I have always loved Portugal, in all countries I have
traveled to, I felt most connected to this land and to this people. Perhaps somewhat because, I don't feel like I have to change anything in me, when I am in Portugal to adjust, to be culturally competent, and to fit in effortlessly. Never have
I appreciated Portugal more than this time.
My people in Portugal, the most beautiful, inside and out, colleagues and friends from University of Porto
I wonder if it is a terrible thing to feel so at home in one culture and not so in others. I recall Tara Brach's teaching "Compassion has two wings, one for yourself, and one for others." I can't help but think I need to take care of myself now in Portugal where I feel safe, physically and emotionally. I am sure, my compassion for Ugandan and African fellow human beings will increase over time when I have given myself some space from it. I can't help but wonder, though, how it would have been if I had chosen to live in Uganda... Would I also have had to learn all the tricks to protect myself from harm and exploitation?
This is how Tara Brach describes the two wings of compassion or lack thereof...
Wasn’t this need to constantly protect myself from corruption, injustice, and not knowing what the next day would bring that made me leave Turkey even when all of these were not as deeply ingrained in the culture as it seems to be in Uganda and worse in many other African countries according to my friend with whom I spent three days in Entebbe just last week?
A street vendor selling roasted chestnuts, can't pass that, so much like home!
My people in Portugal, the most beautiful, inside and out, colleagues and friends from University of Porto
I wonder if it is a terrible thing to feel so at home in one culture and not so in others. I recall Tara Brach's teaching "Compassion has two wings, one for yourself, and one for others." I can't help but think I need to take care of myself now in Portugal where I feel safe, physically and emotionally. I am sure, my compassion for Ugandan and African fellow human beings will increase over time when I have given myself some space from it. I can't help but wonder, though, how it would have been if I had chosen to live in Uganda... Would I also have had to learn all the tricks to protect myself from harm and exploitation?
Wasn’t this need to constantly protect myself from corruption, injustice, and not knowing what the next day would bring that made me leave Turkey even when all of these were not as deeply ingrained in the culture as it seems to be in Uganda and worse in many other African countries according to my friend with whom I spent three days in Entebbe just last week?
I repeat and will continue doing so, to myself that everybody wants to be happy
including those fellow men and women in Uganda. I send them my compassionate
wishes, but I am not sure if I can ever live in Africa and now I would like to make sure while donating to NGOs in Africa that the service they promise indeed goes to people in need not only to the salary of professionals. It is too bad that I have come to this
point with only 4 days in Uganda and mostly with what I heard from my friend,
whom I trust 100%. Put it on the side burner for now and keep an open mind for
the next time I will find myself in Africa. That is the best advice I can give
myself.
My love for Portugal started with my dear colleagues
from the Institute of Legal Medicine Porto branch, when they invited me to
teach in Porto. I fell in love with Porto and Gaia and the Doro River in
between these two sister and rival cities that created a mini Istanbul in my mind and heart. Dear Bill was with
me the first time I went there. Teresa and Agustino and other staff of the
institute took such good care of both of us. We fell in love with everything about Porto. Every time I went back, I felt so at home that I never felt anywhere
else in the world, not even in my own country of origin any more (at times)! It warms my heart that Augustino decided to attend the conference in Lisbon, where both Teresa and I will be presenting, just because of meeting again after several years of hiatus since our last reunion around one training or another. This is why I like international training more than anything. Human connection, recognizing that we are all the same when we feel safe physically and emotionally. All suffering and discrimination in fact is bred by fear... Not with these people...
I take the metro from the airport to the hotel where the
conference will be held and all speakers will be staying. Just as Daniela told
me, it is a breeze, very easy to find the station, to get the ticket with the
help of two lovely young tourists, and true, the exit from the metro is right
across from the hotel! The hotel staff is as friendly and humble as the ones I
recall from my previous visits. Good, globalization has not corrupted Portuguese
people, at least, yet. I have very little free time in Lisbon, but I have a plan. On my only, totally free day, I am planning to go to Sintra and
stay in town the day after my lecture at the conference and enjoy Lisbon some reminiscing those areas I had already visited and liked and some finding new gems to explore.
