Festa de São João, One of Europe’s Biggest Street Festivals

By Stephen Bugno

To experience Portugal at its most uninhibited, untamed and inebriated, don’t miss Porto’s massive, traditional annual Feast of St. John’s Eve.

For one night every year, the city of Porto, Portugal goes absolutely wild. The celebration—Festa de São João—or Feast of St. John’s Eve, takes place on the evening of June 23rd and goes to the daylight hours of the 24th. On this night, seemingly the entire population comes to the city center and surrounding neighborhoods to honor John the Baptist and partake in the evening’s numerous traditions.

Although relatively unknown outside Portugal, Festa de São João is undoubtedly one of Europe’s biggest street celebrations. No matter their economic standing, age, or race, Porto’s citizens come out as equals to generate an unrivaled atmosphere that erupts in the city’s public plazas, squeezes through the steep, narrow, cobbled streets, and surges down to the river.

Try the Food

Throughout the evening, folks stroll through the packed streets pausing at carnival games, shop-stalls, and performance stages. Perhaps the most looked-forward to pastime is sampling the festival’s food: fried dough such as farturas and churros and pork sandwiches called bifanas. However, these are all second to Sardines—grilled and salted to perfection. Wash everything down with a glass of wine or beer—beverages not difficult to find at any bar, sidewalk stand, or vender the whole night.

Traditions

Oddly enough, one of the stranger traditions of the festival is the hitting of each other over the head with plastic hammers that squeak; or if you prefer, dangling a leek for the initiated to smell. Where these traditions comes from, no one has an answer.

At midnight, all eyes temporarily halt to view to the huge fireworks display over the river Douro with the graceful Ponte Dom Luis I silhouetted in the background. Free concerts, complemented by spontaneous street dancing, continue simultaneously in various parts of the city. At some point during all this commotion, many stop to set off candle-powered, paper hot-air balloons into the night. At any given moment, a glance to the sky over the river will yield views dotted with the beautiful glowing balloons.

The Walk to the Beach

Lighting the hot air ballon

Traditionally, festival-goers slowly make their way by foot along the river several miles out to the beaches at the edge of Porto where a parallel, slightly alternative São João party is taking place. Here, out past the modern suburbs, young people continue dancing to the techno thump until well after sunrise.

The Portuguese like to say that “Lisbon plays, Braga prays and Porto works,” but on the night of Festa de São João, it is Porto that celebrates.

Stephen Bugno took part in the São João Festival in June of 2008 when he visited from neighboring Spain. For more than a decade he has worked, volunteered, and traveled his way around the world. He blogs at BohemianTraveler.com.

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By Stephen Bugno

Like Saul, I greatly anticipated my arrival to Damascus, an ancient city even in his day. I, however, was not coming to persecute Christians, but to retrace his important life-changing events that would prove to be the most important in Christianity after the life, death, and resurrection of Christ.

Shrine of Saint Paul on the Walls

As Saul approached the city, a light shown from heaven all around him and he fell to the ground. Saul was a Jew from Tarsus (in modern-day Turkey); on a mission to arrest new Christian converts in Damascus. As he lay on the ground blinded and confused, a voice spoke out: “Saul, Saul why are you persecuting me?” It was Jesus speaking to him.

Unable to see, his companions led him into Damascus to the house of Judas where he waited, having nothing to eat or drink for three days.

The Conversion of Saul

Meanwhile, a local disciple Ananias heard God in a vision tell him to go to the street called Straight, and enquire in the house of Judas for one called Saul.

So Ananias arrived and put his hands on Saul and carried out the Lord’s orders. Immediately scales fell from Saul’s eyes and restored his vision. Saul of Tarsus left the house as a baptized Paul and began proclaiming Jesus as the Son of God.

At the St. Ananias Chapel, a wall of illustrations takes me through these events of Paul’s conversion. The chapel, located deep in the Christian quarter of old Damascus, commemorates his conversion and baptism of Saul.

I follow the stairs down to the original Roman street level where the stone house stood in the time of Christ. The chapel is small with a few pews in front of an altar adorned with more depictions of the miracles. In a side shrine, the visitors before me have stuffed hand written petitions through a metal grate.

Escaping Damascus

The Chapel of Ananias photo: Stephen Bugno

Leaving the St. Ananias Chapel, I continue down the narrow lane to the biblical Straight Street and through the Bab Sharqi, or Eastern Gate, around the outside edge of the old city walls to the Shrine of Saint Paul on the walls. This is the place that most accurately marks where Paul escaped out of a window through the ancient gate, Bab Kisan. It lies in the southeastern part of Damascus, which even at that time was populated with Christians, close to the start of the Roman road that led to Jerusalem.

