Tag Archives: Street Art

Learning more about Lisbon

Sunday 23 August 2026 – We had a date with Carlos, who would be our guide for a walking tour of Lisbon, at 10am, so we didn’t have to leap out of bed with too much alacrity. The hotel has a small restaurant for providing breakfast, and I’d nominated 0830 as the likely time of our arrival. It was a buffet breakfast, with many good things on it, which I largely ignored for a chorizo sandwich. The major disappointment with it was a complete lack of any Earl Grey tea we could snaffle to supplement our supplies, but we thought we might be able to find some in the shops; otherwise it was a decent and ample breakfast.

Since we had time spare before our date with Carlos, I took the opportunity to walk along to Rua Augusta to see if I could capture some of its charm, and particularly the very typical  Lisbon use of mosaics on the pedestrian areas, before it got all full of people again. One thing I remember very clearly from previous visits to Lisbon is the very charming use of black-and-white tiles to make patterns in the pavements.

These are evidence simultaneously of the effort that must have gone into laying them in the first place, and the lack of maintenance in recent times. Rua Augusta, though, notable as it is, is mosaically in a good place.

Since that put me near the Praça do Comércio again, I took the further opportunity to get some photos there, too.

We met Carlos at the hotel and immediately headed back towards the Praça do Comércio, which gave him the chance to explain some of the history behind what we were seeing. Had we arrived in 1756, the scene would have been one of utter devastation, since there had been a major earthquake (estimated at 7.7 magnitude and only some 40km to the south) on November 1, 1755. November 1 is All Saints Day, and many people were at church, leaving candles lit for the occasion – in wooden houses. So buildings fell and fires raged. As well, a tsunami hit, which completely wiped out the square we were standing on and all the buildings around it – 85% of Lisbon’s buildings were destroyed.

The king, Joseph 1, and his prime minister, the Marquis of Pombal, survived the earthquake and set about rebuilding the city. The buildings we see around the square today are this Pombaline legacy – architecturally simple and with an elegance directly influenced by Parisian architecture.  All the ruins behind the square were flattened and the streets rebuilt on a grid pattern. The yellow colour of the buildings denotes their original purpose of being government buildings. Other colours were used for other functions or in other quarters of the city, like this one.

Apparently, Praça do Comércio spent much of the 1990s as a car park!

Carlos then took us generally northwards, past the Elevador de Santa Justa

a wonderful structure designed by a pupil of Gustav Eiffel to address the very hilly nature of Lisbon, now sadly closed ever since a tragic accident with one of the city’s distinctive funiculars, which meant that they, and the elevador, had to be closed for “maintenance”, although it would appear that neglect was a major contributor to the disaster.

We continued northwards to another major square, the Praça Dom Pedro IV.

You can see old Peter the Fourth above the trees there. He was a Good King, having managed to achieve great things (recapturing Lisbon from his hated brother Miguel, establishing the monarchy as constitutional) before dying young. His statue

dominates the square, but Carlos told us a story that the statue might not actually be of Peter, but of Maximilian 1 of Mexico. The story goes that Italian statue makers had created a statue of Max, but he died so they offered it to Lisbon at a bargain price; it was mounted very high so that the people couldn’t see that it wasn’t actually Peter. A close up of the face

does show a visage resembling Max rather than Peter, it must be said.

We continued northwards towards the Jewish and Moorish quarters, in doing so passing remnants of the old walls of the city,

and the ruins of the Carmo Convent,

a 14th-century Carmelite convent which fell into ruin during the 1755 earthquake.

We were heading into the more working class areas of Lisbon, and it showed;

it’s even more dilapidated than the downtown areas. Among the general downbeat air, though, can be found some of the decorative architectural flourishes typical of the city.

as well as hints about its topology.

The decorative tiling seen elsewhere can be seen here, too, particularly on the buildings in the better-off areas;

tiles are an excellent architectural tool, since they don’t fade like paintwork does, and also can be replaced piecemeal should some break or fall.

The Moorish areas are Mouraria and Alfama and are distinguished by, among other things, the narrow and labyrinthine street layout.

This is the area where the distinctively mournful musical style of Fado is widely said to have originated. The street above features street art depicting many of the most influential figures in the early 20th-century development of Fado.

These two, and others, are celebrated in artworks along this street,

and there are other artworks dedicated to the tradition, too.