Trip to Sintra is also a breeze. I had bought a ticket that
would allow me transfer to train to Sintra, it was a good plan. 45 minutes
after I leave my hotel, I am at the train station in Sintra! Everybody is
walking toward Sintra downtown, I follow them. A meandering road with
cobble-stoned side walks is climbing up toward our destination past the Municipality
building. Finally, we reach the town square on the right of which is the
white-washed-yellow trimmed National Palace. This is the best-preserved medieval royal residence in Portugal, I learn from Wikipedia. Apparently, it was inhabited more or less continuously from at least the early 15th century to the late 19th century. This palace apparently was one of the two Moorish castles in Sintra, mentioned in historic text as early as 10th century. However, nothing in the castle from Moorish era survived. Instead, rebuilding of the palace in the 15th century created today's National Palace. I might visit it if I have
enough time after I visit through and through the Moorish Castle overlooking Sintra from the top of the majestic hills surrounding the city.
To the left is a very steep and narrow cobble-stoned street
going up the hill, this must be the turn according to what a store-keeper had
told me a while back. Sure enough the signs point to Pena Palace and the
Moorish Castle. The travel books recommend taking a bus to go to the Pena Palace,
which apparently is a Disneyland-like a palace that one of the very flamboyant
kings in Portugal had built. They state, it is much easier to get down to the Castle. But luckily, I still do not have any problems with my physical condition, in fact I seek topographies that involve climbing up heights. Besides, I have no interest in going to a Disneyland-like a structure when history is calling my name. Again my white
hair gets in the way and whoever I ask about walking up to the Castle, they
almost try to talk me out of it. Never mind Resmiye, and starts my day hike...
The steep climb starts on a very good
footing. Every time I need to catch my breath, I discover a spectacular
scenery unfolding below us, the road and I. After all the Pena Palace turns
disappear and the road is closed to all traffic but those who are on foot, the
scenery also becomes very meditative. Green and light blue are such calming and
relaxing colors. Green is all around me, in some places, the colors and habitat
reach rain-forest quality. Grass and flowers are exploding through every crack on the road, on the walls and between cobble stones. And as I reach higher elevation, slivers of blue emerge in the distance, majestic Atlantic...
The place will almost utter "My name is green"
Half way up to the castle, I feel like I am on the Black Sea coast of
Turkey climbing up to Sumele Monastery. The green, the lush, the climb, all are
almost a de ja vu… All rocks are covered with moss, through every crack shoots
life in all shades of green. In a bit, the terrain turns into a staircase. A
wide trail goes up in steps with a variety of height, width, and depth. I wish
I had counted them. The de ja vu now is of a different place, again in Turkey:
Ihlara Valley in Cappadocia in Turkey, to which one has to go down via some
500 steps from the main road. That was also quite some experience.
Sintra starts unfolding as I ascend toward the Moorish Castle
The castle itself is very similar to all other castles I
have visited all around the world, the one in San Juan in Puerto Rico, those I
visited all along the Agean, in Greece are some that come to mind. The higher I
get the more breathtaking the views get, the National Palace looks like a
monument of purity, although, who knows what kinds of conspiracies, plots, and
schemes among colluding sects of the ruling class might have taken there
betraying its pure whiteness. That is cynical Resmiye for you upon encounters with remnants of ruling class of any era in history...
The Atlantic in the distance is as inviting as any body of blue has ever been for me. There is a vague difference between the color of the sky and the ocean, horizon barely discernible. From this distance the ocean seems to be stretching all her expanse into eternal limitlessness in peace and with serenity. Who knows what is actually happening at her surface from close up... At every turn with changing ambience, I do visual meditation, focusing now on the ocean, then on the lush green all around, or the Pena Palace that comes to view as I approach the highest point of the castle.