Inside the church, my travel companion, who was once in the seminary, enthusiastically explains the painted scenes that depicted Paul’s activity before, during and after his journey to Damascus. He reiterates just how crucial these places were, not only in Paul’s life, but for the whole of Christianity. If Saul had remained a Jewish rabbi, we wouldn’t have fourteen books of the New Testament.

My friend goes on to explain that after his conversion, Paul went on to preach the word of Christ in the synagogues around town and consequently the Jews quickly conceived a plot to kill him. So they stood guard around the city gates and as described in Acts, “the disciples took him by night, and let him down by the wall in a basket.” We gazed at the replica basket to help us imagine the events better.

Today, the church’s fortress-like appearance appropriately resembles a high city gate, its thick stones, including some originals, represent the barrier between Paul and his freedom, and consequently, the future of Christianity. As Ananias’ original house was destroyed and replaced by a mosque after the Arab conquest, so was the fate of the church which originally commemorated St. Paul’s escape.

The present shrine was finished in 1941 and in 2001 the site was visited by Pope John Paul II on his footsteps of St. Paul pilgrimage. Since 1964, the Melkite-Greek Catholic Church has maintained the site along with its adjacent orphanage and home for the elderly.

After leaving Damascus, Paul returned to Jerusalem before going abroad to become one of the church’s foremost evangelizers. Pope Benedict designated the Pauline year to run from June 28, 2008 to June 29, 2009, commemorating the approximate 2,000th anniversary of the saint’s birth.

We left Damascus in a more stress-free fashion than Paul did, surprised by the Christian presence that still thrives in this heavily Muslim country and by the friendliness and hospitality of both the Syrian Christians and Muslims alike.

If You Go

Damascus, one of the oldest cities in the world, is a magnificent place to visit, chock-full of history. Syria is safe for U.S. citizens to visit and a visa, available only at the Syrian embassy in Washington, DC, is required. If including Syria on a pilgrimage to the Holy Lands, remember to visit before traveling on to Israel because an Israeli stamp in your passport will bar your entry to Syria.

Stephen Bugno visited Damascus during a six-month overland journey from Istanbul to Cairo. His articles and essays have appeared in The San Francisco Chronicle, The Philadelphia Inquirer, The Seattle Times, and Transitions Abroad magazine. He edits the Gomad Nomad Travel Mag.

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By Stephen Bugno

a fellow pilgrim on the Camino de Santiago

Not a morning passes when I don’t hear the oop oop oop of the hoopoe. Some days I walk through vineyards, other days through centuries-old olive groves.

Usually the camino follows dirt roads, but at times I suffer the unforgiving impact of the pavement. Occasionally my way narrows into single-track, and I savor those moments. Wildflowers saturate the Andalusían spring. The waves of orange, yellow, and red make me smile when the pain in my feet demands otherwise.

When I arrive in Extremadura, free-range pig farms and cork forests compose the land. Later comes the monotony of the plains and the burn of the mountain climbs. I always pass cow pastures, and sometimes a toro stands alone on the opposite side: the road cutting the farm in two.

I can’t fully appreciate Spain’s history until I cross Merida’s 60-arch Roman bridge and slip underneath its triple-tiered aqueduct. Since I am an American, these are the features that imprint my memory and are too often taken for granted by Europeans who have grown up with them. In Salamanca, I ponder the generations of academics who have toiled inside the high walls of the university’s oldest buildings.

In Galicia, I pass through stone-built villages: Laza, Cea, and Laxe, so old they are inseparable from the landscape. The villages here are situated closer together than those in the regions I’ve come from. The green rolling hills are cut into lots by waist-high rock walls. The aging faces and lack of cars expose the sharp contrast between the outdated countryside and the vibrancy of modern Madrid.

view from along the Camino

I walk to experience life at walking pace. I catch what those traveling by car and tour bus miss. Moving at this speed I feel Spain in my tired joints, I hear Spain in the ringing of church bells, I taste Spain in each of the changing regional delicacies as I make my way north from Sevilla on the Via de la Plata.

Instead of pulling over to a scenic view point for five minutes, the view follows me for five miles. I see Spain unfold in front of me—the landscape picture book of back roads, front roads, agriculture, mountains, meseta, and lavender-lined footpaths. Time passes along the way: 38 mornings of café con leche and 38 evenings of tintos y tapas.