We started to see increasing amounts of street art in this area.

and Carlos led us up streets and staircases featuring a bewildering varety of art works.

Much of it sprang from a project to address mental health and community spirit.

and some of the work was of immensely high quality,

and some artists had contributed multiple images, like Gnomo (who painted the other chameleon, above).

The area where this street art can be found is called Graça, and the steps we climbed led to its church.

We looked in, but a service was under way, so we didn’t stay long.

Just outside the church is a splendid miradouro (viewpoint), giving a great view of the castle

and an overview of the city.

At the bottom of the picture you can see the one remaining functional funicular, the Graça funicular, which is more modern than the ones that are currently “in maintenance”, albeit run by the same company.

Around this area can be seen some larger-scale street artworks, many of which have the theme of female empowerment (a relatively recent concept in Portugal, it has to be said).

At this point the rain, which had been sporadic up to that point, became really heavy.

so we stopped in at a charming little coffee shop, Condes da Praia,

where we treated ourselves to some traditional Portuguese pastel de nata – delicious custard tarts before calling it a day and catching a cab back to the hotel.

Carlos had done a splendid job of showing us some of the parts of Lisbon we wouldn’t otherwise have seen, and we’re delighted to learn that he will also be our guide in Sintra, where we travel in a couple of days’ time.

We relaxed for a while back at the hotel until housekeeping ushered us out so they could tidy the room. Since by that stage the sun was beginning to shine through, we decided to see if we could get up to the top of the triumphal arch at the base of Rua Augusta so we headed that way. It was clear, from the aroma in the air, that the amount of rain we’d had during the thunderstorm was more than Lisbon’s drains were prepared to deal with.

The entry fee for the arch is €5 per head, and for this you get a lift ride almost all the way up, which is great. There are still 74 steps to complete the journey, but that’s a lot fewer than it might have been. And the view you get from the top is wonderful, even if the aroma from the street was still perceptible.

I had particularly wanted to be able to show the patterns of the mosaics along Rua Augusta, and this was the perfect viewpoint. I was very taken with the reflections of sunlight from the windows in this picture.

We also took the opportunity to look into the church near the hotel which has the fantastic façade we’d seen yesterday, the church of Nossa Senhora da Conceição Velha.

This picture makes it look quite plain, but it isn’t. The altar is quite something,

the ceiling is beautiful

and there are many carved figures around, some with very lifelike features.

They’ve also taken some of the guesswork (and the reliance on donations) out of setting candles.

We finished our wanderings at Pata Negra, a Portuguese Tapas and Steakhouse, which served us a very fine meal (and G&Ts!), before heading back to the hotel.

So, thanks to Carlos we’ve learned a lot about Lisbon that we didn’t know and seen a lot we probably would have missed. The weather prospects tomorrow morning are conducive to taking a late breakfast, but we can wander about a bit more during the afternoon. Who knows what we may stumble across? Check back soon to find out!

 

Dunedin – Handsome and Arty

Saturday 21 March 2026 – What’s in a name? Being an ignorant sassenach, I had simply expected that Dunedin in New Zealand simply took its name from a Scottish city of the same name. Alternatively, since I knew that it had been where mainly Scottish settlers had made their base in 1848, I wondered if they thought, “well, we’ve done Edinburgh, so we could all this place DunEdin for short”. Or perhaps, tired from their travels, they thought “this journey ‘as done my ‘ead in; let’s call this place ‘Done ‘ead in'”. Apart from the fact that there is no Dunedin in Scotland, the reality is much more prosaic: “Dunedin” is basically the Gaelic for “Edinburgh”. And the place has something of the grandeur of Edinburgh about it, with some very handsome buildings, not the least of which was the Distinction Hotel where we were staying, once the head Post Office building from 1937.

(It’s actually a square building; excuse the odd perspective one gets from a wide angle lens, here.)

We had an afternoon’s fun outing booked, which left us with time on our hands for the morning in a new and strange city. So we went for a walk. Obviously. On it, we passed several more handsome buildings.

which definitely give the place the sort of gravitas one feels in Edinburgh. I even thought, when I saw this

that it was an echo of the Scott Monument in Edinburgh. That one is for Sir Walter Scott; perhaps this one is another of the various ones we’ve seen to Robert Falcon Scott? Alas, no.

Worthy of special mention are the Law Courts

and, of course, the Railway Station,

which is fabulous both outside and in, not the least of the inside attractions being the existence of a very decent restaurant and coffee shop.

