Tag Archives: Street Art

Days 16 & 17 – To Águeda then Albergaria-a-Velha

2 Replies

Sunday 13 September 2026 – As hinted in the last entry, today, being not a walking day (28km in temperatures of 35°C? What could possibly go wrong?) involved a late breakfast and then whistling up another Uber. The breakfast at Vinyl M was delivered on a tray but was remarkably good – yoghurt, bread rolls, cheese, ham, croissants and a creditable flat white coffee. Our Uber arrived a few minutes late, but delivered us swiftly to our next accommodation, the Hotel Conde d’Águeda, where the lovely Beatrice on reception not only had a room ready for us but also spent a decent amount of time talking about the various sights we could see around the town. Brierley hardly gives Águeda an entire sentence, but we were actually really looking forward to walking round to see the various bits of street art that Jane’s researches had told us were to be found. We had a cup of tea, first, of course, which enabled us to plan our next moves in the light (and heat) of the heat wave which was due to last a couple of days more. The A/B decision was: (A) walk around in 35-degree heat to see the artworks we knew about now, then get an early night to start walking at 0600 the next day; or (B) sod that for a game of soldiers, rest up for the day, see the artworks in cool of the next morning and get another Uber. Jane’s plan was A; mine, unsurprisingly, was B. Reader, I won the day! We decided that seeing the art in comfort was better than walking the 16km to Albergaria. That said, we went for a walk anyway. Obviously.

Our hotel was handily placed to walk to much of what was worth seeing, so we waited a bit to allow the day to cool a bit and then set out. It wasn’t difficult to see where we could start – there are colourful artworks all over the place,

but one of the main things to marvel at was the Umbrella Sky Project.

Águeda’s roots go back to Celtic/Lusitanian settlement, with the area occupied since at least the 4th century BC. It shows up in documents from 1050–1077 under names like Casal Lousado, Anegia, Agatha and Ágada, and by the 9th century was known as Ágata. Through the Middle Ages it belonged to the monasteries of Lorvão and Vacariça rather than having its own royal charter, and functioned as a stop on the road to Santiago de Compostela. It became a municipal seat in 1834 after Portugal’s Liberal Revolution, and was only granted city status in 1985. Historically it made its name in metalworking, bicycles, and ceramics – hence it has the nickname “Portuguese Bicycle Capital”.

The transformation to being a “street art town” is very recent and very deliberate. The Umbrella Sky Project was born in Águeda in 2012, created by the design firm Impactplan working with the local council on what started as a small installation on one narrow street. It was inspired by the image of Mary Poppins floating down with her umbrella, and it was part of the AgitÁgueda festival, which used it to add colour and shade during the hot summer months. Photos went viral, and, as we were to see for ourselves, the town leaned into it hard;  it’s now spawned licensed versions in cities from Lisbon to Pensacola, Florida. That festival became the, erm, umbrella for a much wider street-art push, including a strand called Rexenera aimed at getting big murals and sculptures into public squares.

So, worth spending extra time to appreciate, then.

There are colourful embellishments everywhere you look around the town centre,

and the Umbrella Sky presence covers several streets.

The Umbrella idea has been mercilessly exploited, time and time again

and the “Sky” aspect has also mutated in places, as we discovered when we walked further afield the following morning (see later).

As we walked around, the Disneyland-esque feel of the place almost made me feel as if we’d been transported to somewhere in the USA. It’s quite the riot of colour (which, sadly, somewhat disguises the areas of neglect which are quite common in Portugal). It gives an agreeable air to walking around and, say, stopping for a beer and pizza. So we did. I think we must have got our timing a bit wrong; as we took seats outside the Sant’Oregano pizzeria we were almost the only customers and it took an unconscionable amount of time to produce our pizzas – over 40 minutes. By the time we’d finished them, the pizza place – and the street it was on – was quite lively, with a Saturday night buzz, so I think we might have been a bit early. The pizzas were good and the beer was welcome, but the quantities were excessive. So, after we’d eaten, we decided we should go for a walk. Obviously. We headed down to the river and walked along it to see a work by a particular artist, and it was lovely to see it; but the light wasn’t at its best, so we resolved to include it in our walkabout the next morning.