When I walk I become part of the environment. When the wind blows and the sky pours I become cold and wet. The warm Iberian sun dries me back to warmth and the thick oak groves shade my rest breaks when it becomes too dominant.

I am happy to say buenos dias to the townspeople in each community I pass through. I appreciate their brief hospitality and the fleeting moments we cross paths. They smile: surprised that I’m so young and walking alone.

I have always been told that the journey is more important than the destination. So, nearing the end, I try to downplay the significance of my arrival at the cathedral in Santiago. But I can’t convince myself that tomorrow will not be extraordinary.

Santiago de Compostela is a special place, and after walking almost six weeks to get there, the magnitude of my arrival will only be amplified by the journey that got me here.

Stephen Bugno walked the 1000 km from Sevilla to Santiago de Compostela on the Via de la Plata in the spring of 2008. His writing has appeared in The San Francisco Chronicle, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Transitions Abroad, and the Matador Network.

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by Stephen Bugno

I see now why they’re called the “steps of repentance”. Some people learn the hard way why they’re so aptly named. Luckily our guide explained that there was a second way to the top of the mountain where Moses received the Ten Commandments, on the longer, more gradual, Camel Path.

Atop Mt. Sinai

It was 2 a.m. when we started from the base of the mountain near St. Catherine’s Monastery. We would spend the next 2½ hours climbing Mt. Sinai, or Jebel Musa (Mt. Moses) as the Arabs call it, the moonlight enough to steer us up the well-worn path to the summit.

At the summit I was shocked to see hundreds of others camped out in anticipation of the sunrise. We all waited patiently, chilly even under warm blankets, for the most dramatic and divine sunrise I’ve ever witnessed, the sun breaking over the pointed mountains in this incredibly barren landscape.

We descended down a steep ravine by way of the 3,750 “steps of repentance”, illuminated in a striking orange glow by the morning sun. The steps were so named by one of the monastery’s monks, and walked by those in need of penance. We certainly felt compassion for those few on their way up.

The Monastery

Most of the way down we could see our destination below: St. Catherine’s Monastery. Located at the foot of Mt. Sinai, it is said to be the oldest continuously functioning Christian monastery in the world and has been designated a UNESCO world heritage site.

St. Catherine's Monastery

Despite its remote desert location, the monastery and mountain hike are extremely popular, the hardest decision not being whether to go or not, but to go for sunrise or sunset. The morning I visited, I pushed through the narrow monastery doors with bus loads of Russian package pilgrims and European and American tourists.

We spilled inside through the massive fortifications that have preserved this monastery for more than fourteen centuries. We immediately moved towards the Basilica of the Holy Transfiguration, built in the sixth century by Eastern Emperor Justinian, where the liturgy is still observed today. A huge mosaic of Christ in his glorious transfiguration adorns the apse.

Nearby, the monastery library holds the second largest collection of early codices and manuscripts in the world, preserving more than any other place except the Vatican library. The monastery also holds a significant collection of religious treasures, including an important collection of icons.

As I exited the basilica I saw the Burning Bush. Reading Old Testament stories, especially as a child, I always imagined the events; the people, places, and things in the stories as ancient history. Before my Middle East trip I was excited to learn that some of these places actually do still exist today and from the outset of my journey to the Holy Lands, St. Catherine’s Monastery was on my must-see list.

Crowding around the bush, pilgrims cut pieces from the dangling branches, which hung over everyone’s head, just as it has for centuries. As tradition states, it is the original bush that Moses saw, which was “on fire, but was not consumed by the flames,” as we know from Exodus.

There is also a mosque inside the monastery which symbolizes the mutual religious tolerance surrounding St. Catherine’s. It is known to be the only mosque in the world inside of a sacred Christian site and is still used by the monks’ Bedouin groundskeepers.

Catherine of Alexandria

Although officially called The Sacred and Imperial Monastery of the God-Trodden Mount of Sinai, first dedicated to the prophets Moses and Elias, the monastery became associated with St. Catherine when her bones were said to have been transported here by angels and discovered by monks around 800.

Sunrise from atop Mt. Sinai

As a young woman, Catherine devoted herself to the pursuit of knowledge, and in addition to being highly learned in philosophy and theology, she was very beautiful and sexually pure as well. However, it was her faith to which she was most dedicated, and because of her enduring love of Jesus Christ, she was tortured, starved, and finally sentenced to death.

