College Town

After a couple cups of Delta coffee (since coming here I’ve become a snob in that regard), we boarded a quick train to Coimbra. Our initial plans for traveling in Portugal had us renting a car, but the Covid crisis priced us out that option. So no increased heart rate going into the centripetal swarm of a traffic circle trying to guess which spoke to veer off on as we try to translate the minuscule traffic signs. No plunging into a two-mile tunnel and wondering if our rental car lights work. No floundering for the correct turnpike cash as we look for the car logo in the list of vehicle prices and hope that the dense paragraph next to the tiny logo wasn’t important. No inching up ancient cobblestone compact car-width streets praying we’re not going the wrong way. No trying to parallel park a compact car in a space designed for rickshaws.

So, other than a train not being on time (and they always are), no stress. The weather app said that by afternoon there would be a 90% chance of rain in Coimbra. We girded ourselves. It was cloudy when we arrived in Coimbra. It was cloudy all afternoon, but no rain. We lowered our gird.

Coimbra is a university town (seven total) and the University of Coimbra, founded in 1290, is one the oldest in Europe. To give the institution that medieval flare, the students wear long black capes. I, for one, lament going to college without a cape. Such an emotionally awkward time and no way to cover one’s uneasiness gracefully. To go from sweeping gesture to masking oneself completely in one swift move—the drama, the majesty!

Capeless, semi-girded in REI and Northface gear (hoods the only nod to medieval fashion), we cut below the University and made our way upstreet and downstreet to the center of town where the obligatory medieval church and plaza attract visitors looking for food. We had a mid-afternoon lunch. We bought pastries of a variety we had yet to sample. We peered from a bridge at a river we have yet to assign a name.

Ella got stopped by two students who were dressed like medieval jesters with plastic begging bowls. They were collecting money “To buy their Doctors dinner.” Inwardly wondering why their doctors couldn’t afford their own dinner, Ella asked me if I had any change. I reached into my pocket and came up with a handful of coins. Glancing into their bowls I saw that they were a quarter filled with a copper colored liquid. I asked what it was. They said, “Wine.” Huh. Okay. I tossed my coins into the wine. They laughed and went down the street where, according to Ella, they picked the coins out of the wine. Oops! You mean I wasn’t supposed to…? Maybe I was meant to drink from the bowls. Where’s my inner bibulous monk when I need him? But wait, this is no Dark Age where people think the Black Plague is God’s curse and not something spread by your pet rat, this is the Age of Covid and we don’t drink from the communal bowl. Hmm… Maybe they were supposed to take my change and drink from the bowls themselves and perhaps perform some giddy little caper. All I know is that they weren’t wearing capes and that was weird.