“Each of us is a biography, a story. Each of us is a singular narrative, which is constructed, continually, unconsciously, by, through, and in us – through our perceptions, our feelings, our thoughts, our actions; and, not least, our discourse, our spoken narrations. Biologically, physiologically, we are not so different from each other; historically, as narratives – we are each of us unique.”
from: The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat by Oliver Sacks
Today is Easter Sunday. In Portugal, as in other parts of the world, Christians celebrate in essence the gift of life. A gift that was preceded by death and resurrection. Still in the midst of a strict lockdown to prevent movement and gathering, it will be the second time Easter is celebrated in pockets of isolation. In a culture where family and tradition play an important role, it must weigh heavy on the heart and mind.
For me, the isolation the pandemic brought, confirmed my introversion and joy I find in my own company. Friendship to me is hard work. People tend to exhaust me, even though I enjoy bouts of good company and deep conversation. But as an introvert it is only when I’m alone that my energy is restored. Perhaps that is why I love writing. It is a way in which I can voice my thoughts, impressions and emotions without the demands of immediate interaction.
A place I’ve always found soothing, since I discovered the peace and tranquillity it holds when I was 21, is a cemetery. Not the depressing ones of my country of birth, but the ones that have tall trees and broad pathways. Where birdsong rings out and watering cans sit waiting next to taps.
During my recent visit to Lisbon I exchanged the eeriness of empty streets for the quiet solitude of Cemitério dos Prazeres. The Cemetery of Pleasures derives its name from a 16th century estate known as Quinta dos Prazeres that once existed here, and not some strange sense of irony. Founded in 1833 after an outbreak of cholera in the city, when authorities realised that it was unwise to continue burying people in churches and monasteries, it is located in the area where the rich lived. Over time it became the last resting place, not just of the wealthy, but many important figures in Portugal’s history, including presidents and prime ministers, artists, musicians, and writers.
I arrived at the tall iron gates, designed by the architect Domingos Parente da Silva, shortly after they were flung open wide for the day. The streets on this particular wintry Saturday morning lay empty and quiet as I made my way from my rented apartment at the top end of Avenida da Liberdade, past the shuttered Casa Fernando Pessoa and the Igreja do Santo Condestável, where a solitary figure was making good use of the open space to engage in some high intensity training.
Wandering aimlessly through the avenues lined by impossibly tall cypresses, which I later read are the largest and oldest on the Iberian Peninsula, the realities of the world, being choked by the repercussions of what is starting to feel like an endless pandemic, melted away as I embraced the monochromatic world of the dead.
“. . . one is as likely to encounter the eccentric as the nondescript, to find people who are but a series of marginal notes in the book of life.”
– Fernando Pessoa
There is an endless array of photo opportunities ranging from the ornate to the mundane to the neglected, and as I strolled I inevitably remembered all the people who were once an important part of my life, but no longer walk the earth. My mother was my age when she passed away almost thirty years ago, suddenly and unexpectedly from a stroke. As a young adult obsessed with my volatile emotional life, I never gave any thought to her as a separate human being with a rich interior life, until now. As I reflect on my own life, place in the world, and the fleetingness of it all, these days, I realise just how young she was.
“How will we ride out our own era of historic tumult—a brutal pandemic, cracked climates, eroding economies, anti-democratic revolts—when we’re encumbered with the sweet weight of a place we call home: the beloved faces, the lifelong routines, the comfort of belongings?”
– Paul Salopek
Power and money wax and wane with the cycles of time, and each historic period is marked by its own set of challenges. Technology, although it has brought connection and information at the click of a button, has also created spaces where conflict and skewed information thrive. Self-righteousness and indignation seemed to have become badges of honour.
We can never know the full extent of the lives that others live or have lived which formed their opinions, values and choices, especially when they differ completely from ours, yet innocent questions on public forums can provoke a slew of insults and judgements without a pause. While some lives have been saved through the implementation of strict lockdowns, others are destroyed through a loss of income. There is never just one perfect outcome resulting from good intentions. Life is a mixture of difficult choices giving birth to both solutions and unforeseen complications. And somewhere amidst all of this, each one of us has to create a life for ourselves as best we can.
“We’re all biased, and nobody is immune. We all need preconceptions of one type or another, they help us pilot a path through the world.”
– Stephen Fabes
Portuguese Words:
mausoléus – mausoleums
Cemitério dos Prazeres – Cemetery of Pleasures
Páscoa – Easter
a morte – death
a vida – life
Notes:
# Cemeterio dos Prazeres can be reached by taking tram 28 to its last stop, Prazeres.
# Winter Hours: Daily, 9am – 5pm / Summer Hours: Daily, 9am – 6pm
# Several thematic routes were created by the grouping of deposits, such as the history of the cemetery, personalities, architecture, sculpture, symbolism, Freemasonry, the Palmela deposit and heraldry. Each street in the cemetery has a sign that identifies its number and the symbolism of each type of route to which it belongs.
# Covering an area of 12.6 hectares it is almost impossible to visit each nook and corner of this fascinating space, where renowned architects and sculptors were employed to create edifices to the dead, in just one visit.
