Thirty minutes in Viana - part I

In Viana… my city here in Portugal…

My friend Daniel (Danilo), who is in Rome now – studying hard canonic law – missing home and his pastoral work… as he is a devoted priest.
We had a lot to chat – our theologies, our search for God… he’s my friend and my councilor – and we laugh and joked because that is how serious things are dealt among us…


As the square is becoming full with people – we stare at the building with the caravel of the fifth empire, the cross of the order of Christ over the coat of arms of the nation and the armillar sphere… the people and the old traditions right in front of us… the new that never is, ever echoing the old that never was…


The people… the young and the old around the music of ages, the song of tradition… we are “Minhotos”, our colors red, black and white… gold in our hearts


As the spirit desperately searches for the water of life the tired body is well fed by those women with many skirts and laughing faces marked by the work of the sun…

Where Daniel? Where can He be? In the people, maybe? In the people?...

The afternoon starts to go dim, and I move towards the river side. The Letes as the Romans called it – the river when we forgot what we were if we dared to cross it… was Brutus who had to defy the legends of old and keep advancing towards the celt’s heart – the altars of Lhugh. Now the River is called “Lima”, as the capital of the Gallician of old is called – "Lugo". The echoes persist, the names change… but maybe not so much.
The garden, the flowers and the mark of discoveries from Portuguese service to the One world in old times…

As the gardens near the “Marina” keep going, a nice music place decorates the view for the wanderer… the …armilar sphere and the dove on it’s top. The five circles interlaced with spirit of the new world. Lets hope so… lets hope

Crossing a little iron bridge we may see the marina of Viana – with boats of recreation in the main line and the old bridge of the train in the bottom…

As the Sun gently moves to it’s ending step in this journey, we may see the dome of Santaluzia's basilic on the top of the hill and the city at it’s feet.

On the marina – parents play with their children… or are the children who play with their dormant parents?

World of contrasts, realm of appearances, dream of a summer’s eve…