Note: Originally written in January 2024. The events described below occurred in June 2023.

Narrow cobblestone sidewalks, roads, and plazas are common features throughout Portugal’s towns and countryside villages. Strong and firm, albeit sometimes uneven, they’re part of the historical influence that is integral to this European country’s identity. Admittedly, there is almost a time travel component to cobblestone. It has a way of making you feel as though you’re walking centuries into the past, despite the obvious evidence of modern realities that surround you. 

According to the Portuguese Historical Museum – cobblestone roads originated under the rule of King D. Manuel I of Portugal. In preparation of an upcoming birthday commemoration in the late 15th century, King D. Manuel I issued a decree for cobblestone streets and sidewalks to be constructed across Lisbon. It was thought that the cobblestone, although extremely expensive at the time, would help prevent the city streets from being muddied by the lengthy royal procession and its most extravagant and exotic guest: a richly-ornamented white rhinoceros named Ganga. 

As I walk these cobblestone streets today, there’s certainly no mud to be found. 

It’s summer. The day is sunny and bright, without a single cloud in the sky. It was the type of day that required sunglasses, for without them you’re left perpetually squinting from the overbearingly bright sun above. 

Today we’re exploring Tomar, a small town deep in the back-country of Portugal that is steeped with historical and religious history. Pigeons flutter throughout the main town square, called Praça da Repúblic (or Republic Square) which is bordered by churches and political buildings. The cobblestone plaza is colored in a black and white square pattern, as if one is walking along a life-sized checkerboard. In the center of the square is a statue of Dom Gualdim Pais, the Grand Master of the Order of the Knights Templar, who founded the City of Tomar in 1161. The statue stands proudly today as a visceral tribute to the town’s historical and religious past.

I snap a few photos and we walk over to the far corner of the square, where tucked under an umbrella’s canopy is a Medieval-themed restaurant. As we entered the dark, cavernous eatery, a rush of cool air provided immediate relief from the heat of the plaza outside. 

Inside, wooden benches ran parallel along the length of thick and heavy tables. Each table was lit by candlelight, as waiters and waitresses adorned in Medieval garb floated by with large platters of food. In one corner of the restaurant, a woman elegantly strums a harp to what must be a Middle Age tune.

While predicated on the aesthetic of tourists seeking an “authentic” Medieval dining experience, we wholesomely played our part: enjoying our meal of meats, olives, bread, and cheeses with their accompanying stone chalices of wine.

After our mid-day meal, we knocked back an espresso and set out to explore our primary destination of the day: the Knights of Templar’s historical fortress known locally as ‘Convento de Christo.’

Before embarking up the hill to the convent, however, we briefly stopped at Santa Maria de Olivais Church of Tomar. Otherwise known as “the Mother Church of Africa, Asia, and South America,” this small church was where Portuguese missionaries would receive blessings before embarking on their church-planting journeys all over the world during the colonial-era.

Standing on the Church of Tomar’s plaza, a massive bell tower stood opposite of the church entrance. Meanwhile, a massive, circular stained-glass window was featured prominently on the church’s facade. The exterior of the church itself seemed to wear its age, its yellow-tainted stone appearing weathered and worn from centuries of existence. Today, the church’s two heavy, wooden doors were left propped open for visitors and congregants. A laminated flyer was pinned onto one of the doors, displaying the various services and times they were to be held in a variety of languages.

Tommy and I slipped inside this serene, quiet cathedral in pursuit of the Portuguese legend allegedly housed inside. While small, the church commanded a presence that compelled an awestruck silence the moment one walks in.

A young, college-aged boy sat behind a simple, fold-out desk as he jotted down his Bible studies into a notebook beside him. We approached, asking about a particular tile in the church floor whose legend piqued our curiosity.

The boy nodded politely and stood up. He strode confidently across the back of the church and around the pews at the end of the row. We followed his every echoing step anxiously, as he walked down the aisle before coming to a sudden stop. He paused briefly, before pointing down the pew toward the tile in question.

Halfway down the row, neatly tucked under one of the banisters, the markings of a chalice was engraved onto a stone tile. 

Portuguese legend has it that the Knights of Templar were the beholders and protectors of the Ark of the Covenant – the infamous relic that held the chalice used by Jesus during the Last Supper. Across the river from this small church was the Convento de Christo, the Knights of Templar’s quarters. But if the Convento de Christo were ever overrun by marauders, it was said the Knights were instructed to escape with the Ark of the Covenant through a secret passageway that would run beneath the convent and across the river, before ultimately leading to an escape hatch underneath this very tile. 

Satisfied with our glimpse of Portuguese legend, we left the church and crossed the river toward Castelo de Tomar. As the fortress surrounding the Convento de Christo, Castelo de Tomar has since become a prominent tourist attraction as well as a UNESCO Heritage Site. The castle’s modern, tourist-driven purpose today was immediately made evident as two men stood in front of its gates, dressed in the full armor and regalia of the Knights of Templar. While a steady stream of tourists were walking past, many stopped and paid the Knights for opportunities to take photos with them.

Stepping through the ancient gates, much like the cobblestone roads earlier this morning, was like being transported through time. Behind the looming stone archway was an open courtyard lined with delicately-manicured shrubs. Stone walls – these ones only about waist high – lined the perimeter of the courtyard. Several signs directed visitors to the various pathways and staircases to access the different grounds of the fort – some of which are currently under renovation. 

