tuesday 20 december 1977
LISBOA
1320. lisboa in the rain. no more attractive than any other city in the rain. take the luggage to the station. have a coffee. decide to ride on a tram. a 24 gives a circular ride with a different view of lisboa then ends at largo do carmo. recognition. the ruined carmelite church. the archaeological museum. the outdoor display pleasant even in the drizzle. the interior musty to discomfort. probably the worst museum I have ever visited. the old chapels used as display salons but the exhibits exhibited in crowded cases with inadequate identification. pigeon droppings accumulating on case tops to a measureable depth. skulls from peru. the hair still in position. two mummified corpses. the legs still bound in foetal position. the case labels eaten away by vermin. a room of books. crowded. overcrowded into cases. a handsome table for savants to enclose. flint. microliths. arrow heads. pottery. as though set out but with an interrupted process. holy sculptures. a sarcophagus or two. some roman inscriptions.
.. change and decay in all around I see ..
outside. the next building guarded by a sentry with drawn sword.
lunch compensates for the mustiness of the museum. a typical portuguese dish. ‘hand of little cow’. turns out to be a sort of calves foot stew. with beans. very rich. very filling.
francis cameron, temporary vagabond
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