A little over a week ago, I crossed seven sacred thresholds in Rome - each one a doorway into silence, mercy, and mystery. Conceived by St. Philip Neri in the 16th century, this Seven Churches pilgrimage is one of the oldest Roman traditions. I walked about 15 km (9 miles) in 3 days across the city, passing through the Appian Way countryside, the catacombs, and some of Rome's best basilicas.
Every 25 years, the Roman Catholic Church declares a Jubilee Year, marked by renewal, mercy, and pilgrimage which the faithful are encouraged to undertake to acquire the Jubilee indulgence. The Jubilee Year has origins in the Old Testament. Rooted in Leviticus 25, the Jubilee Year in ancient Israel, occurring every fifty years, was a sacred time marked by the release of debts, liberation of slaves, and restoration of land - a divine reset for society.
In the New Testament, Jesus directly connects Isaiah 61:1-2 to His mission in Luke 4:18-19, when He reads from the scroll in the synagogue at Nazareth:
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, to preach the acceptable year of the Lord.”(Luke 4:18–19; cf. Isaiah 61:1–2)
Immediately after reading, Jesus declares: “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.”(Luke 4:21)
This moment marks His public announcement of His messianic identity and mission. Jesus presents Himself as He who fulfils the ancient Jubilee, having come to "preach the acceptable year of the Lord,” a time of grace, restoration, and liberation.
You may be wondering: What is a Jubilee indulgence?
It’s a gift of grace: The Church offers it to help people wipe away the spiritual consequences (called temporal punishment) of past sins that have already been forgiven.
Not a “get out of jail free” card: It doesn't replace confession or repentance - rather, it's like clearing the leftover emotional or spiritual mess after you’ve said “I’m sorry” and truly meant it.
To obtain a Jubilee indulgence, believers go on a sacred pilgrimage to Rome to walk to designated sacred Jubilee sites and walk through the Holy Door, take part in the Holy Mass and liturgical celebrations in any of the four Major Papal Basilicas of Rome, participate in Eucharistic adoration or meditation, pray for the Pope's intentions, and perform acts of mercy or charity. The crossing of the threshold of a Holy Door signifies that a pilgrim allows him or herself to be guided by Jesus and thus find their salvation.
Here's a preview of the Seven Churches pilgrimage I accomplished recently in Rome:
I invite you to watch this trailer as an introduction to my full journey.
Two things struck me in this walking pilgrimage:
1. Silence is a virtue. We need it for prayer. I used the word 'detoxifying' before when I visited Santo Domingo de Silos in 2014. Silence is detoxifying - stepping away from the daily rhythms of life, unplugging from the noise and chaos, and restoring our sense of faith in God. It's only in Silence that we can truly contemplate, discern, and hear God's whisper. 1 Kings 19:12 (NIV) says, "After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper." God reveals Himself to Elijah (and us) not in dramatic displays of power but sometimes in subtle ways.
2. Divine revelation comes in Silence. In Silence, I hear that God loves each and everyone of us SO MUCH. Everything points to the LOVE of our Triune God. Jesus Christ's coming into our world, His suffering and death on the Cross, and His resurrection - they're acts of purposeful love. He didn't suffer for naught or vanity. It's to save us. It's the same profound love that I had connected to in Menlo Park's Vallombrosa eons ago, and I'm getting reacquainted to this mysterious love on this pilgrimage. He grants us consolation in this love to help us through difficult times. This love is available to all people no matter who they are: good, bad, easy, hard, young, old.... todos! tous! everyone!
Where love appears, there's harmony, smiles, gratitude, gentleness... but where it lacks, there's hostility, rudeness, and aggression (even passive aggressiveness).
I see with clarity now what Pope Francis had long promoted - love, joy, peace, and a heart for the poor. Both the late Pope Francis and our current Pope Leo XIV have prayed often for the victims of conflicts. Peace remains one of the Pope's deepest intentions. Let us all join in prayer for Peace -- in Gaza, Ukraine, along the Cambodia-Thailand border, and wherever war continues to blow up.
I feel what our Lord Jesus Christ pins for - a yearning for people to love Him and to have love for one another, for peace.
As pilgrims of hope, in this Jubilee Year of Hope, we choose NOT to focus on the dark and tragic events around us, but to pay attention to all the good in the world. In this pilgrimage, the good can be seen in smiling nuns who greet you, the nodding affirmation of a priest who hears your confession, the beauty of historic Roman architecture that stands the test of time, the meaningful encounters you meet with fellow pilgrims, and the renewals received through the Holy Spirit. We choose to bring our salt and light into this world, to bring out goodness and share the fruit of the Spirit in the face of so much evil, violence, and suffering. The reason for our Hope is in the Word of God, the Logos, in Jesus Christ.