When we got back to the hotel we noticed that the ground floor bar was labelled an “honesty bar”; and I’d thought I’d seen some gin on the counter when we’d checked in. I had not been wrong;

there was indeed an excellent selection of gins, but we couldn’t find the necessary ice and tonic to make any of them into a decent drink. We asked at reception and the nice lass there went off and came back with ice and tonic, so the situation was saved. She also offered to put the charge for the drinks on our room bill, which was fine – but it means that the description of “honesty bar” is not very accurate. No matter – it was lovely to have a decent G&T.

So: that was yesterday. Today, we walked further afield in the relative cool of the morning. Breakfast was taken on the top floor of the hotel, whence we got a nice view of the misty morning

and one of the Umbrella Sky streets.

Before we went out, Jane also took this shot of a mural that we could see from our bedroom.

We walked nearly 4km to search out the things we knew about, and there were three particular works that we wanted to see. More of them later, but there was much else to spot. Of course, we wanted to find the various Sky projects, and there were several non-umbrella ones to be seen.

This one has the theme of fishes and the sea,

another is a “garden” in the sky,

and there is a sunflower street, too.

There is artwork all around: some big pieces

some medium-sized ones;

and some small touches.

The cogwheel is essentially Águeda’s symbol of industry. Águeda developed a strong industrial base, particularly in metalworking, machinery, bicycles and related manufacturing, and the town’s heraldry reflects that. The cogwheel appears prominently in the municipal coat of arms, alongside grapes, pine trees and wavy blue lines, which represent the River Águeda.

CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=303386

There are embellishments on and around several buildings, such as the town hall and the arts centre.

There are some more traditional artistic touches around;

the azulejo panel illustrates the historical lifestyle of the nearby Aveiro district coastline, showcasing the iconic bateiras (traditional flat-bottomed boats) and the marshy lagoon landscape. The Águeda municipality, particularly the Fábrica de Faianças do Outeiro de Águeda and master painters like João Breda, has a deeply rooted history in producing monumental, hand-painted blue and white tile panels that celebrate regional Portuguese landmarks and traditions. (I’ve taken the em dashes out of the above so that you won’t know I got it from AI.)

Given the town’s history, it unsurprising to see bicycles represented around, such as these verges on the garden sky street.

There was a substantial bric-a-brac market going on (this being a Sunday) in and among the artworks.

However, the things that really interested us were works by Bordallo II – he of the “art from trash” installations. Águeda boasts no fewer than three: a robin, down by the river;

a salamander, by the town hall;

and, slightly further afield, a kitten.

(You can infer from the solar panels above the kitten that this is lit at night.)

Walking around to see all of these things was an agreeable way of spending the morning. Just before midday, we checked out of the hotel and were Uber-whisked by Jose (listening to religious anthems all the way – well, it is Sunday) to our accommodation in Albergaria-a-Velha. jane spotted a grain store on the way. In Spain, these are called horreos, but in Portugal their name is espigueiros, and they are, I read, found principally in the north-west of the country. This being the direction we’re headed, I would expect us to see more of these as we walk further north – because walk is what we firmly intend to do whenever the weather renders it other than a stupid idea.

Jose dropped us off in a hot, sunny street in Albergaria, and we walked along it to find our accommodation, Estalagem dos Padres – Inn of the Priests.

It was, of course, locked and deserted. Fortunately, sitting on the street opposite the entrance was an Australian lass, Georgina, who was in contact with the owners, and, long story short, we got in to what is evidently a remotely-operated establishment. Our keys were in a drawer, our breakfast will be delivered to a drawer in the well-equipped kitchen and there was a kettle, with milk in the fridge. We were able, then, to have a cup of tea and a chat with Georgina in the lounge area,

and work out what to do with the rest of the day.

Georgina has been hard core and walked all the way from Lisbon; well done to her! She has chatted with a few people along the way and helped a couple, including, she told us, an 86-year old lady from America, who’d been having difficulty finding the way (not surprising, given the lack of signage in Lisbon). I was working on this blog in the lounge area when who should turn up but the American lady, Louise from Pennsylvania. We chatted a bit before she went off to her room, and then it was time for Jane and me to go out and find somewhere to eat.

