Vestiges of Memory: Portuguese Azulejos Now in Bohol
In August of 1979, I stepped away from graduate studies at Ohio State and set off on a backpacking trip across Europe. With a Europass in hand, I traveled solo to the UK then by train from London to Athens, where a chance encounter at the port changed the course of that journey and my life. There I met Sofia, a young Portuguese traveler bound for Mykonos. We became fast friends, and over three weeks of shared adventures she planted the seed: “Go to Portugal. Meet my family. See what you might do there.” (Sofia was working as an au pair in London, but advised me to visit her parents, which I did, and who graciously took me in for several months.)
By December of that same year I had left graduate school and the USA behind, carrying with me my experience teaching Russian and a desire to live and work abroad. England was my first stop, but by early 1980 Portugal became my home for the next two and a half years. I rooted in 'Lisboa' and started tutoring English, while I also traveled the country, learning the language and culture, absorbing the country's rhythms, its history and traditions.
It was during a visit to Coimbra, the country's capital until the 13th century and a cultural hub, that I found the blue-and-white tile among the photos below. In an amazing circumstance of luck, while I was staying in a rustic inn near an old building demolition site, I spotted a fragment of history among the rubble: a broken tile with its orange tree motif still vivid despite cracks and chips. This was no simple decoration — it was an antique azulejo, and from what I learned from an expert, likely from the mid 18th century. It might have once been part of a grand wall panel. Salvaging it felt like rescuing a piece of Coimbra's architectural soul.
Some time later, in a shop in Lisbon that promised vintage and antique wares, I acquired the floral tiles shared in this post. From the nature of the colour palette and the brushwork, these were probably hand‑painted in the late 18th to early 19th century, rustic and imperfect, yet alive with tradition. Their designs carry forward centuries of Portuguese ceramic artistry, classic objects that embody continuity with designs refined over time.
Together, this small set of tiles tells a layered story. The Coimbra fragment speaks of endurance, survival, and the persistence of beauty through ruin. The floral tiles -- including two that I have added to the cornerstone of a bamboo shed recently built on my property -- illustrate growth, natural development, and the artisans’ ongoing dialogue with heritage. Side by side, they remind us that legacy is not only preserved in intact monuments but also in fragments and reinterpretations. My own journey — from Ohio to Athens, from Sofia’s invitation to Portugal, from rubble to rescued tile, and now around the world to 40 years in Asia — mirrors the same themes: creative initiation, continuity, and stories carried forward.
In Bohol, these azulejos rest far from their Portuguese origins, yet they remain vessels of heritage and memory. They are bridges across time and place, reminders that even fragments of embossed blossoms and fruit can speak of legacy, resilience, and the enduring beauty of cultural tradition.
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