The castle consists of two rings of walls surrounding it,
the second wall being built at lower elevations: The signs report that the
second layer was built after the first enclosure became inadequate to house and protect
increasing number of residents that had settled within the castle. The trail up is within the outer ring of walls. Thus, I walk up with the outer ring to my left and the inner ring to my right. It gives one quite a sense of security. As I move closer to the entrance to the inner fortress, the boulders appear to grow larger. These are clearly bedrocks of enormous size that make the place even more mesmerizing.
Bed rocks and inner castle walls integrated
Just before I enter the actual fortress, that was built in 8th and 9th centuries, I come across a glass dome that allows the display of well preserved skeletons: This is the burial site of the castle. I learn from the internet that Sintra among other territories was left to Christian rule to establish an alliance with the ruling King's army to provide the settlers security. However that becomes the first step in Muslim Iberia losing its power to Christianity. Moors eventually lose control of the castle. However, the King allows the settlers stay in the castle as long as they work with the King and his army to provide security to the area. Collaborate with me, I will let you live...
Burial site at the Moorish Castle
There is a chapel at the entrance to the outer ring of walls. I learn from the internet that this chapel in fact served all three religions that were practiced in the region, first Muslims, then Christians, and finally Jews that probably were fleeing the inquisition of Iberia at its peak. Once I enter the actual fortress things change dramatically. The well preserved/renovated walls of the castle overlooking the plains below are impressive, emanating power and control, security, but also isolation, loneliness, a sense of being cramped. I wonder if the settlers of its time felt any of that. After all, their limits were the sky above them and the expanse of land and sea as far as eye could see, as long as they didn't wish to go smell and touch and intermingle with any of those.
The expanse of the fortress, the plains, and the ocean
I am impressed with how diverse the international visitors are although, the castle doesn’t seem to be extremely crowded. All kinds of languages are abound, some I can easily recognize, some not at all. I even bump into a Turkish couple, which I recognize from the intonation of the language they speak from a distance that doesn’t allow me discern the words. They are as surprised as I am, the man works in Morocco, and the woman is his wife. They are on vacation, I see them later in town as well. On both occasions, I catch them in a disconcerting interaction, when they didn’t know me witnessing their interaction:
Looking back from the highest point on the walls.
On both occasions she was demanding her husband act a certain way or do something she asked him to. He was in a passive aggressive mood. All that was left to her was scolding her husband with a “You’ll see what will happen” attitude and expression on her face. I am put off with this abrasiveness and feel sorry for both of them, curious about what makes them settle down to a who knows how long of a relationship. This is so common way of an interaction between couples in Turkish culture. I have always wondered why they can’t express their innermost desires and discontent more openly and lovingly, I know understand that the answer lies in how courageously we may accept our vulnerability and embrace it in our close relationships.
Pena Place from the Moorish Castle
There is a huge cistern within the inner walls, very similar to but a bit smaller than the one in Istanbul from the Ottoman era. Two ceiling chimneys allow the entry of rain water apparently. It is cool inside, quiet and serene. I sit on the elevated platform that creates a long bench on one side of the cistern. I meditate for 15-20 minutes. Again, I indulge in loving kindness meditation. I accept and embrace my frustrations with some of my experiences in Uganda. I move away from being judgmental against myself for not being able to embrace everything I experienced there.
Every time I think, I have reached the highest point, there seems to be more elevation to be gained
I then move onto contemplating somebody I love dearly in loving kindness. That is most of the time my daughter. She has worked very hard in her medical school tenure and has applied to Psychiatry residencies. She is awaiting to match in the spring. I send her all my love and wishes for her to reach her goals and serve homeless people by bringing mental health services to them in their communities. One would wonder why we waited for so long to reach out to populations that are least likely to seek health care in our well adorned facilities... I trust, she will join the handful of practitioners, who are pioneering this work in the US.
