I was seriously squashed on the bus from Madgao to Panjim, by a big, fat man whose shoulders pinned half of me to the back of the seat. I was amazed to find that I had not changed shape when we arrived, or indeed suffered any lasting damage.
Augustinian friars arrived in Goa in 1572 and built a small monastery on the Holy Hill, at present day Old Goa. From this small beginning grew an enormous monastery, three stories high, with a tower, two large stone staircases, cloisters, corridors, pillars, galleries, halls with numerous rooms, a refectory, a guest house, an infirmary; vast dormitories and numerous cells. The monastery was built out of the same black larval stone that was used to build the cathedrals. This was then covered with plaster, inside and outside. Vestiges of blue, white and yellow Portuguese tiles remain in places, as do occasional traces of carved stucco floral designs. This and several large cathedrals marked the centre of the Portuguese capital of Goa, a large, thriving commercial city that rivaled Paris and Rome at the time.
Eventually the Portuguese were forced to move their capital to present day Panaji (Panjim), abandoning the old city, which disintegrated completely, leaving only the ruins of the massive monastery and the old cathedrals. The rest was reclaimed by the jungle, which grew up quickly in the tropical heat.
I had read about the cathedrals in the jungle and was curious to see them. Imagine my surprise (even disappointment) when I got out of the bus to see a big white cathedral on one side of the road, surrounded by a vast expanse of rather dessicated lawns with a fancy white stone perimeter wall. On the other side of the road was a black cathedral - black because it had not yet been plastered and painted white, like its sister opposite. It was similarly surrounded by lawns, trees and pathways lined with neatly clipped box hedges. To add to the well maintained effect, between the white walls and the road there were pavements with neat edges - something you never see in India, not even in Goa - and an avenue of palm trees along the stretch of road between the two cathedrals. There was even a row of neatly parked cars.
I went in search of the ruins of the Augustinian monastery. The Archaeological Survey of India had been at work here, carrying out "scientific clearance' of the ruins since 1998. They had removed all the invading jungle and taken out pieces of carved stone, which lay neatly arranged in rows in a field outside the ruins.
A lot of money has been spent on the cathedrals, which are now a major pilgrimage site. They are large, imposing and to my mind, ugly, built to impress.
I caught a bus back to Panaji (Panjim) and went to eat fish in a riverside restaurant. I walked about a bit in old Panjim, whose small, one story houses are as delightful and the cathedrals are not. Much of Panjim has succumbed to the great God concrete, but there are still little streets with old houses with their ornate balconies and curved windows and doors and tiled roofs. The bus back to Benaulim was more crowded than any I have ever been in. It was a struggle to get through the crowd thonging the corridor of the bus to get to the entrance and I was not sure that I would get there in time to get off. But the bus waited. I arrived, sweat pouring down my face in rivulets.
Augustinian friars arrived in Goa in 1572 and built a small monastery on the Holy Hill, at present day Old Goa. From this small beginning grew an enormous monastery, three stories high, with a tower, two large stone staircases, cloisters, corridors, pillars, galleries, halls with numerous rooms, a refectory, a guest house, an infirmary; vast dormitories and numerous cells. The monastery was built out of the same black larval stone that was used to build the cathedrals. This was then covered with plaster, inside and outside. Vestiges of blue, white and yellow Portuguese tiles remain in places, as do occasional traces of carved stucco floral designs. This and several large cathedrals marked the centre of the Portuguese capital of Goa, a large, thriving commercial city that rivaled Paris and Rome at the time.
Eventually the Portuguese were forced to move their capital to present day Panaji (Panjim), abandoning the old city, which disintegrated completely, leaving only the ruins of the massive monastery and the old cathedrals. The rest was reclaimed by the jungle, which grew up quickly in the tropical heat.
I had read about the cathedrals in the jungle and was curious to see them. Imagine my surprise (even disappointment) when I got out of the bus to see a big white cathedral on one side of the road, surrounded by a vast expanse of rather dessicated lawns with a fancy white stone perimeter wall. On the other side of the road was a black cathedral - black because it had not yet been plastered and painted white, like its sister opposite. It was similarly surrounded by lawns, trees and pathways lined with neatly clipped box hedges. To add to the well maintained effect, between the white walls and the road there were pavements with neat edges - something you never see in India, not even in Goa - and an avenue of palm trees along the stretch of road between the two cathedrals. There was even a row of neatly parked cars.
I went in search of the ruins of the Augustinian monastery. The Archaeological Survey of India had been at work here, carrying out "scientific clearance' of the ruins since 1998. They had removed all the invading jungle and taken out pieces of carved stone, which lay neatly arranged in rows in a field outside the ruins.
A lot of money has been spent on the cathedrals, which are now a major pilgrimage site. They are large, imposing and to my mind, ugly, built to impress.
I caught a bus back to Panaji (Panjim) and went to eat fish in a riverside restaurant. I walked about a bit in old Panjim, whose small, one story houses are as delightful and the cathedrals are not. Much of Panjim has succumbed to the great God concrete, but there are still little streets with old houses with their ornate balconies and curved windows and doors and tiled roofs. The bus back to Benaulim was more crowded than any I have ever been in. It was a struggle to get through the crowd thonging the corridor of the bus to get to the entrance and I was not sure that I would get there in time to get off. But the bus waited. I arrived, sweat pouring down my face in rivulets.
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