It’s just this town, you know? Some pleasant buildings, some abandoned houses; in many ways just typical Portuguese town.

although there were a couple of things to note as we walked in search of a meal. The square has a fountain

which is rather neatly matched by an azulejo opposite.

There’s a torre,

which is actually a part of the Boa Vista Castle and Mansion. I’d love to tell you more, but it was closed. Werl, Sunday, innit?

Having said it was just typical, Albergaria is obviously a place of great pith and moment, since it has a couple of bars that are actually open on a Sunday, and, mirabile dictu, a restaurant, Memórias, that was open all day.

We had a good, copious, meal there and tottered back to the Estalagem for the rest of the day. On the way back, we noted the rather unusual pointy bits on the building labelled “Primary School”.

Like so many buildings in this country, it was clearly very fine once, but appears now, sadly, to be disused. The finials are called picos or pináculos in Portuguese, and these days are just a matter of decoration, but once held some significance: because the roof is of such critical importance in a building, the more ornate it was, the longer it would take workmen to lay it, and thus the richer was the family whose roof they decorated. There’s possibly an element of warding off evil spirits (presumably giving them a pointed look), which may have applied to the school. We’ll never know.

Tomorrow, our target is Oliveira de Azeméis, which is about 20km away (and at the top of a hill; sigh), so if we get on with it and don’t hang about we should be able to walk there and arrive before the worst of the day’s heat. An early start beckons!

 

 

Day 8 Part 1 – Leaving Vila Nova da Barquinha

3 Replies

Friday 4 September 2026 – Another day, another Uber. The forecast was unchanged – a very warm (30°C, cloudy and humid) day was in prospect. With a 23km walk, meaning at least 6 hours and probably seven on the road, and an elevation profile like this

helped us decide on taking a ride to our next destination, Tomar. Not therefore having to get out at sparrowfart allowed us to take time to look round Vila Nova da Barquinha in more detail, seeking out the bits of street art which were within walking distance and revisiting the sculpture trail in the park that we’d pottered around yesterday evening, to see things in decent light.

Barquinha (for such I’ll call it in the interests of brevity) is typical of our experience of Portugal so far – touches of great elegance against a backdrop of neglect. So, for example, some wonderful azulejos

but a badly-maintained backdrop.

One thing that looked in good nick was the bullring.

We saw from a poster by the railway station that a corrida was happening in a week’s time; whether this clean and tidy appearance was due to the imminent event or whether civic pride generally kept it looking nice we will never know. However, I happened to notice that one of the doors, the second one, labelled “Camarotes”

was open. So we looked in. It would appear that “Camarotes” means “Boxes” in the sense of privileged viewing places.

and we got a good view of the arena, which was being worked on, presumably, again, for the forthcoming festivities.

I had formed the impression (see the featured image for why) that the “Vila Nova” (“new town”) part of Barquinha’s name meant that it was only about a century old. Wrongly, as it turns out. It has a significant history stretching back centuries. Actually, the development of the region is strongly related to the Reconquista period, when the nearby river Tagus was the border between the dominions of Christians and Moors. In the 12th century, the defence of this border was in charge of the Knights Templar, who built several castles along the river. One of these is the Castle of Almourol, (which we didn’t get round to visiting for various reasons). At the end of the 13th century, when the Reconquista was finished, the importance of the castles of the region declined and the villages along the Tagus then became important riverside ports for the transport of agricultural goods of the region to Lisbon. There’s an azulejo in the riverside park about this.

Vila Nova da Barquinha was created in the 17th century around a fluvial port. In the 18th and 19th centuries the village became the most important in the region, and it was turned into the seat of the municipality in 1836. The history of the place explains the touches of elegance we saw as we walked around.

And it was quite a walk to the first street art installation,

tiling placed round what we think is (or was once) an electricity substation. The tiling was done by Manel Vieira in 2018, and it doesn’t look as if the building has had much TLC ever since, which is a shame. We pressed on, going back past the bullring and a tiled installation

which is apparently about 500 years of the Reformation in Europe. A tiling panel next to it dated it as 2017, but I couldn’t decipher the artist’s name.

We walked some way out of the centre of Barquinha and passed a mural that I’d actually noted on our ride into the town;

another piece that would have been impressive at the time but which looks very sad now. The same was true of the next instance we came to;

a further example of an attempt to prettify infrastructure which has been allowed to decay. The final piece on this part of the walkabout was an impressive work, once again using infrastructure as the canvas.