I encourage you dear reader to go into a quiet place to contemplate, pray, and get close to the love of Jesus Christ. Invite Him into your life.
Let me know if you have any questions or comments - like if you wish for me to elaborate on my experience in Vallombrosa, perhaps?
May every threshold you cross stir the soul and awaken the Spirit within.
In a future post, I'll take you through my first day of walking - from the majestic St. Peter's Basilica to the historic St. Paul Outside the Walls, with stops and quiet reflections along the way.
Next month, I'll be heading to Rome to attend the Jubilee of Digital Missionaries and Catholic Influencers. This pilgrimage offers the rare grace of passing through the Holy Door (Porta Sancta) at St. Peter's Basilica - opened only once every 25 years in a Jubilee year. The theme of the 2025 Jubilee, as declared by Pope Francis, is "Pilgrims of Hope."
Every Jubilee is a sacred call to spiritual renewal, reconciliation, and pilgrimage - a timely invitation to re-center my life, place God first, and surrender everything into His hands.
When I registered for the Digital Missionaries conference, I was asked to respond to several questions - not simple yes-or-no inquiries, but ones that prompted deep reflection.
In this post, I'd like to share how I became a Roman Catholic - spiritually, culturally, and personally.
A Search for Home: Why I Became Catholic
Let me begin with my personal background. Although I was raised in an unreligious family, my father - who attended a Catholic boys' school - naturally became my first Catholic influencer, even though he himself was never baptized. Of all the movies he brought my brother and me to see, the one I most vividly remember watching as a little girl was Jesus of Nazareth. Strange, isn't it?
My parents enrolled me in a Catholic girls' school for two years in Malaysia. It was there that my curiosity about Catholicism was first sparked - by angels and saints, and of course, by Jesus. I would often slip away into the school chapel. No one taught me to pray, but I instinctively knew I could speak to God. What troubles did I carry as a 7- or 8-year-old? I was a lazy student ~ I simply disliked studying. As exams approached, I feared failure. So, I went to the chapel to pray. Of course, I failed. But that never discouraged me from praying. I always knew I could talk to God. And even when my prayers weren't answered, somehow, that was okay.
Years later, after moving to Singapore, a woman approached me on the bus and started talking about church. I took her contact details and promised to join her that Sunday. When my father found out, he wouldn't let me - a minor - go out with a stranger. Instead, he personally brought me to a Catholic church. From then on, we occasionally attended Mass together, though we remained unbaptized. I remember standing in the back during Communion, watching as others lined up, wishing I could join them. But Dad said I couldn't. And so we waited quietly until Mass ended.
Over time, I began attending Mass on my own or with friends. Gradually, I came to know the rhythm of the Catholic liturgy - its rituals, prayers, and silences - even though I was still uninitiated.
Looking back, I realize how often Roman Catholics gently surrounded me. In junior college in Singapore, a close friend and I attended novenas every Saturday after our half-day classes, followed by lunch at a food court - our two-year routine. In college in the U.S., two Korean friends took me to Mass at the Newman Center in Lexington, Kentucky. I wouldn't have gone otherwise. At work, I grew close with my Singaporean manager, also Catholic - he even gifted me a Bible. During a season of personal struggle, I joined the Catholic Community at Stanford and found positive influences and comfort in the people there. Later, in the Netherlands during my MBA studies, a Colombian friend and I attended the only English Vigil Mass held in the crypt of the Onze Lieve Vrouwe Basiliek.
At every one of those Masses, I observed but never partook of the Eucharist. Eventually, I discovered that I could approach the priest for a blessing by crossing my arms across my chest. I tried this once on Easter Island, but the priest didn't recognize the gesture. We stood awkwardly for a moment until I stepped aside. I suppose that form of blessing wasn't practiced there.
Because of my itinerant nature, my fear of commitment, or perhaps my own pride, I kept postponing baptism. I knew I could find peace in church, yet I didn't feel ready to dedicate myself fully.
That changed in the summer of 2010. I had settled in Boston and, after all my moving, felt it was time to stop wandering. I began RCIA (the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults) in Boston and later transferred to St. Clare Parish in Santa Clara, California, in the Diocese of San Jose. There, at the Easter Vigil on April 23, 2011, I was baptized into the Roman Catholic Church by Father George Aranha.