The station proper has a wonderful interior

with some lovely stained glass and mosaic tiling.

The Cathedral of St. Paul is an imposing edifice

which has a separate bell tower.

The bell is rung on Sundays and for funerals and also for special occasions; charmingly, these include celebrating the return of the first albatross to the Otago colony each year (more of which later). The interior of the cathedral is quite light

and features some lovely stained glass, some of which is very localised;

I leave you to do a “Where’s Wally?” for the  seagulls, cormorants, fur seals, sealions, penguins, herons and other local wildlife which adorn this window – astonishingly, it appears not to feature a kiwi. There was some very stirring organ music to be heard as we walked around, and, as we left, I noticed that this great welling of sound was being driven by a young talent at the keyboard.

There are other churchy-looking buildings, some of which actually are churches, such as the First Church of Otago

and some of which aren’t any more. This one, for example, is now apartments.

It also sits on something that features a lot in Dunedin – steep streets.

The local brewery, Speights, is also set in the hills just outside the city centre

(I recommend Speight’s Gold Medal Ale, by the way.) Maybe the hilly nature of the terrain was what reminded the original Scottish settlers of Edinburgh. More on steep streets by the by, incidentally.

Regular readers of this blog, of whom there are at least two, will know how keen we are to seek out street art, and Dunedin features a lot of very striking murals and other works. If truth be told, we spent our morning searching out the works of art (Jane had a special map), and seeing the other buildings was almost incidental. This is but a sample of what can be seen around the city.

Dunedin is a very decent city to wander around in and we enjoyed our morning’s rambling and seeking out of the artworks. Our day was not, however, done; we had Something To Do in the afternoon, so had to get back to the hotel in time to be picked up for it. Read All About It in the next entry!

 

 

The Third Island

Wednesday 18 March 2026 – We could afford to make fairly stately progress southwards because our only dependency was on a ferry whose time had been rescheduled to 5.15pm, and that was a mere 200km away or so.  The weather outlook was pretty decent,

so the Southern Scenic Route seemed a good idea. We exited Te Anau past the Fjordland Vintage Machinery Museum,

which was intriguing, but not sufficiently so as to divert us. The scenic route was, indeed, scenic, with some lovely cloud pattern in the hills.

Jane had looked out a coffee stop at the Brunel Peaks Cafe,

which didn’t immediately look promising, but turned out to be a delightful choice – excellent coffee and cake, displays of local art and produce and friendly service.

As we wended our way southwards, we noticed an area where tussock grass had taken over – not something we’d seen before.

Tussocks are normally something you’d only see in alpine areas in NZ, because by and large the lowland areas were forests – not a tussock growth area – until people came and then they converted forest to farmland. So it was interesting to see the tussocks making a comeback where (I assume) farmland has been left untouched for a while.

Our next stop was at the Clifden Suspension Bridge. The name sounds suspiciously like the famous bridge in Clifton, Bristol, in the UK, and actually the NZ one even looks a little like Brunel’s creation.

It was built in 1899 to a design by the Southland County Engineer C H Howarth, and at the time had the longest main span (111.5m) in the country. It’s a pedestrian-only bridge these days. Jane noticed that there were some young things Up To Something on the far side of the bridge, accompanied by much shouting and laughter.  In the end, this is what they were doing.

They were wearing safety helmets, and so we supposed that what they were up to was legit; but they were clearly having some fun.

Jane had noticed something else on our route that had piqued her interest:

The Templeton Flax Mill Heritage Museum. All over New Zealand we had heard of the importance of flax to both indigenous and immigrant communities, so we were interested to understand more.

A few words about flax, first.  New Zealand flax (Phormium tenax) is a completely different plant from that which we call flax in the UK (Linum usitatissimum); delicate, blue-flowered UK flax is cultivated for its fine fibres – used to make linen – its seeds and their oil. In the UK, flax seeds are linseeds: I remember from my childhood, for example, the importance of linseed oil for treating cricket bats to stop them cracking or splintering. New Zealand flax has huge spear shaped, architectural, fibrous leaves, of huge importance to the Maori because of its “flaxibility” (ho, ho). The coarse, strong fibres could be made into rope, clothing, baskets, nets, canoe sails, even; the plant has medicinal properties and food value. Flax plants grow everywhere across the country; it’s amazing that something so easily available is of such huge utility. When the European settlers encountered the plant and recognised its utility, and recognised the similarities between the Maori processing of its fibres and the processing of flax back home, they applied the familiar name of “flax” to this foreign plant.