This is it, there is nothing but the sky from this point on in the fortress
Then I contemplate somebody, who is neutral for me, like the guy at the entrance, who greeted me in Turkish! It was a sweet touch, which makes it easy for me to cultivate loving kindness thoughts for him. The most difficult is to contemplate loving kindness for those that make our lives difficult, for whom we feel disdain, aversion, anger, even animosity. I haven't managed to cultivate loving kindness for Mr. Trump for instance, yet! The recommendation for being able to think of such difficult people in loving kindness context is to imagine them when they were a child, innocent, pure, not corrupted, yet, with scars of trauma... It really works. And, loving kindness meditation is the best of meditation techniques, never have I left a loving kindness meditation without feeling good inside and out feeling the positive energy exuding from my skin...
The cistern in the fortress, must have been renovated in the 1800s since the castle was already in ruins by that time
Time to go to the gift shop. There are well preserved storage spaces on display close to the gift shop. I buy a book on Portuguese poets and their poetry. Just as I am ready to leave, a necklace catches my eye that has the same design as the ear rings my dear Portuguese friend Teresa had given me years earlier. I had been looking for something like this to match my ear rings with no avail all these years. Here it is before my eyes... I can’t pass this opportunity; I learn later on that the style is called “The heart of Vienna” and is very typical jewelry in Portugal. My lonely earrings now have a matching pendant I can wear together especially when I come to Portugal. Teresa will notice and appreciate it lovingly right away the next day when I meet her at the conference. That loving expression on her face is worth anything...
Just before I enter the actual fortress, that was built in 8th and 9th centuries, I come across a glass dome that allows the display of well preserved skeletons: This is the burial site of the castle. I learn from the internet that Sintra among other territories was left to Christian rule to establish an alliance with the ruling King's army to provide the settlers security. However that becomes the first step in Muslim Iberia losing its power to Christianity. Moors eventually lose control of the castle. However, the King allows the settlers stay in the castle as long as they work with the King and his army to provide security to the area. Collaborate with me, I will let you live...
There is a chapel at the entrance to the outer ring of walls. I learn from the internet that this chapel in fact served all three religions that were practiced in the region, first Muslims, then Christians, and finally Jews that probably were fleeing the inquisition of Iberia at its peak. Once I enter the actual fortress things change dramatically. The well preserved/renovated walls of the castle overlooking the plains below are impressive, emanating power and control, security, but also isolation, loneliness, a sense of being cramped. I wonder if the settlers of its time felt any of that. After all, their limits were the sky above them and the expanse of land and sea as far as eye could see, as long as they didn't wish to go smell and touch and intermingle with any of those.
The expanse of the fortress, the plains, and the ocean
I am impressed with how diverse the international visitors are although, the castle doesn’t seem to be extremely crowded. All kinds of languages are abound, some I can easily recognize, some not at all. I even bump into a Turkish couple, which I recognize from the intonation of the language they speak from a distance that doesn’t allow me discern the words. They are as surprised as I am, the man works in Morocco, and the woman is his wife. They are on vacation, I see them later in town as well. On both occasions, I catch them in a disconcerting interaction, when they didn’t know me witnessing their interaction:
On both occasions she was demanding her husband act a certain way or do something she asked him to. He was in a passive aggressive mood. All that was left to her was scolding her husband with a “You’ll see what will happen” attitude and expression on her face. I am put off with this abrasiveness and feel sorry for both of them, curious about what makes them settle down to a who knows how long of a relationship. This is so common way of an interaction between couples in Turkish culture. I have always wondered why they can’t express their innermost desires and discontent more openly and lovingly, I know understand that the answer lies in how courageously we may accept our vulnerability and embrace it in our close relationships.
