Three images: a castle on a hill, a lamppost beneath my cheap hotel room in the early November evening illuminating a trench-coated man within its murky glow, a piazza with half a boy on a wooden platform on wheels.
I knew little of the history of the castle of Sao Jorge, atop the hill sheltering Lisbon’s old city. But it had been there, in some form, in 718 when the Islamic armies conquered the whole of the Iberian Peninsula, except for some white-capped scraps of Atlantic coastline in the north. It had been there in 1147 during the Second Crusade, when the crusaders’ Siege of Lisbon had been their only military success, taking the castle from the Moors for Christian Europe. It had been there in 1255, heavily fortified against Muslim attempts to retake it, when Lisbon became the capital of the Kingdom. It had been there between 1373 and 1375 when the new wall with its seventy-seven towers replaced the old Moorish wall. It had been there in 1498, when King Manuel II welcomed to the Royal palace the explorer, Vasco da Gama, discoverer of the maritime route to India.
And it had been there, too, in 1755 for the Lisbon earthquake, about which I was thinking now, looking at the spectacular view of the city below from the barbican, the low wall built around medieval fortifications to prevent siege engines from attacking the main walls. Lisbon looked peaceful, its red-tiled roofs and white houses in the distance slumbering in the
Article source: http://www.counterpunch.org/2016/02/26/lisbon-1964-scent-of-the-future/