# One of Portugal’s most celebrated writers (and one I love quoting), Fernando Pessoa, was buried here, until his remains were removed to Jerónimos Monastery.
# Amália Rodrigues, also known as the Queen of Fado and another well-known novelist Aquilino Ribeiro were both buried here until their reinternment at the National Pantheon.
Written by: Jolandi
Happy Easter to you, fellow introvert. What a delicious necropolis to explore and an excellent post for a holiday about resurrection and new life. Some of the tombs remind me of “grave houses” I recently learned about in cemeteries on the British Columbia coast at the time of colonization. Natives traditionally constructed mortuary poles – totem poles to hold cremated remains. And then when the Europeans came and tried to get them to give up their traditional communal living, and provided them construction materials to build nuclear family homes, they instead built grave houses, for the ghosts of their elders, to take the place of mortuary poles.
I am sad to hear your mother died so young. I appreciate the opportunities I have had to consider my elders as young people. Strange that it’s a surprise for me to imagine them young and vivacious. I love the image at the top, with the sun reaching its fingers through the trees. I could spend days in this cemetery. Thank you for taking us with you.
Thank you for joining me on this stroll through the cemetery, Crystal. It is definitely a place I can revisit over and over again, and I’m quite sure it will be a very different experience each time. I love how the native people replaced their mortuary poles with grave houses. It says so much about what they held dear to their hearts. It is a mystery to me that we are forever trying to change people to be more like us, while it is our differences that give colour to life. Blessings to you and your loved ones this Easter. – Jolandi
I have always found a strange peace in cemeteries also, especially this type, with its streets of “houses” and some of the accoutrements of a living neighborhood. Your photos, particularly those with the sun weakly slanting in, take me right back to Paris and Buenos Aires and other beautiful cities of the dead. How sad to read of your mother’s early death and its effects on you. 🙁 Finally, I have started to realize in recent months (and very potently upon reading your owns words) how very much the isolation of the pandemic has exacerbated my own introversion. I do hope I can regain some of my ability to interact pleasantly with others as we re-emerge!
I’ve read about the cemeteries of Paris and Buenos Aires, Lex, and they sound like they would make it to the top of my to visit list if I ever have the privilege to find myself there. My first encounter with beautiful cemeteries was when I worked as an au pair in Germany, when I was 21. I found a lot of solace there when I was homesick, watching little old ladies watering these gorgeous well-cared for “little gardens” with headstones.
I hope you will be able to regain your ability “to interact pleasantly” again with people once all this isolation is over. 🙂 Your comment made me smile, because as Michael and I are both introverts, I often had to force him out to visit friends even when life was ‘normal’. I consider myself much better adjusted to navigate social situations than he is. – Jolandi
It’s nice to stroll amongst the rich, even after they’ve been buried. One of my favorite cemeteries for wandering while in Paris was Père Lachaise and the Cemitério dos Prazeres reminds me of the tree-lined trails and ornate memorials there. As an introvert, I know so well that feeling of replenishment from solitude. Wishing you a lovely season of beginnings in Portugal. Take care.
Thank you, Atreyee. I hope you find places of solitude during the pandemic too, as I find that although there is isolation there isn’t always the solitude I was used to. – Jolandi
Jolandi,
Hope you had a beautiful Easter. Reading the second paragraph, I felt we are kindred spirits. I was always so social in school and as I have gotten older, I don’t enjoy the nonsense that some friendships bring, some just suck the life from you, and those I have tried to disconnect from in the last few years and the pandemic seems to have answered those prayers. The ones I can count on one hand truly are a blessing and make me better. I too recharge with time alone. I am currently writing a book on my husband’s family and after writing for a day, I feel renewed. Like you, great conversations also recharge and I value them.
Thank you for the tour of a stunning cemetery. They are wonderful spots to breathe and listen. Over the past few years, we have visited quite a few to find ancestors. I find myself sitting beside them wishing I could just have one more conversation or meet them to ask questions of their lives. My heart breaks for you having lost your mom when she was so young, I am so sorry.
Your blog post gave me time to stop, read, picture myself walking where you walked and savoring every moment between your words and photos. Thank you!
Stay well and safe,
Terri Brewster
I’m so glad to know that the post gave you time to pause and walk with me. But also to reflect on your own life in the process. That is exactly why I enjoy writing. I love that we are kindred spirits, sharing not just a love for reading, but also uniting as introverts.
Your journey to find ancestors must be a fascinating one. There are so many stories buried with people and to try and unravel them must be quite a task. What have promted you to write a book about your husband’s family, Terri, if I may ask? A good writer friend of mine documented the fascinating story of the journey he went on when he discovered that he is a decendant from one of the biggest slave trading families in America, called Inheriting the Trade.
https://www.amazon.com/Inheriting-Trade-Northern-Confronts-Slave-Trading/dp/0807072826/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3CJGFE98G35D6&dchild=1&keywords=inheriting+the+trade&qid=1617782134&sprefix=inheriting+the+trade%2Caps%2C326&sr=8-1
– Jolandi
Jolandi,
For some reason I don’t get a notification when you reply to my comments, so I am sorry it has taken me some time to get back to you. The ancestor search is fascinating and we really enjoy it. What prompted me to write a book on Tony’s family is that he is a descendant of Elder William Brewster, his wife and one son that came on the Mayflower. His line is a direct male line which isn’t real common. But the family is quite interesting and I want he and our son to have their lineage. I am also working on a book for our son on my side as it is pretty interesting too. Learning the family history reveals a lot and is fun and interesting.