In it, the artist (whose name was not specified in the accompanying panel) expresses his concern about pollution in the Tagus River. (There was one more example of prettified infrastructure, which I’ll come to later.)

As we walked about, we noted that the mosaic pavements were decorated in a very specific pattern,

which Jane correctly identified as a small boat, which is, of course, how “Barquinha” translates into English. This was confirmed at the municipality offices.

The mosaic pavements stretched across much of our walk. We came across a couple of guys working on the maintenance of a section,

which makes one realise what a huge scope of work all of these pavements are.

Not everywhere is tatty. The sports pavilion is tidy and announces itself with great panache.

and many of the houses and apartments are in good shape.

We were struck by all the white space around

that was completely devoid of graffiti. Until we got to the station, that is.

I wonder whether there’s a specific anti-graffiti task force which keeps (almost) everything clean; it certainly makes a change from everywhere else we’ve been, where graffiti is depressingly ubiquitous.

On returning from the above peregrination, we walked around the park, where there is that other example I mentioned earlier, of an electricity substation that has been gussied up.

and we walked past the various sculptures beside the paths in the park.

“Rotter” – a representation of a wicker basket used in fishing in the Algarve
“House in the Sky” – industrial storage boxes used to build a prefab
“Line of Earth and River” – in polished and brushed stainless steel
Untitled – actually four tall steel mirrors, turning the garden into a stage
“Contramundo” – artistic tosh in the description of this trilobite
“Square house with tree inside”. Nuff said
“Castle” was once in yellow granite
“Concrete Poem”
“Irrigation”
“Over the forest” inspired by a mandala

As well as all the above slightly pretentious stuff, there were a couple of rotating disks, one of which gave a very compelling illusion.

 

The park was opened in 2005 and the sculpture trail inaugurated in 2012. The building decorations seem to date from around 2017 or 2018, so it’s clear that sporadic efforts have been made to bring art into the public spaces. It’s just a shame that, having done this good work, so much of it has been left to decay.

The café in the park got some more of our business after all that walking, and then we whistled up an Uber to take us on to Tomar, where we have a rest day. (Well, I suppose you could call today and the preceding couple of days “rest days” since we didn’t actually walk any of the Caminho. But we have walked a bit – today’s wandering round Barquinha was a 7km path, so we haven’t been entirely idle.) Tomar has significant historical and cultural significance and so I’ll deal with it in subsequent entries.

 

The last of Lisbon…for now

6 Replies

Tuesday 25 August 2026 – We weren’t due to meet Carlos until midday, so we had a relaxed schedule for the morning. On checkout, we discovered that the hotel’s “finance people”, despite having agreed that the prepayment for our room had, in fact, been made, had still not sent their approval for the reception staff to process a refund for us, so I’m still £400 down on the deal so far. But I’m sanguine that things will get sorted before the credit card bill becomes payable. Yes, really.

Carlos’s wife had enforced a change of plan by requiring use of their car for the day, so we weren’t going to get our lift over to Sintra, not that it mattered. It takes pretty much the same time to get there by car or by train, and Carlos had developed a plan that took us round some parts of the city we hadn’t yet explored, ending up at the station where we needed to catch the train. Street art was very much still a theme in what we saw, but in the posher parts of town. We headed up Rua Augusta but veered off to the left, into the Chiado area of the city, where a lot of the buildings were very ritzy

and smartly decorated, both outside

and in

This was a pie shop. Well, a rather nice pastelaria, which featured top notch pastel de natas and perfectly decent coffee, so we partook whilst Carlos expanded somewhat on the fire of Chiado, a tragedy which happened exactly 38 years ago – August 25 1988. The fire started at a department store in Rua do Carmo and quickly spread, affecting a total of 18 buildings, of which 11 were full losses with structure collapse. The wooden furnishings in the buildings, and the contents, which included fabrics and gas bottles, contributed to the swift spread of the fire. In 1989 the Portuguese architect Álvaro Siza Vieira was invited by the mayor of Lisbon to oversee the reconstruction project for the area, which was mostly completed by 1999. The exterior look of the buildings was restored, while the interiors needed, of course, to be completely rebuilt according to modern construction techniques and safety regulations. Some original frontages were saved,

and interiors are in some cases still being restored to their former finery;

overall the area still has a grand feel to it.

