Camino Portugues Day 8: Prison, Library, Bat Cave (Three accurate names for one building)

— COIMBRA

Visitors to the Biblioteca Joanina at the University of Coimbra get a total of 20 minutes inside once their ticket is marked. 10 minutes exactly for the first and second floors — the lower prison and the featured book collection just above it — and another 10 minutes in the grand main-floor library. Carved teak and oak surround the bookshelves, which reach several stories high and are accessible to the collection's keepers by a series of ladders and hidden staircases, all below the spectacular vaulted ceiling painted in gold and rose and blue sky colored angelic scenery. Because we weren't allowed to take pictures in the library, and because I FOLLOW DIRECTIONS, here's something Google would like to share:

The collection is comprised of 250,000 some odd texts, dating from the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries. Humidity control prevents breakdown from moisture, the massive teak vault door helps to maintain a constant temperature, and the oak interior structures emits an odor repellent to harmful insects. See the "vault" door below. This is the upper, technically third, floor.

"So Hannah," you might be thinking, "You mentioned a prison. Was the library built on top of an old prison?"

NOPE. The library's lower floor WAS the prison, namely for students caught breaking university rules. It's a series of tight stone corridors and small rooms. As for the bats, they did and still do live in the upper eaves of the main floor, cutivating what the University calls a "special" relationship with the ancient books that furnish their home, keeping them safe from moths and other insects. And if you think I spent most of my 10 minutes inside craning my neck looking for bats, you'd be right. But they only come out at night. Apparently. And to protect the interior artifacts from the night's bat-ly activities, each evening the bookkeepers cover the ornate wooden furniture in leather towels, and each morning they tidy up. After their friends the bats. This is one of my new favorite places I've ever seen. It just makes you want to discover something doesn't it?

The University of Coimbra is one of the world's oldest continuously operating universities. It was founded in 1290 and operated in both Lisbon and Coimbra, until it was officially rooted only to the latter in 1537. It sits on a hilltop above town, overlooking it's many cathedrals, defensive walls, and the expansive river Mondego. Hiking up to it requires traversing a series of impossibly steep, narrow cobblestone streets and several alley staircases, all winding up to this opening promenade. (Library on the left.)

Statues, even more stately than those I've seen in other historic areas, decorate pathways and buildings. Many of these guardians of Coimbra's institutes of knowledge are women, which was particularly pointed out by my paper guide, though the reason was not explained. 

A bustling modern university now, Coimbra is full of students — gathering in noisy clumps in cafes, at protests in the street, and in groups of boistrous singers roving between bars after dark. I saw many small groups during the day all clad in long, black woolen capes. This amid the cobblestone and statuary, the old buildings with bats and everywhere the air of antiquity, it was hard not to let my mind wander to the distinct possibility that this was indeed Hogwarts, and any minute I'd turn a curious corner and run into someone selling wands. I can't help it. To someone who grew up with nearly zero buildings that had a pre-1900 history, where construction from "before the 'quake" was notable, everything in Europe carries a suggestion of mysticism. I know that many buildings have been reconstructed and there's plenty of mirage over the grandeur. But, naive or not, I wouldn't trade that suggestion of magic for the world. But then, haven't I felt a different but comparable magic in Alaska? Especially for some reason in winter, specifically when you're walking quickly from the car up to a friend's porch ¸— that smell of woodsmoke and dinner interrupting the cold air is about as magical as anything else I suppose I could find. But. I digress. 

In the realm of modern artifact, spray paint graffiti is incredibly common, and no momument too precious to be marked. 

Here we have some anti-establishment propaganda on the math building, which I enjoyed immensely. 

And an inexplicable "Alaska" found in the neighborhood just below the University. 

I rounded the day out with my first truly awesome meal so far. Roasted eggplant and grilled octopus, marinated olives, and four kinds of bread to capture all the sauces they came in. I ended it with a creme brûlée that was obviously meant to share, and was glad I didn't have to. I was also glad for the ten flights of stairs and umpteen cobblestone streets I had to walk on the way back to the hostel, which I think is the only thing that saved me from a sugar coma following dessert. 

Tomorrow, a train to Porto, to restart the Camino.