Senorita Eva and Lisboa

Tauhid Nur Azhar

Her name is Eva, and although she has a background in information technology education, she is actively involved in the field of literacy as a skilled writer. Her status as a diaspora in the land of matadors has never diminished her enthusiasm for contributing to the world of Indonesian literature.

Together with her husband, who is currently involved in the business of acquiring emerging high-tech companies in Europe and its surroundings, Eva is still intensively involved in the world of writing in her homeland. Of course, distance is no longer a problem, is it? The biggest obstacle lies in the personal aspect, where feelings of reluctance, laziness, or boredom can often become reasons for not doing something.

Thanks to Eva, I was reminded of my own stories of adventure in the blue continent of Europe. A long time ago, as a child of a government official whose achievements were appreciated by the Minister, my father received a reward to pursue his master’s degree at a university with a major in hydrology that was considered not only prestigious but also excellent.

My father received a scholarship to study at TU Delft in the Netherlands. As a result, somehow, because I was diagnosed with a serious illness by my grandmother, a professor of medicine, as a disease called malarindu, I eventually followed my father to the Netherlands. I was a elementary school student who went to the Netherlands with the assumption that the Netherlands was not much farther than Surabaya, which I often visited by taking the Mutiara Selatan train with a diesel hydraulic locomotive, BB 301 or 302, the champion locomotive of its time.

Because of that childhood experience, I became familiar with Europe, its people, culture, and complex historical data, which is very old. But I like it.

Until one day, when Ian, Eva’s husband, took a sabbatical and spent several weeks in our homeland, I had the opportunity to discuss with them, just to catch up a bit, because in fact, we could also communicate via WhatsApp every day. At the end of their visit to our beloved homeland, I gave Eva an epic novel that I thought was written by Zaky Yamani with great skill. The combination of classical stories based on medieval history, mystical and semi-magical elements, and authentic historical data, was beautifully crafted and presented to the reader’s mind.

The choice of words was precise, the plot flowed smoothly, and the historical facts presented were able to educate without making the reader feel like they were being taught. The title of the “antique” book was The Impossible Journey of Samiam from Lisboa. Samiam, who was of Javanese descent, kept a map of the Javanese people, and eventually had the opportunity to visit the land of Java, as well as the islands of Nusantara, including Maluku and Banda, where his ancestors originally came from.

Thanks to Samiam and his Javanese map, Eva became more interested in the details of the history of Lisboa or Lisabon, which turned out to be one of the cities that her husband, Ian, had visited.

Because of Eva’s share, I was reminded of the fragments of my travels and adventures in the Blue Continent. From the northern part, the middle, to the border with the Asian continent, which is separated by the Bosphorus Strait.

One of the stories that came back to the theater of my mind was about my short trips to the old town areas of various European cities, which are mostly very old.

In my dream, provoked by Senorita Eva, a story emerged…

Lisbon in winter feels different; the cold air pierces and thick fog covers the stone streets of Alfama, one of the oldest districts in the city. The narrow alleys seem to invite anyone who passes through to explore the labyrinth of time, entering the maze filled with antique buildings and balconies adorned with hanging plants. Along the way, the distinctive aroma of bakeries baking pastéis de nata, a traditional Portuguese pastry that is warm and sweet, fills the air, reminding me of the long tradition that lives in the daily life of this city.

On my first morning, I visited the Belem Tower, a cultural and historical landmark on the banks of the Tagus River. This 16th-century building was once the departure point for explorers, and now stands as a reminder of Portugal’s past glory. From the top of the tower, my gaze sweeps over the sparkling waters of the Tagus, cold and quiet in winter. It was here that hopeful sailors set off towards the Far East, carrying dreams of spice wealth from the Indonesian archipelago.

A guide who accompanied me explained that Vasco da Gama set off from this point for his first expedition in 1497, opening the sea route to India. Behind the frozen air and fog that shrouds the city, I seemed to feel the anxiety and excitement that may have filled the hearts of sailors at that time, leaving behind everything they knew for a strange world.

From the Belem Tower, I continued my journey to the Praça do Comércio, the largest square in the center of Lisbon, which was once the hub of trade. It was here that spices from the East, gold from Africa, and other precious goods were traded. The square, which faces the Tagus River, is surrounded by bright yellow buildings that bring warmth in the midst of the cold winter weather.

As I walked along the square, I felt how this place is filled with a long history. In the 16th century, the Praça do Comércio was a witness to thousands of transactions between local and foreign merchants. Looking at the bustling modern market that now surrounds it, I imagined a similar atmosphere that may have occurred in the past — merchants with various languages, haggling over the prices of spices, metals, and fabrics from different parts of the world.