Your friends story is so interesting, I will definitely check it out. Love to read other family histories as it helps so much.
Loved the cemetery, the headstones and grave markers are works of art and so cool to see.
Hope you are doing great!
Terri
No problem, Terri. I wonder why you don’t receive a notification.
It sounds like both you and your husband have interesting ancestors. I always find it fascinating that people have the patience to do all the research to track them down and finding their stories. It cannot be an easy task for you, but I definitely admire the way you show your love for both your husband and son by doing this. What a wonderful gift. – Jolandi
Oh, how I yearn for some time to myself! I am sure that being with my dear husband and daughter all the time is eventually going to drive me crazy! 😀
I have always loved cemeteries and graveyards for their peace and increasingly, for the wildlife living within them. When I was a girl, on family walks we used to stop off at churchyards and have picnics amongst the gravestones. Our house backed onto a churchyard and that was my view from my bedroom window. They have never scared or worried me. I have enjoyed scrolling through your wonderful photos taken on your solitary walk.
I hope you have had an enjoyable Easter
Clare x
You know, I can remember when the pandemic forced Michael to work from home. It nearly drove me insane, Clare, so I have an enormous amount of empathy with you. I can still remember how stressed out I felt listening to every work conversation until he bought me earphones and I blasted Cloud Cult’s album ‘Unplug’ into my ears. It saved me. 🙂
What beautiful memories you have of graveyards, Clare. – Jolandi
For me, the isolation the pandemic brought, confirmed my introversion and joy I find in my own company. Friendship to me is hard work. People tend to exhaust me, even though I enjoy bouts of good company and deep conversation. But as an introvert it is only when I’m alone that my energy is restored.
You’ve summarized what socializing has always felt to me, even when I’m in the company of people I love. It’s also why I have mixed feelings about the end of the pandemic: on the one hand, I’m glad to see it go, after so many people dying, including those I’d known well; on the other hand, I’m losing my excuse to avoid parties and meetups with chatty friends and relatives. (I love you, dear girlfriends, but after an hour of giggling and gossiping, I’m exhausted and just want to go home.) This is not to say I prefer isolation and deathly silence. Some of us are comfortable sitting with our own thoughts, with just cats and books for company.
Old cemeteries are laden with history. I’ve also liked walking around them during the day. Not so much the night. 😉
I love you, dear girlfriends, but after an hour of giggling and gossiping, I’m exhausted and just want to go home.
Oh, how I can relate to that, Hangaku. Like you, I love sitting with my own thoughts, cats and books for company. And like you say, it is not that we don’t love the people in our lives, it is just that it takes so much out of us. And with technology they seem to intrude upon my solitude more than what I like. – Jolandi
I seem to have fallen out of the habit, but in the early years of our marriage Bill was quite accustomed to me stopping at cemeteries on our road trips. Those of country Australia are not as grand as this, but they tell a tale. In many small communities everyone was related, at least through marriage. And in one case, although the cemetery was very small, there was a distinct path: Anglicans one side and Catholics the other – never the two to meet.
Your pictures are beautiful. Thank you for showing the mausoleums in this particular light. It gives them an even more ethereal feel.
How fascinating, Gwen. I guess each country, city, small town have their own unique little quirks, even among the dead. Thank you for walking with me through this fascinating cemetery. – Jolandi
Oh, magnificent! I’d love to visit it too very much. Three days ago I posted some doors from various cemeteries in Italy and Slovenia. I bet I could find many over here as well. (And just recently I acquired the first book you quote from but haven’t started it yet. The title makes me quite curious.)
You will love the doors in this cemetery, Manja. There are some very photogenic ones.
It is definitely one of the most catchy titles for any kind of book. I hope you enjoy it. – Jolandi
What a beautiful cemetery! The tombs/mausoleums remind me a bit of my stroll through the famous Recoleta Cemetery in Buenos Aires—a fascinating and peaceful place despite it being a major attraction. Your rumination about your mother hit a chord. The other day I picked up an old photo album stashed on the bottom shelf of mom’s room in her care home. I don’t think I’d ever looked at it and was surprised to see some of the places my mom and dad had visited and things they did in the 80s—a time when I was clearly totally self-absorbed. It makes me a little sad that I didn’t ask them more questions and take more interest in their lives beyond them just being mom and dad.
I wonder why it is that we often only realise that our parents lived interesting lives when we cannot extract the details any longer. Apart from being self-absorbed when we are young, life can also be a bit overwhelming at times, so I guess we can use that to soften the regrets. And perhaps the parent-child relationship is always a tricky one to navigate, even when one has/had a good relationship. By blogging, at least we will leave stories behind of what we treasured and experienced, which really is a wonderful gift that will remain long after we are dead. – Jolandi