Pleading with the Roman Emperor Maxentius to no longer persecute Christians, Catherine was unsuccessful. But she did well in converting his wife, the Empress, and many others. She was ultimately sentenced to death by the spiked wheel, which has since become known as the Catherine Wheel, but during the execution it miraculously broke down and she was then beheaded.

St. Catherine’s feast day is celebrated on the 25^th of November and the monastery that takes her name survives today, as an important reserve of early Christian art, architecture and manuscripts.

Planning your visit

The oldest continuous and active Christian monastery is located in the heart of the Sinai Peninsula, in modern day Egypt. It’s easy to join one of the many group tours from any of the resorts in Sinai. For those who don’t wish to hike up to the summit, camels can be rented at the foot of the mountain.

Getting there

St. Catherine’s Monastery and Mt. Sinai can easily be included on trip to Egypt by way of Cairo, or while visiting the Holy Land, via Jerusalem. The Taba-Elat border crossing from Israel to Sinai, Egypt remains open for travelers in the region. Plan at least an eight hour trip by car or bus from either Cairo or Jerusalem.

Stephen Bugno visited the Sinai during a six-month overland journey from Istanbul to Cairo. His articles and essays have appeared in The San Francisco Chronicle, The Philadelphia Inquirer, The Seattle Times, and Transitions Abroad magazine. He edits the Gomad Nomad Travel Mag.

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by Jett Thomason

I had just finished planning and running a boys camp at my lyceum. With the summer mostly wide-open, I’ve been trying to see the interesting sites that get neglected when you actually live in a historical place. My most recent touristy visit was to a minaret in the nearby town of Shiforkan. The minaret is one of the tallest in Uzbekistan and might be the most overlooked of all the tourist sites here. From the main highway, the tower is visible for about thirty seconds. Many locals are unaware of its existence, and frankly, most locals are unaware of the town of Shifokan’s existence.

I arrived in Shifokan with two other Peace Corps volunteers who had worked at my camp. We strolled up to the town square expecting to find some sort of tourist information and the usual vendors hawking needless junk. Instead the minaret attracted about as much attention as a radio antenna. And from the looks of the top, there were several of those with wires stretching suspiciously into the offices of a nearby clinic. Access to the minaret appeared to be only through a locked door… about ten feet above the ground.

Not knowing whom to ask, we went to the nearest women selling newspapers. As I phrased my questions carefully in Uzbek, a man in line took one look at us and told us he could help. After going through The Conversation “Whereyoufrom whatareyoudoinghere areyoumarried howmuchmoneydoyoumake?” he took us into a small TV shop. One man was working in front of a pile of electrical boards with what appeared to be a piece of rebar and sparklers. Our guide explained the situation.

“They are Americans! They want to go to the minaret!”

“Hmm, they need permission to climb it from the mayor,” the salesman replied.

“How do we get that?” I asked.

“Well, they won’t give you permission,” he told me.

“So…. what do we do?”

“Well, I suppose we’ll go. After all, one has to respect guests.”

And with that sweeping comment on the culture of hospitality, he grabbed a flashlight, closed the shop behind him and led us around the corner. Away from the minaret.

I ignored this. Ignoring something blatantly wrong usually works here. As we walked down the back road, the guide told us the minaret hadn’t been opened for about three years. Too many people getting vodka and bright ideas into their head at the same time. After one too many drunks came down the tower the hard way, the minaret was locked up.

“But you’re guests, we’ll be quick and it’ll be fine.”

We knocked on someone’s door, asked for a ladder and went back the minaret. A small crowd of children gathered to watch from a safe distance. The ladder went up, and so did our guide. I scrambled up after him; the ladder was about a yard shy of the door. My friends followed. As my eyes focused, I saw that each step was about half a foot under dry but slippery pigeon guano. With the flashlight, we crawled up the very cramped and dark stairs. About a dozen nests with pigeons were laid out all the way up the path. Who’d of thought I’d have to come to Central Asia to see my first baby pigeons?

A few steps were rotten and there were a few close calls. As we got closer, more light came down the stairs. Suddenly there was the roof and open platform.

I’ve been on many high buildings in America, but the several minutes it took to get to the tower top made it feel much higher. Shiforkan had just been a dull place in between other cities I wanted to be in. This view changed all that. We could see far across the flat irrigated fields. The town was small enough to see its boundaries in sharp relief. House courtyards were suddenly open into view. We could quickly see and understand the town, see all the people in the streets and houses doing their work.

