Saturday 13 July 2019
I signed off yesterday’s post saying I’d stay in Bragança and see what else it had to offer. The answer is, very little.
I couldn’t understand how I’d missed the cathedral on the map, until I found it.
It was barely started before it was abandoned, so why not put a toilet on the archeological remains?
As I looked around a bit more, the town reminded me of a Welsh valley town where cultural institutions and activities had been parachuted into poor communities but then neglected. Unkempt, like the festival was twenty years ago. All a bit sad.
I did stumble on one wonderfully idiosyncratic contribution to local joy not listed in any of the tourist materials.
Someone had built world landmarks in their front garden.
Westminster is in there, how many others do you recognise?
And as for the figures; made me think of a serial killer’s Legoland, though that’s entirely unfair. Someone has put a huge amount of work into entertaining passers by, so good on them.
The forecast storms hit on time and with great gusto, wave after wave for a good four hours, dissipating the heat. I look forward to catching up on the sleep I’ve missed over recent days.
I caught up on my blogs then, when the storms had cleared, ventured up the hill to the castle, called by the sound of drumming. A band were playing traditional pipe and drum tunes.
Nearby, a 15th century meeting room was open so I popped in.
The evening sun was doing its thing,
very much the golden hour,
bringing the stormy day to a quiet close.