One particularly striking building is the Casa do Ferreira dos Tabuletas.

It was originally built in 1865 on part of the land once occupied by the 13th-century monastery of Convento da Trindade, by Manuel Moreira Garcia, a wealthy Gilician businessman and Freemason, after religious orders were dissolved in Portugal and the Convent building fell into disuse. The façade is famous for its 19th-century azulejo (ceramic tile) panels created by painter and azulejo artist Luis Ferreira (known as “O Ferreira das Tabuletas“- Ferreira of the panels), featuring allegorical figures representing Earth, Water, Science, and Industry, as well as mythological themes and ornate floral borders. Originally designed for mixed residential and commercial use, it remains one of the most celebrated examples of tile architecture in Lisbon.

Garcia converted another part of the Convent into a cervejaria (pub) which also has a very flamboyant display of azulejas.

Nearby is the Teatro da Trindade – whose name is again a reference to the Convento da Trindade.

A little further along the way was the church of São Roque, which was handsome enough without being distinctive on the outside but ridiculously opulent inside.

There are areas of very lavish tiling,

and the ceiling is remarkable.

What really stands out, though, is the opulence of the nine chapels surrounding the nave. One of them, the Chapel of St. John the Baptist, was mandated by King John V, who ruled as an absolute monarch, riding roughshod over normal political protocols, styled himself after Louis XIV and spent vast amounts of money on architectural projects and specifically this chapel,

which included 20% of the entire gold holdings of the country. He wanted the Pope to come and bless the chapel, but that was never going to happen, so he had it built in Rome, blessed there by the Pope, and then disassembled and reassembled here in Lisbon. No wonder he was unpopular.

Carlos then led us around the streets of Chiado and neighbouring Barrio Alto, showing us some of the street artwork to be found there, some larger scale

and some smaller.

Lisbon has a powerful reputation for its “tagging” (graffiti, to you and me) as well as its artworks, and there’s one slightly amusing point where a brand new building was erected with a sign forbidding graffiti

and right next door to it is the entrance to a theatre – who were happy to allow the artists full rein!

Chiado features a famous café, A Brasileira, one of the three oldest cafés in Lisbon.

Outside it there’s a statue of Fernando Pessoa, a well-known poet who was also a philosopher, playwright, essayist, translator, advertising executive, astrologer, inventor, businessman, commercial correspondent, literary critic, and political commentator – though poetry remained his first love. He was a frequent visitor to A Brasileira under his many heteronyms: Ricardo Reis, Álvaro de Campos, and Alberto Caeiro. The mosaic in the pavement is supposed to represent his long face, and the establishment, like many in this posh area, has its name in the pavement outside.

Inside, it reminds me very much of the Julien Restaurant in Paris – very belle epoque.

Another belle epoque frontage can be found down the street from A Brasileira.

It’s a gelateria now, but has retained the frontage that proclaimed its original purpose – ladies fashion. The whole area was crowded and buzzing, despite it being a Monday; you could tell how busy it was from the number of the taxi-cum-tour buggies parked up awaiting customers.

There are extraordinary numbers of these vehicles roaming the streets of Lisbon, most of them in golf buggy style, some built as replicas of old automobiles, some more like tuktuks. They have all cropped up in the last fifteen years or so, and have become so ubiquitous that the authorities stepped in to regulate them; they are all now electric and restricted to certain parking zones. There must be huge competition between them for business and some owners clearly try to mark theirs out from the norm.

We saw a few more artworks before we finished our time in Lisbon with Carlos.

One was particularly striking, being somewhat three-dimensional.

Even the station is a work of art,

and the artwork didn’t stop at the façade. Even the stairs were decorated

as were the walls by the platforms.

Mind you, the place has its prosaic moments, too.

And so we bade a (temporary) farewell to Lisbon and headed to Sintra on the train. We will be back, and may be able to fit in some more tourism, depending on schedules and weather. But I’ll end this post here and the next one will take up the thread as we arrived in Sintra for our short stay there.