I imagined how many centuries this had been used to call people to prayer. And now it was mostly a TV antenna booster. Just then the TV repairman yelled at us to hurry down. We snapped some pictures, took one more look at the amazing view, and then walked back down into the normal, unremarkable town.
Jett Thomason was a TEFL volunteer in Uzbekistan from 2002- 2004 in the United States Peace Corps. Since then, he’s worked in Afghanistan and Iraq and traveled extensively throughout Asia, Europe, and the countries of the Former Soviet Union. He is currently pursuing a masters degree in public policy from Georgetown University in Washington, DC.

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by Stephen Bugno

In my travels throughout Spain the last few years I have been intrigued by the many sites associated with the Knights Templar, with their peculiar architecture and varied locations. Consequently, my curiosity regarding this mysterious half-religious half-military order had grown.

So while traveling through Portugal recently I decided a visit to their extraordinary headquarters—the Convento de Cristo, or Convent of Christ would certainly be in order to try and shed some light on their mystique.

Choosing the small city of Tomar, about two hours north of Lisbon, the Knights Templar established their religious headquarters and military stronghold in 1162. Here the fortress-cum-monastery, sits imposingly, perched above town, impressing and intimidating those in the old city below.

The First Crusade and Re-conquest

The Templars were formed in the aftermath of the First Crusade of 1096, with their original purpose to ensure the safety of Christian pilgrims en route to Jerusalem and to safeguard the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. A later objective was to expel the Moors from the Iberian Peninsula while providing the local inhabitants with military security.

By 1249 the re-conquest of Portugal was complete, and consequently the Knights Templar reaped tracts of land and networks of castles throughout the region. Their power and wealth was soon a threat the European monarchs.

Heavily pressured, Pope Clement disbanded the Knights in 1312 and soon after Portuguese King Denis cleverly replaced them with the Order of Christ, which inherited the Templar’s assets in Portugal.

The Architectural Highlights

Thus, the mighty Convento de Cristo came under the Order’s control. The vast complex, including the charola, cloisters, dormitories, and gardens embrace several styles of Portuguese architecture from the 12th to the 17th century, and showcases the finest examples of the exquisite Manueline design.

My visit began with a walk through the fortress walls and into the garden. As I approached the charola, I admired its round construction, supported with buttresses rising up to a battlemented terrace, giving it a castle-like appearance from the outside. Like most circular churches, it was modeled after the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem.

There’s no mistaking the purpose of the charola from the inside however. A 12th century, sixteen-sided, fresco-covered rotunda contains a centerpiece two-story octagonal prism which holds the high alter complimented by wooden statues of the prophets and painted scenes from the life of Christ. This is the sacred heart of the whole complex, and it was here, I imagine, the knights drew their religious convictions.

An archway connects the charola to the nave of the church, built in the early 16th century on two levels, split into the choir and vestry. The crowning highlight is the sculptural adornment on the west façade in the Manueline style—two corner buttresses and the beautifully ornamented chapter window. Manueline art suggests the Age of Discovery with maritime motifs such as sailors, buoys, sails, coral, seaweed, and ropes.

From the church I stepped out into the Main Cloister, a masterpiece of Renaissance Neoclassicism and without doubt the most spectacular of the cloisters. Inspired by Italian architecture, it has two stories, displaying Greek columns and gentle arches. This cloister, just one of seven others in the complex, was built to connect the church to the monk’s dormitories.

From Headquarters to Monastery

It was João III, in the mid-16th century, who put the convento in Convento de Cristo with the addition of monk’s cells, dormitories, kitchens, refectory, offices, and four new cloisters. A strict monastic life would be the standard following this point. The site would remain a monastic community until it was forced to terminate in 1834.

The convent then fell into private hands and was even used as a military barracks until it was purchased by the state in 1936 and was declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 1982 after major restoration work.

The Convento de Cristo entwines the most outstanding religious, military, and imperial features of Portuguese history and what remains today illustrates the pinnacle of wealth, prestige, and power that the Knights Templar once held. A visit to Tomar allowed me a peak into their curious and enigmatic history.

Visiting the Convento de Cristo

Tomar is easily accessible from Lisbon or Porto by car or train. Hours: daily June-Sept 9am-6pm; Oct-May 9am-5pm. From the center of Tomar, it’s a 15 minute walk uphill to site.

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