The Come Down

On the road from Marvao to Evora, as we came down the mountain, we found ourselves coming down from a high.

Dave soon realized he had left his iPod somewhere in his unmade bed, the rain moved in, and, somehow, despite multiple commendations as a “jewel” and a “gem” and a “queen”, Evora seemed to lack a bit of the previous day’s magic.  An walled Medieval town with circuitous streets and narrow alleys?  Absolutely.  A perfect preserved, evocative dream?  Maybe it was that it was Sunday and everything was closed.  Maybe it was the mist that blew in under our umbrellas and cleared the streets.  There was a nice cathedral that let us run around on their roof as if lawsuits weren’t a thing.

There was a Roman temple tumbled down in the main square.

There was an entire chapel in a church made of human bones.

There was a lovely pastry shop full of girls with braces that laughed at Jon’s bad Portuguese.

Yet, somehow, we remained ever so slightly down in the dumps. Rather than sit in our rooms and read or comb the town in the rain looking for a restaurant that was open on a Sunday night, we holed up on the couches of a very fancy hotel bar that we couldn’t afford to stay in and had them bring us food and drinks and ice cream until everything was beautiful again.

Here’s that Roman temple in the rain to prove it.

Tomorrow: Lisbon.

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