Back in 1159, the Knights Templar were gifted the fiefdom of the Médio Tejo region of central Portugal. The area had once been the Roman town of Sellium. Some time later, it was a Moorish town but then, under the strong guidance of the first king of Portugal, Afonso Henriques, they were vanquished from the land. The Knights Templar had helped the king and so, grateful, he gifted them the land and they built a huge castle. And we visited it today.
It is a very impressive ruin. It is also, along with the convent next door, a UNESCO World Heritage site.
The castle was actually founded in 1118 and by 1190 completely encircled the town of Tomar. This was good because a whole gang of Moors arrived under the command of caliph Abu Yusuf al-Mansur who laid siege but gave up after a few days because of the 72-year-old commander of the place. He had the help of his knights and also the townsfolk, who were not that keen on changing religion. Again.
The famous rotunda church in the castle was designed to resemble the more famous Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem. Though some say that it may also have been a copy of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem. You can make your own mind up.
The Knights Templar remained in the castle for many years, repelling attacks from the Moors and, generally, being the bully boys of Portuguese justice. Then, in 1319 when the Templar order was dissolved, the unlikely named King Denis of Portugal asked Pope John XXII to turn the place into a convent. It then became the Order of Christ.
During our walk around the castle grounds, a chap was picking oranges in the orchard (he said it was okay because he was from Tomar) and handing them out to anyone who wanted one. Now, when I say oranges, they only looked like oranges. In fact, they tasted like lemons. Pure, unadulterated, sour as all get out, lemons. They were awful. I threw mine away.
Recovering with only slightly pursed lips, we left the castle and had a bit of a rest at the café in the car park before heading around the corner to the entrance to the convent.
A bit of the old castle was converted but, generally, a lot of the place was turned into cloisters. Seriously. I have never seen so many cloisters in a single building. An information board at the beginning said there are eight but, honestly, I think they just keep increasing the further you walk into the complex. I think a visitor slips into a time vortex where cloisters magically multiply the deeper you go.
Here’s a double storey job.
Each cloister has a name. There’s the Washing Cloister, Saint Barbara’s Cloister, the Cloister Cloister, and so on and so forth. You could easily get lost wandering around. I bet that back in the day, newly created acolytes did. In fact, they were probably sent on errands that got them lost for weeks.
But the place is not just about the cloisters. It also has two amazing structures, one outside and one inside. Let’s start with the one inside.
I have never seen anything like it but, apparently, they have them in other places too, just not places I’ve been. It’s called a charola (rotunda) and this one is inside the round church mentioned above.
It is an extraordinary thing. The walls around the centre are painted with many scenes of Christ’s life, as well as a few saints dotted about. Most amazing was this painting of St Sebastien. Check out the cross bow! Very unusual.
The artist, Gregório Lopes, ended up living in Tomar and also painted the altarpiece in the church of St John the Baptist, in the town. We are thinking of returning and, if the church is open, I think I just might snap that too. I do rather like his work.
Obviously, I’m a bit biased when it comes to paintings of saints being killed in spectacular ways. However, the rest of the rotunda was just as extraordinary. Maybe more so.
Imagine a big cylinder inside a round church. Inside the cylinder are paintings and statues. They are currently protected by a magic bit of string but, originally, religious types would have gaily strolled between the pillars, admiring the images before them.
If it’s difficult to imagine, given my appalling description, here’s a photo of the top bit. The bottom bit was full of a Japanese tour group.
The second, equally amazing feature of the convent is the chapter house window, made by Diogo de Arruda in 1510–1513. It is called the Manueline Window because it features many designs frequently found in the Manueline style. This is also sometimes called the more prosaic Portuguese late Gothic.
Whatever you want to call it, it is pretty bloody amazing. Stone ropes and liquorice intertwine around figures and heads, giving an impression of an overly decorated wedding cake. The fact that it is clean makes a huge difference, as it stands out like a beacon at midnight.
Right at the bottom, there’s a chap who looks just like me. Okay, his hair and beard are curlier than mine and his hat is noticeably of a rakish Renaissance style but, otherwise, Mirinda reckons it could be me. Of course, you can’t see it in this photo.
We spent quite a long time (for us) wandering around both the convent and the castle so, by 4 o’clock, we were ready for the big drive back to the house in the countryside and a short rest before heading out for dinner.
We only had a snack at the café outside the Templar’s castle so we were in need of a proper dinner. We decided to return to the Taxo restaurant, mainly because it’s easy to get to as well as having great food. And, turns out, an excellent waitress.
We think she was chosen to serve us because she had the best English and, it turned out was very entertaining. We all three made each other laugh a number of times. For instance, when Mirinda asked her if she got to have dinner at the restaurant she replied, indignantly, that she didn’t work there. This caused a flurry of jokes about her wandering in off the street, grabbing an apron, and then just waiting tables randomly.
“This is not my life!” She said with great emphasis.
It turned out she is studying at university and grabs a Saturday shift at Taxo when she can.
The other thing she did was introduce me to that great Portuguese dessert, farófias. It’s difficult to describe the farófias. But, of course, I shall try.
Imagine, if you can, egg whites shipped into peaks with a bit of sugar then the yolks whipped up as well and made into a sauce. The whites are baked for a bit then the yolk sauce poured over the top. The whole thing goes into the fridge for a few hours then is served sprinkled with cinnamon.
The thing is, it is ridiculously light. So light, in fact, that they give you three of them.
As well as being light, it was also very, very yummy.
See? His hair and beard are curlier than mine.
