Today we set out to find a castle. Castelo Sao Jorge casts a shadow over Lisbon. It is only a few blocks from our apartment (supposedly). Yet we have been in town for several days and have yet to see its walls except from afar. And in those instances it seems very, very far away.

An alley leads us to a doggie daycare drop off. Another alley takes us up a hill past a bus stop labeled Castelo. We are here and I still can’t see a castle. We enter under an arch and find ourselves in a ticket office. Cruise ship people in front of us get out of line when they realize they have to buy a ticket. I’m not sure why you would travel halfway around the world and then balk at $5.00 but what do I know?

We enter the grounds and I still don’t see a castle. I see a lovely plaza. It has dazzling views in every direction and pine trees. There are statues and a cannon. We take photos and look for landmarks across the city. I find peacocks and Glenn finds an American college basketball fan. Both are entertaining in their own way. We wander through a tunnel and up some stairs….. I found the castle.

It is large. There is a dry moat and a large gate. There are wall walks and a keep. Guard stations along the battlements beckon. I try not to think about the number of steps required to circumnavigate the walls. They are there and must be conquered.

People have lived here since the 8th century B.C. There are archeological remains in every direction. Phoenician, Carthaginian, Roman, Moorish, Celtic, Goth…an international locale throughout its history. The castle was reclaimed by Christian knights in the 2nd crusade and became a seat of the Kings of Portugal. It was here that Vasco de Gama was received after his return from Portugal ( you didn’t really think I would leave him out?).

Apart from the beautiful ruins, there is not much left of the Castelo de Sao George. We take in the views and laze away the morning. As we descend the steep streets, we are stopped by an old man paid to encourage visitors to a local wine bar. He is talkative and wants me to understand that he was a young Casanova back in the day. He describes in some detail how he learned English and the effect he feels it had on American tourists. We make our escape before his story gets any worse.

Se cathedral beckons. Built in 1147, it is the oldest church in the city. We pay a small fee to visit the museum spaces and immediately have to climb several fights of stairs. Our knees are already numb from the Castelo, so it doesn’t phase us.

At the top of the stairs we are able to visit an outdoor balcony (where a bishop was tossed to his death for supposedly colluding with Spain). Once inside we encounter a spectacular rose window. Jesus and the apostles glimmer in brightly colored glass. We also get an aerial view of the interior of the church in all its glory.

We see thrones used by the Patriarch of Lisbon and relics of Saints. We wonder how many fingers St. Vincent actually had since every urn we have encountered across the city supposedly contains a knuckle.

There is silver aplenty. Candlesticks and reliquaries on endless display. The wealth locked away in these rooms is staggering and yet probably only a fraction of what was once here. Even as some sought to feed the poor, others in the Church amassed wealth and power. It is a dangerous thing when Church leaders confuse politics and religion.

In spite of the questions about power and greed, I love these spaces. These massive cathedrals remind me that I am small in the presence of a beautiful and almighty God. I can feel the whisper of the Holy Spirit in the tranquil spaces and the echo of marble. The grandeur is inspiring. The silence is holy.

Each side chapel brings many questions. Who is the knight with the dog? Who is Saint Roche and why is he always baring his upper thigh? Why does Jesus look like such a creepy baby in all medieval art? St. Anne, St. Sebastian and St Vincent all make appearances. But the most beloved saint is clearly Saint Anthony, a local boy born just up the street.

We circle the altar and visit each side chapel and crypt. Near the door, we find a sacristy glittering with gold. Green silk robes and golden mitres await clergymen. In the main chapel, people pause in prayer. I fish some coins out of my bag to leave with the begging old woman I noticed on the way in. She smiles and I say a prayer to ask for God’s blessing on both of us. Castles and cathedrals from centuries ago have touched my imagination, but I am very thankful for my present reality.