At the Altar of the World: RCIA and The Eucharist
My RCIA formation lasted about eight months. A group of eight of us gathered nearly every Tuesday evening in the rectory at St. Clare Church. Some of us were preparing for Confirmation; others, like me, for baptism. The program was lovingly led by Diane and Cathy, who guided us with patience and wisdom.
Above: Diane (left) and Cathy (right)
We learned about the mystery of the Holy Trinity - God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit - and explored the Church's seven sacraments: Baptism, Confirmation, Eucharist, Penance (or Reconciliation), Anointing of the Sick, Holy Orders, and Matrimony. These sacraments are not just rites; they are channels of grace that draw us deeper into intimacy with the Lord.
Later, we learned about the saints and their role in the Church. Saints were holy men and women who lived exemplary Christian lives and serve as models of faith and intercessors in heaven - though we do not pray to them as we pray to the Triune God. As part of our RCIA journey, we were invited to choose a Confirmation saint - someone we admired and felt a spiritual affinity with. I chose St. Francis of Assisi, whose humility, love for nature, and surrender to God resonated deeply with me.
Above left: Rite of Sending at St. Clare Church - I inscribed my name in the Book of the Elect; Above right: Rite of Election at the Cathedral Basilica of Saint Joseph in San Jose, California, with Monsignor Francis Cilia (March 14, 2011)
Even now, 14 years later, I find myself moved when witnessing the Sacrament of Confirmation. Recently, at a Confirmation Mass in Phnom Penh, I saw a young boy choose Blessed Carlo Acutis as his Confirmation saint. Knowing that Blessed Carlo Acutis will be canonized on September 7, 2025, as the first millennial saint, filled me with joy and hope for the next generation.
Of all the sacraments, it is the Eucharist that anchors my spiritual life. I can still remember the overwhelming emotion of receiving the Holy Communion for the first time following my baptism. Tears welled up in my eyes as I knelt, mindful of Christ's sacrifice on the Cross and His abiding presence in the consecrated host. My soul had been ransomed by our Good Shepherd, and I was now fed by His grace.
To this day, every time I receive the Eucharist, I feel that same sacred trembling. It is a gift too profound to articulate fully - a quiet miracle that continues to nourish, sustain, and sanctify.
Sacred Symbols, Shared Peace
What I love most about the Roman Catholic Church is her universality, fraternity, and solidarity. Everywhere I've traveled, I've found the same Mass ritual - a shared language of prayer that transcends geography. The only variation might be the local vernacular during the liturgy or homily, but the structure remains deeply familiar.
Whether in French, Spanish, Italian, Croatian, Portuguese, or even Pascuan, the Mass always unfolds in these sacred movements:
The Introductory Rites with the penitential act, Kyrie, and Gloria
The Liturgy of the Word with Scripture readings, homily, Creed, and prayers of the faithful
The Liturgy of the Eucharist, including the presentation of gifts, the Eucharistic Prayer, the Lord’s Prayer, the sign of peace, the Agnus Dei (Lamb of God), Communion, and finally,
The Concluding Rites with the final blessing and dismissal
This rhythmic flow of communal worship remains unchanged, no matter the country or continent. It’s as if I am never far from home.
Among the most poignant moments in the Mass is the sign of peace. From a warm hug in Texas to two pecks on the cheeks in Fátima, Portugal, to simple handshakes paired with "Peace be with you" in countless tongues, the gesture always feels authentic. In that moment, strangers dissolve into siblings, united in Christ. Language holds no barrier; love needs no translation.
Culturally, the Roman Catholic Church speaks through her architecture. Her cathedrals across Europe are monumental testaments to faith and imagination. Their grandeur proclaims the beauty of divine mystery - each stone and spire a silent witness to centuries of belief.
Above: On the Camino de Santiago, with Burgos Cathedral in the background - a silent sermon of stone, light, and centuries of faith.
Here’s an excerpt from my book, “Raised with Him: A Journey of Grace from Valley to Heavenly Perspectives and Realities,” that reflects this reverence:
"These beautiful yet complex cathedrals, whether they are Gothic, Renaissance, or Baroque, portray a window to the transcendent: the cruciform plan of a nave and transepts reminding us of Jesus Christ's death on the cross to redeem humanity, the towering spires stretching and reaching for the celestial city, the glorious stained glass windows illumining church members with Bible stories, the ornate sculptures of Christ, saints, seraphin, and cherubim standing by the columned interior walls as imageries of faith, the rib vault ceiling (in Gothic architecture) protecting and supporting the long church nave leading to the altar, the thick round pillars buttressing the basilica, the candles' flame burning for believers' prayers, hopes, and thanksgivings, the old air permeating the holy space and sacred ground, the adjacent peristyle cloister and manicured green lawn (sometimes with a Cypress tree growing tall and upright as a reminder to stand up for truth and righteousness) offering an ode to God's creation in nature, and the arched hall and doorways lifting our vision and spirit to a higher plane. These cathedrals were carefully and piously built with not just stones but virtuosos' heart of noble faith." (p. 99)
In these sacred spaces, I find not only beauty - but belonging.