So, we were intrigued. The Templeton Mill Museum is only active on special Open Days or by appointment, so Jane got in touch with the owners to see whether there was any chance we could see it. They said that they weren’t officially open today but that, since the door was unlocked, we were welcome to look inside!

It’s the only authentic flax mill plant operating on its original 1940s site, showcasing 1860s to 1970s flax processing technology. It was in full operation until 1972, amazingly.

Unsurprisingly, there’s a lot of information inside about how the final flax products are made from the leaves (foreground below)

The process involves harvesting, stripping, washing, bleaching, drying and scutching (a process of removing impurities from the fibres) before the fibres are baled into hanks (background above). Outside the mill, various varieties of flax are grown

and there is a drying rack for the fibres on display.

All of these various stops were pleasant diversions on our journey, which led us to Bluff, where we had to catch a ferry to Stewart Island. This ferry is another exclusive by RealNZ, by the way. We had thought that perhaps we could grab a coffee in the ferry terminal building, but the operation was a bit more basic than that; they operate a car park for ferry travellers and there’s a waiting room, but that’s about it. When we checked in, the chap who helped us suggested we went to “the pub across the road” for a coffee whilst we waited.  So we did – sort of. Actually, we’d noticed, on our way in, that Bluff was a very basic sort of town, but it did seem to have a lot of street art. So before we went for coffee, we strolled around for a bit, and found a decent array of murals

and other installations.

There was an artist’s studio/shop called JIMI RABBITZ, with some really bizarre creations,

and (allegedly) the world’s most southerly chippie.

We called into the Eagle Hotel for a coffee

but they didn’t do hot drinks, so we had a cold beer instead. It was a pretty hardcore traditionalist sort of place, with a monosyllabic barman, a dartboard, the rules of Quoits posted on the wall, and other pub games of a more mysterious nature available to play, too.

The time came for us to board our ferry, which was a catamaran type, a bit smaller than the ones we’d travelled on the day before,

and so we trooped on board and took our seats.  The skipper gave the usual safety chat and then set off.  He said that it was “pretty calm” on the water. If so, I’d hate to be in what he called rough, because on the first stretch of the journey, it felt like the ferry was airborne at times. It certainly crashed around a lot, but he seemed unfazed by it and no-one on board was sick, so maybe this was normal. After a bit everything calmed down and the remainder was a smooth journey (about an hour in total). I noticed, as we headed into Stewart Island, that the skipper had given one of the crew a chance to have a go at driving.

So: Stewart Island, then. Had you asked me, before this trip, how many islands constituted New Zealand, I would have said “two”; and I would have been wrong. There are three main islands, and Stewart Island is that third island, roughly 1800 km² in size. (You’ll remember, of course, that Cook fudged the island issue when he did his charting of the country in 1769/70, when he came up with this chart:

Drawn by James Cook - International Cartographic Association, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1416909

He deliberately left Stewart Island as part of the mainland in order to fool those damn’ Frenchies and stop them sniffing around with a view to claiming the island for themselves. But, as we’d just confirmed for ourselves, it really is an island. 85% of it is a national park and the only settlement is a town called Oban, which is a small place with fewer than 500 permanent inhabitants.

We were due to be staying at the Kaka Retreat. Rather than having to heave al our bags on to the ferry, we had only brought our backpacks and one small suitcase, so, since everything in Oban is close to everything else in Oban we were happy with a plan to walk to our accommodation. On the way I was less than happy, because although the distances are short, the streets are not flat and although it was a short walk it was quite a steep one, so I was glad to get there. There was no reception evident, so we wandered in and Jane was greeted by a woman at the first chalet who simply said “you’re not in this one”. Somewhat taken aback, Jane asked how we found out which one we were in, and was told to call the Bay Motel. She did so, and that’s when we found out that we’d managed to walk straight past the Bay Motel reception committee on the wharf – they had been waiting there with a sign with our names, and a van to take us up to the Retreat. Thank God for mobile phones, eh?

Anyway, the lady in charge came up from the wharf with a couple of other guests who were staying there and showed us around the accommodation. We settled in (yes, Twinings finest Earl Grey was involved) and prepared ourselves for our activity that evening, which was due to start in about an hour’s time….

…and which you’ll have to read about in the next entry. See you there!