While Courtney remained in the courtyard with the kids, Tommy and I climbed the staircases to the top of the fortified stone walls above the grounds. Narrow, uneven walkways required something of a balancing act to navigate. The borderline treacherous nature of these pathways left one to wonder how an armed knight could possibly defend his position in the heat of battle. 

As we walked along the passageways, we stopped to reflect on the cross-shaped gaps built into the walls. Evidently, their purpose was two-fold: intimidate any invaders that God was on the Knights’ side, and more practically as an opening from which to pour hot tar to light on fire whatever enemy was attempting a raid below. This stark and disturbing juxtaposition was a poignant reminder of the brutal, unapologetic realities that lie at the intersection of ancient religion and Medieval warfare. 

Today, however, the top of the fortified walls gave way to a splendid view of the lush, green mountainside. The mountain ridge protruded out into the distant valley, where the red rooftops of Tomar embodied the not-so-distant reality of modern civilization below.

Tommy and I circumnavigated the perimeter of the fortress, dancing across the uneven stonework and exploring every nook and cranny we could find. At the end of the pathway, we found ourselves perched at an overlook of the courtyard below. Complementing our view was a prominent tree, freshly sprung with the most vibrant purple blossoms that I’ve ever seen – a jacaranda tree. The purple was as striking as it was fitting for the Convento de Christo, as it’s said the color purple symbolizes reverence, power, and authority. 

We climbed down the stairs and rejoined Courtney in the courtyard before exiting the fortress from the same ancient gates we came in. We followed the road around the fortress exterior until we arrived at the entrance of the Convento de Christo, itself.

Once inside, the intersection of history and religion once again reaffirmed its presence. The interior walls were decorated with blue and white tiles. Tiles remain a prevalent element to Portugal’s cultural identity, resulting from a combination of Moorish and East Asian influence. Throughout Portugal’s steep history, the influx of trade, goods, and New World exploratory travel that flowed through Lisbon facilitated the cross-cultural integration that marked Portugal as the literal center of the world during the “Age of Discovery.”

The interior of the Convento de Christo were also built with the arched passageways and stone courtyards that were typical of the time. Along its exterior walls, ancient aqueducts stood strong as they had for centuries before, with the ivy climbing its side as the only evidence of time’s inevitable passing.

But one courtyard in particular, more than any other, seemed to be primed for a set in an action film. Two floors of arched passageways aligned its perimeter. At its center, a fountain, long since dry and abandoned. Aside from a few dry, scraggly trees, there was little decorative attention paid to the rest of the courtyard. However, one could almost envision the actors and stunt artists somersaulting and firing their weapons across the courtyard in some sort of James Bond battle royale.

Pausing on this speculative reflection, I turned my gaze upward toward something else that was particularly unique about Convento de Christo. Tommy pointed out the four architectural styles that were visible from the very spot we were standing: Renaissance, Gothic, Manueline and Romanesque.

Exploring the convent grounds further, we entered its internal temple known as the “Charola.” Popular for its vaulted ceilings portraying paintings of Biblical scenes, the Charola was where senior leaders for the Knights of Templar would gather for meetings and official business. It’s another serene place that commands dignity and respect, structured in circular form with a statue commemorating the crucifixion of Jesus at its center. The painted ceilings were particularly high, as it’s said the Knights would not convene here without being mounted on their horses. 

One of the walls, however, was left unmarked and without a Biblical scene painted upon it. This wall, according to legend, marked the beginning of the alleged secret passageway that ran underground and across the river to Santa Maria de Olivais Church of Tomar – the escape route designed for the keepers of the Ark of the Covenant. 

After wandering the Charola in admiring awe, I took a step back to take in its holy totality. Tommy stood front and center, still inside with his younger son Appollos on his hip as he read from the historical marker explaining the Charola’s historical significance.

“How serene,” I could only think to myself. 

A full day of walking these grounds nearly complete, it was time to head home. 

Yet not without one last stop. In order to squeeze every last opportunity out of the day, we drove a little out of our way to Castelo de Almourol. When it was originally built, it marked one of two riverside castles. But today there was only one left standing, as the other was destroyed in a medieval battle centuries ago. Castelo de Almourol was constructed to protect the town of Tomar – a nearly forty-five minute drive by modern standards – so it was quite a distance away. However, it remains standing today as a symbol of its intended purpose: to defend the Knights of Templar for eternity. 

Originally constructed sometime before 1171, it was once in the middle of the Tagus River. This positioning enabled the castle to directly disrupt the passage of enemy vessels en route to Tomar. But now, receding water levels leave the castle accessible on foot from across the river bank. We walked down to a small dock from which river tours of the castle were launched. From there, we took some collective pictures to commemorate the moment. 

The still, tranquil surface of the Tagus River reflected the sky and its surroundings, too, commanding a reverence that was an inherent characteristic of Tomar’s identity. The riverbanks were deep in their beautiful swaths of green foliage, as gray clouds began settling in over the evening.

We soon drove several hours back to the Zeigler home in Samora Correia, where a dinner of meat, cheese, and wine awaited us.

Our day began with walking the cobblestone roads of 15th century Portugal. But now, my feet are sore, so I set them up on the outdoor patio furniture to rest. With a clear night sky above, candlelight on the table, and the occasional violent zap of a mosquito lantern I brought into Portugal for the Ziegler family, we laughed and laughed as we shared stories of the day and the years gone by. 

It’s said that cobblestones not only represent the history of when they were laid, but the stories and traditions of people who have walked its surface throughout the centuries.

It appears that today, as told by my weary feet, that my history here has come quite a long way already: traversing a cobblestone crossing.