From Evora we drive northwest to the small town of Arraiolos, a tiny town with the ruins of a castle scattered at its highest point. The town is known for its traditional tapestries/carpets, which are basically woven cloth embroidered with wool. The tiny town is bright white and yellow, like many towns in the Alentejo province, and by mid-morning the sun’s heat is already on full force. The town is a moving theater of elderly men, all purposefully, if indolently, walking about the central crossings and square of the town, most with canes or at least a noticeable shuffle, and topped with a cap. They populate the various cafes, whiling away hours over a coffee, trading stories with their colleagues and neighbors. Andres made his by-now traditional stop at a local barbershop(there’s at least one such stop each trip!) and while he took care of hair, I meandered through the immediate vicinity. One lovely discovery was the Arraiolos Interpretative Center, which is a small museum explaining the history of carpet-making, from, shall we say, sheep fleece to embroidered final product, along with the history of the ups and downs of the industry, which remains mostly as a cottage industry today. The smallish church features walls of fine tile work, each panel dedicated to some “Christian duty” like, feed the hungry, console the sad, and the like. Lovely.
Check out c.i.tapete@cm-arraiolos.pt for more on the museum.
From this little gem on to Evoramonte, the seat of the Braganca(that’s a c cedilla in there…) family, and the bow that represented their family and symbolized fidelity. The new town lies on the plains, and above looms the castle, reached via a narrow winding road which finally squeaks through a castle wall gateway and dead ends at the small chapel and (new) cemetery. It’s one street banked with whitewashed homes, a shop and a small restaurant, all topped with bulky chimneys that appear far too weighty for the structures that support them. The castle, truth be told, is rather an eyesore, but the views over the rolling landscape of olive orchards and distant hilltop towns is breathtaking, and thereby compensates.
Another half hour later we found ourselves on one of the central squares in quiet Estremoz, largest of the trio of “marble towns”, along with tiny Borba and historical Vila Vicosa. Found a great place to stay on the Gadanha square and then went to hunt down a salad for lunch, no mean feat in the meat-based kitchens everywhere we’ve been. Usually salad is not even on the menu, but a bit of prodding, after suffering the waiter’s initial shock(?) that we only want salad for lunch, usually get us what we want. We walk around the vast main square, which, strangely seems to be mostly a parking lot, check in with the singularly unhelpful tourist office, and a couple of old buildings while already casing the area for dinner possibilities. A last stop at the huge church back on the Gadanha, and we head indoors for the worst of the afternoon heat. Later, we stop at Pastelaria Formosa for something to drink and our first pastel de nata(custard tart). Then up some hilly alleys until we reach the formidable palace complex, built in the 1200’s by Dom Dinis for his new wife, Isabel of Aragon. The imposing tower, and in fact most of what is presently there was rebuilt in the 1700’s. Today it houses another historical pousada, replete with luxurious furniture and obligatory piano bar, although we saw nary a guest. The sweeping views over the countryside speckled with olive groves from the square just outside the pousada are bucolic. The old jail now houses a bar/restaurant, also empty, as we walked by. Back in the lower town we found ourselves delicious grilled fish for dinner, and readied ourselves for the market that is the weekly event on Saturday morning.
The Rossio square is bustling on Sat. morning with more people than we’ve seen just about anywhere so far. There are antique dealers who sell everything from old Coke bottles, ancient radio sets, paintings, jewelry, and flea market fare. There are a few local pottery vendors, and then there is a section of fowl vendors(ducks, chickens, roosters, turkey, geese, each with young), and further along stands of fruits, vegetables, cheeses and local sausages and hams. The big attraction for us is the multitude of people, most of whom are socializing and catching up, and yes, old. Old men, in particular appear everywhere, standing, sitting, in the cafes, and chewing each other’s ears off with stories galore.
After perusing and people-watching at the market, we head to the nearby towns of Borba and Vila Vicosa. The former is much smaller and clearly less wealthy. We park ourselves at a busy café and take in the morning rituals of the locals, who are mostly sitting in groups idling away the morning until lunchtime. A handful of shops are open, but our brief stroll through the tiny center shows little activity, and less to see other than the tell-tale slabs of marble around many doors and windows. Even the pedestrian crossings are not painted, but instead filled in with lighter marble!
A hop and skip down the main road we enter stately Vila Vicosa, which boasts a huge marble fronted palace, a gorgeous orange-tree lined main square, and a castle with a panoramic view of the region and its marble quarries, as well as a 17c. church dedicated to Portugal’s patron saint, Nossa Sra. da Conceicao(Our Lady of Conception), with the by-now expected, attractive tile work. The prior royal convent now houses yet another historical pousada, although this one is not nearly as posh as previous ones we’ve visited. Our wanderings take us well into the hot midafternoon, but we take one last side trip to the famous dry ditch fortifications of medieval Elvas, only 15 km from the Spanish border. Then back to home base in Estremoz.
