a promise kept

The Monastery of Batalha is one of the most marvellous examples of Gothic architecture I have ever seen— it seemed as though each footstep I took revealed something even more beautiful. Gargoyles, saints, and lacy stonework decorated the exterior, blackened in interesting patterns by time.

The monastery was built in 1385 by King D. João I, who promised to build a great monument to the Virgin Mary if he was granted victory over the Castillians in the Battle of Aljubarrota. Clearly he was, and the results are nothing short of a masterpiece. Embellishments were added over the next two centuries, mostly in the Manueline style, which is known for its nautical motifs.



With its towering stained glass windows, much of the interior is filled with a soft, multi-coloured light.



In addition to housing the tombs of King D. João I and his English wife Queen Philippa of Lancaster, the monastery is also the final resting place of their famed son, Prince Henry the Navigator. I remember reading about Prince Henry and the Age of Discovery with great interest in school, and here is is, the man who never joined an expedition himself, but profoundly changed the world with his sponsorship of exploration:

nazaré

The older ladies of Nazaré can still be spotted wearing their traditional knee-length circle skirts with colourful aprons, wooly knitted socks, shawls, and patterned headscarves.

bitoque

It was in the seaside town of Nazaré that I enjoyed my first bitoque, a hammered steak (pork, in this case) topped with a fried egg and served with rice and chips. Oh yes, and an insignificant little salad. I normally opt for the sumptuous bifana when stopping for a quick bite, but this day, this was the day of the bitoque.



All that creamy yolk running down the steak, coating the rice...
So simple, and so very good!

orange, grey, and green

While I hide away from winter under my yak wool blankets— and before I fly off to a place so dear to my heart— I'm going to show you a little bit of what December looked like between Lisbon and Porto.



Be prepared for a pork bonanza.

snow and sea

Yesterday, on the limits of Istanbul.

and when you're in edirne...

You get some fried liver. Yes! Even if you loathe liver, Edirne's fried liver will make a liver lover out of you. It happened to me, you know. My personal favourite place to crunch down on the sweet, crispy slivers of goodness is Aydın ciğer salonu— when a place has a line that stretches down the street, you know there's something special about it.

By the way, in all the years I have been here, I don't believe I have ever told you just how good lentil soup is in Turkey. It's positively magical on a chilly day, and if I find a decent recipe, I'll be sure to share it with you!

synagogue

Edirne's beautiful Büyük Synagogue has been under restoration since 2010, after it fell to ruin when much of the city's Jewish community emigrated. Built in 1907, the synagogue was brought into the headlines a few months ago by inflammatory and hateful remarks made by the district's governor, insisting that the synagogue would only open as a museum, in response to Israel's actions involving the Al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem.



Needless to say, his comments resulted in public outcry, and the synagogue will open its doors for worship sometime in the near future. It's a gorgeous building— I can't imagine how lovely it must be inside! I read somewhere that it will be the second largest synagogue in Europe, after the Dohány Street Synagogue in Budapest, which I was lucky to visit some time ago.

remember

"Killed... by bomb... terör... he loved Atatürk." This was the explanation given to me by a gentleman who was handing out small, black-and-white photocopied portraits of the man people had gathered to march for. "We must remember."

A brass band played to a solemn drumbeat, the musicians decked out in brilliant red, the colour of the carnations clutched tightly in the hands of the marchers, the colour of the Turkish flag. Leading the procession was a tiny woman in a leopard print coat, who proudly pulled up her spine when she spied my camera. She gave me a nod and a warm smile, and I snapped away.



I walked along with the group until the statue of Atatürk, where the procession came to a halt. The band played on, and a speech was made. A woman asked me to take a photo of her with her phone. She wanted the statue behind her, and struck a dignified pose.

the pandas of edirne

the barber

Spying on a white-haired barber from the upstairs window of a coffee shop across the street.
A damp, grey afternoon in Edirne.