15th century “Capela dos Ossos”, the Chapel of Bones, decorated entirely with the bones of monks and pious parishioners. I wouldn't be surprised if there are a few witches and fags cemented into the walls too. Above the door a sign in Latin reads (translated) “We bones that are here, for your bones we wait”. Kind of makes one all warm and fuzzy just thinking about it, doesn’t it?
Back at the Pensao Giroldo, we meet an American couple who have been cycling around for some time. We had discussed going diagonally south-west across the Alentejo to Sagres after we leave Evora, but the Americans highly recommend taking the inland route, following the Spanish border south to the Algarve. It seems like a plan.
Mike and I received several responses to our ad in Gai Pied, the French gay magazine, looking for hosts on our trip through France. I made a list of their names, addresses and phone numbers before I left Toronto. I take some time tonight to write to a couple of them who wrote back in English. The others I give to Mike as he is fluent in French and I am not.
PHOTO 1: Place Giraldo
PHOTO 2: Roman temple to goddess Diana
PHOTO 3: Evora street
PHOTO 4: Evora Cathedral
PHOTO 5: drainage gargoyle at castle
PHOTO 6: ceramic tiling around local windows
PHOTO 7: "We bones that are here, for your bones we wait."
PHOTO 8: Chapel of Bones detail, skulls
PHOTO 9: Chapel of Bones detail, hanging out
PHOTO 1O: Chapel of Bones, Catholic Gothic
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