The sky grew darker as I arrived at the Royal Palace. A light rain began to fall, spreading the aroma of wet earth that evoked nostalgia. I entered the palace, where the temperature was warmer, but the grandeur of the building hinted at the firmness of a king who once ruled over vast lands and seas.

Inside the exhibition room filled with antique objects, my eyes fell on an old map. The map, drawn with ink, showed the Portuguese navigation route that stretched far to the East, reaching Malacca and the Maluku Islands. My right hand reached out involuntarily to touch the glass that protected the map, as if wanting to delve into the journey that was etched on it.

“In 1511, Alfonso de Albuquerque conquered Malacca,” the guide’s voice echoed again. “By controlling Malacca, they controlled the spice trade route. From there, they went to the Indonesian archipelago, making agreements with local kings in Maluku to control the trade of cloves and nutmeg.”

My eyes were fixed on the image of a small ship sailing towards the Indonesian archipelago. I wondered about the sultans in Maluku who met with foreigners who brought languages and intentions that they did not fully understand. Did the sultans feel the tension brought by the newcomers? Or did they perhaps hope that this new connection could bring wealth and power?

The National Museum of Ancient Art or Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga was my next stop. The museum houses various important artifacts from the golden age of Portugal, including paintings, maps, and jewelry. One of the most interesting collections is the Panel São Vicente, which depicts the various layers of Lisbon society at that time, including explorers, kings, and ordinary citizens, all of whom were part of a larger network of global trade.

Here, I also saw works of art that reflected the influence of Asian culture on the Portuguese after they arrived in the Indonesian archipelago. There was a jewelry box adorned with carvings of cloves and pepper, symbols of the wealth desired by every European kingdom. Looking at these artifacts, I could feel how spices were not only considered commodities, but also valuable objects that became symbols of status and luxury.

To experience the spice trail directly, I visited the Campo de Ourique market, a lively and bustling modern market. The market was filled with local vendors selling various foods, drinks, and kitchen ingredients that often used spices as the main seasoning. I ordered a plate of bacalhau com natas, a cod dish cooked with cream and sprinkled with a little nutmeg, reminding me of how spices from the East, such as nutmeg and cloves, had become part of local cuisine.

Here, the market felt warmer, perhaps because of the presence of people who spoke with loud voices and warm smiles, offering products that were made with a sense of history. The food served in modern form reminded me that the legacy of the Indonesian archipelago still lives on in the flavors of Lisbon, becoming part of their culinary tradition that dates back centuries.

As the sun set, I returned to Alfama. In this old district, the sound of fado music echoed faintly from a small café. Fado, the folk music of Portugal that is full of longing and sadness, resonated in the narrow alleys and centuries-old buildings. I stopped in front of the café, letting myself be carried away by the melancholic and emotional melody. The fado singers seemed to tell stories of loss, of longing for what is far away — feelings that may have also been felt by Portuguese sailors who left their homeland for spices across the ocean.

In Alfama, I felt like I was between the present and the past. Every corner of the street brought shadows of sailors who went and never returned, or of families who waited with hope. Perhaps this is why I felt so touched by the sound of fado — because in it, there is the soul of Lisbon that holds stories of exploration, longing, and loss.

1497, Vasco da Gama sailed to India, opening the European-Asian Spice Route. 1511, Don Alfonso de Albuquerque conquered Malacca, opening the spice trade route from the Indonesian archipelago. 1512–1513 — the Portuguese first arrived in Maluku, forming an alliance with the Sultan of Ternate and Tidore. 1521, the conflict between Spain and Portugal over the spice islands ended with a treaty. 1602, the Dutch East India Company was formed, taking over Portuguese dominance in the Indonesian archipelago.

On my last night in Lisbon, I returned to the banks of the Tagus River, gazing at the city lights that reflected in the dark, rippling water. The city, which was once the gateway to a new world, now rested in peace, holding memories of great journeys that had changed the world. I stood in silence, feeling connected to a history that had long passed, but still lived on in every detail of the city — in the stone streets of Alfama, in the bustle of Praça do Comércio, in the solidity of the Belem Tower, and in the fado music that was full of memories.

Lisbon left a deep impression on my heart, not only as a historic city, but as a place where I witnessed the red thread that connected two cultures and two continents in the story of spices. A journey that not only brought knowledge, but also a sense of gratitude because I realized that in every bite of food, in every melody of music, in every architecture of the city, there were traces of the Indonesian archipelago, which made me a part of a great and unforgettable story.

The loud meowing of two cats fighting over a piece of chicken bone belonging to Ny Suharti, startled me and woke me up. It turned out that after I fully woke up, this was Cikapundung, not Tagus. And the tower that was near me as I slept was the PDAM water tower, not Belem.