Pena Place from the Moorish Castle
There is a huge cistern within the inner walls, very similar to but a bit smaller than the one in Istanbul from the Ottoman era. Two ceiling chimneys allow the entry of rain water apparently. It is cool inside, quiet and serene. I sit on the elevated platform that creates a long bench on one side of the cistern. I meditate for 15-20 minutes. Again, I indulge in loving kindness meditation. I accept and embrace my frustrations with some of my experiences in Uganda. I move away from being judgmental against myself for not being able to embrace everything I experienced there.
I then move onto contemplating somebody I love dearly in loving kindness. That is most of the time my daughter. She has worked very hard in her medical school tenure and has applied to Psychiatry residencies. She is awaiting to match in the spring. I send her all my love and wishes for her to reach her goals and serve homeless people by bringing mental health services to them in their communities. One would wonder why we waited for so long to reach out to populations that are least likely to seek health care in our well adorned facilities... I trust, she will join the handful of practitioners, who are pioneering this work in the US.
Then I contemplate somebody, who is neutral for me, like the guy at the entrance, who greeted me in Turkish! It was a sweet touch, which makes it easy for me to cultivate loving kindness thoughts for him. The most difficult is to contemplate loving kindness for those that make our lives difficult, for whom we feel disdain, aversion, anger, even animosity. I haven't managed to cultivate loving kindness for Mr. Trump for instance, yet! The recommendation for being able to think of such difficult people in loving kindness context is to imagine them when they were a child, innocent, pure, not corrupted, yet, with scars of trauma... It really works. And, loving kindness meditation is the best of meditation techniques, never have I left a loving kindness meditation without feeling good inside and out feeling the positive energy exuding from my skin...
Time to go to the gift shop. There are well preserved storage spaces on display close to the gift shop. I buy a book on Portuguese poets and their poetry. Just as I am ready to leave, a necklace catches my eye that has the same design as the ear rings my dear Portuguese friend Teresa had given me years earlier. I had been looking for something like this to match my ear rings with no avail all these years. Here it is before my eyes... I can’t pass this opportunity; I learn later on that the style is called “The heart of Vienna” and is very typical jewelry in Portugal. My lonely earrings now have a matching pendant I can wear together especially when I come to Portugal. Teresa will notice and appreciate it lovingly right away the next day when I meet her at the conference. That loving expression on her face is worth anything...
As I start heading out, I can now enjoy more of the architecture on the way down. The two very old churches, Sao Martinho and its "twin" Sao Miguel that are a block away from one another on the way to or down from the castle are both from 11-12th century AD. They were in fact a collaborative congregation. However, they are not used for either masses, nor are they open to visitation, a pity. I just peek through the fences and appreciate the once Romanesque later replaced with Gothic style. I recall, how lovely it was to visit the Old Church in Amsterdam from the same era, which was renovated beautifully and open to visitation. It was also used for all kinds of cultural activities, where I had seen a photography exhibition of the history of Judaism in Netherlands and another on the history of gypsies. Memories are the most precious treasure we may preserve...
Time to head down to Sintra itself. I would like to visit the town itself, engage in people watching, pause for brief periods of time to drink something and take it all in. On the way down, I take pictures of beautiful old homes with dilapidated facades, doors with intriguing knobs, door handles: One has used the head of an ancient Roman figure. Beautiful gothic style window frames, the top portions of which are ornamented with shimmering "gold" metal work. Worn out two-panel wooden doors separating and protecting walled in homes from the outside world. Tiles used everywhere: Trimming on street walls, enveloping public fountains, providing the support for benches on the road side, sings for any and every purpose... For some reason, the use of tiles in this type of urban setting gives me a sense of cleanliness, is it because it is much easier to clean tile than any other material... As I approach Sintra, I feel as if I have gone on a time travel. When I think about it, I indeed did. For several hours now I lived with Moors, breathed in the air they once breathed in day in day out, saw what they saw up above and extending all the way to horizon. Time to get back to real time...
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| Public Fountain in Sintra on the way to Moorish Castle |
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