Up A Hill

Seeing, Testing and Eating, In Coimbra

A young woman, probably a student, on a street up the hill in Coimbra

Climbing Coimbra

High atop the old city of Coimbra, an ancient place still surrounded by a stone wall, is the University of Coimbra, perhaps the top institution of higher education in Portugal.

Its campus is mostly a place of vaguely art-deco buildings laid out and constructed in the 1950s. It was a project under the government of António de Oliveira Salazar, then the dictator of the country. He called his government “the Estado Novo,” the New State.

For a dictator, Salazar had an unusual background: he was an academic, an economist by training. And actually had been a professor at Coimbra. Modernizing the university was no doubt a priority of his.

I think his Estado Novo did a good job. The place looks and feel like a modern university. Its buildings and assembly felt like Rockefeller Center in Manhattan, including dramatic large murals in the lobbies of many of the buildings.

But I have to wonder just what was torn down. The original university of Coimbra dates back to the 13th century. And its home had been the palace of the king, who gave it to the university after the capital moved to Lisbon. Coimbra had been the capital of Portugal for several centuries, and several kings are buried in Coimbra.

Although I haven’t studied what I would call this urban renewal project, the top of Coimbra must have been a place of tiny medieval streets with ancient buildings. Much or most of that is gone. The university did keep some of the old buildings, including I believe one with a giant courtyard that may have been the core of the old palace. That’s good.

I was in the city to take my level A2 Portuguese exam. It went . . . it’s hard to say. One part was tougher than I expected. I find out in mid July how I did.

I took the exam in one of the modern buildings, the Facultad de Letras, which is basically the Humanities school. Before and after my hours of testing, I wandered down the tiny, medieval streets where students live. The streets are so steep, that not many tourists make it up to them - all the better for me. Coimbra had been on my list. I arrived two days early to be sure I had enough time to see it. I felt I eventually got to know it pretty well. And it’s funny how, at least for me, I can never really get a sense of a place until I’ve been there, no matter how much I’ve read about it beforehand. With Coimbra, I did not understand until I got there that it is a city on a hill, and that defines it.

The humanities building at the University of Coimbra, the Facultad de Letras.

The old city consists of two parts. There is the walled city on the steep hill, which includes the university. And then there are the streets and buildings around the walls, many of which are almost as old as those inside the walls. The major streets though are wider and more pleasant for strolling.

I was reminded of where we lived in Prague - the Nové Město, or New Town. It was called the New Town, even though it was founded in the 1400s. But back then, it was the new town, because it was built outside the walled city of Prague, which which dates to around the year 1000. So a “new” city can be very old indeed.

The newer old parts of Coimbra at the base of the hill are still quite historic, and they are relatively flat. I suspected that many tourists stay down there and don’t venture too far inside the walled city: those streets are just too damn steep. The tourist shops and restaurants fade away entirely as you walk up toward the university. In a way, that is a good thing—it means the university doesn’t compete with tourists for space.

The city and the university mix the modern, the medieval - and the ancient.

Near the building where I took the exam, at the top of the hill that holds the city, I was surprised to run across a Roman aqueduct. I had never even heard it mentioned. So beside the 1950s-era academic buildings, and the 12th or 15th-century medieval structures, stands a Roman aqueduct—perhaps from the 1st century BC. This is one of the things I love about Europe: so many layers of history, all still present. People just accept this.

I couldn’t even find a sign for the aqueduct. I asked an intelligent-looking woman walking by—in Portuguese—“What’s that?” and she replied casually, “Oh, that’s the Roman aqueduct.”

A random Roman aqueduct in Coimbra, by the University

Tummy Time: Sashimi and Serendipity

Another bright spot in Coimbra was the best sushi meal of my life. In fact, it was one of the best meals I’ve ever had, full stop.

I discovered the restaurant by accident. When I first arrived to my rooming house inside the old city, I went to the wrong door. A young man in a t-shirt was outside doing something, and redirected me. As I fumbled with the lock, he helpfully told me in Portuguese to “use the small key.” Clearly, I wasn’t the first to have trouble. Then he added that the door I’d originally tried led to a restaurant. What kind of restaurant, I asked? Sushi, he said. And then told me I could make a reservation for that night, if I liked.

It was €85 for a regular table and €105 to sit at the chef’s counter—a long table where the chefs prepared everything in front of you. I hesitated. Sushi? In Coimbra? And those were extremely high prices by Portuguese standards—probably the highest I’ve encountered in this country. Still, I said yes.

When I returned at 7:30 p.m. for the earliest seating (the Portuguese eat late), I found that my previously unkempt young man was now dressed sharply in all black, elegant and poised. He would be my waiter.

What followed was a tasting menu of about 15 small courses, each one excellent. The chef did something I’d long believed possible but never seen: he used Portuguese fish, which is amazing, fresh and diverse, to make sushi and sashimi. And he did so with creativity and precision. The flavors were clean, the textures surprising, and the presentation consistently beautiful. Some dishes included raw meat alongside the raw fish. Two dessert courses included four different sweets. Every single bite was thoughtful and deliberate. It was a revelation.

Here is a link to the restaurant, called MA, or rather its Michelin mention. And here are a few pictures. If any of you make it there, let me know!

One interesting aspect of MA is that it calls itself a “speakeasy” restaurant. There is no sign out front. You have to knock.