Sacred Music and Spiritual Intellect
One of the many things that strikes me about the Roman Catholic Church is its music. I love listening to "Pange lingua gloriosi corporis mysterium," which translates to "Sing, my tongue, the mystery of the glorious body," a medieval Latin hymn composed by St. Thomas Aquinas for the Feast of Corpus Christi. Its solemn beauty reflects the reverence due to the Eucharist, drawing the soul into contemplation.
I'm also deeply drawn to Gregorian chant, especially from the monks of Santo Domingo de Silos. I was blessed to hear their sacred voices firsthand during my Camino de Santiago pilgrimage in 2014, when I detoured to Santo Domingo de Silos for a couple of nights. It was an otherworldly experience to immerse myself in their prayer services at the Church of San Sebastián de Silos.
Here's an excerpt from my book that captures that moment:
"The monastery's gentle, godly, and graceful monks clad in plain black robes were a great influence on me. I admired their holy lives of sacred devotion, discipline, and divine singing of Gregorian chant in their daily prayer services, a tradition they have kept since the 11th century.... their a cappella choral music bears witness to God and brings relief, healing, and blessings to many stressed-out people in the world. As I listened to the monks' pure, heavenly vocals echoing soft, prayerful melodies around the church's dim sanctuary, I felt blessed to be a part of their ethereal worship of our benevolent God. My internal world felt rightly ordered in Santo Domingo de Silos. Not only did I gain peace of heart and breadth, depth, and clarity of mind, but I also felt closer to God as I detoxed from stimulants on the Camino and in life." (p. 127)
Music, for me, is not just artistic expression - it’s a form of prayer that transcends words.
Equally transformative are the intellectual treasures of the Church. I've long admired the writings of the early doctors of the Church like St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Augustine of Hippo, St. John Henry Newman, and St. Catherine of Siena. Their teachings enlighten my mind and deepen my faith. St. Catherine of Siena spoke of discernment through intense self-awareness (of our sinfulness and nothingness), contrasted with the knowledge of God's grace and fullness. But even earlier, it was St. Augustine who urged us to turn inward through what he called "textured interiority."But spiritual maturity isn’t only an inward journey - it also involves cultivating the mind. As St. John Henry Newman wrote, "There is beauty in a cultivated mind."
That balance between inner growth and intellectual depth continues to shape my journey. I try to stay attuned to both ancient and modern voices. One recent piece that stirred my thoughts was “Paradox, Seeming Inconsistency, and Tension” by Fr. Ron Rolheiser - a reflection on the mystery and richness of faith that defies easy answers.
In truth, much of my spiritual and emotional growth has come from a blend of experiences:
Travel, which broadened my empathy and perspective
12-step meetings I attended in the U.S., where I learned to take personal responsibility and examine my motives
And above all, Scripture, which continues to renew my heart, mind, and soul
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” (John 1:1). That verse continues to reveal new dimensions each time I read it. When I began journaling meaningful passages, I found myself softening... transforming. Scripture is mysterious, yet honest, real, and deeply powerful.
Recent developments in the life of the Church have stirred a new kind of curiosity in me. The election of an American Pope - Pope Leo XIV on May 8, 2025 - has revived my interest in the Vatican and its inner workings. Pope Leo XIV struck me as introspective, wise, humble, and serene. Since his election, I've found myself drawn to Roma and Vatican news, something I had never paid much attention to before. As I read about the cardinals' backgrounds, I've been inspired by their multilingual abilities, rich education, and the breadth of pastoral and cultural experiences they bring to the Church.
Digital Mission, Ancient Faith
So we come to the heart of this post.
When I first created this blog, I never envisioned it as a form of mission work. Back then, terms like "digital missionary" or "content creator" weren't part of the conversation. I simply saw blogging as a hobby - a space to document my travels. But as time went on and my faith in Christ deepened, this blog became something more: a quiet outpouring of gratitude - a platform to proclaim that the Good Lord is my unfailing hope.
I’ve always enjoyed writing, photography, and travel, so this platform became a natural expression of all three. Now it feels like something sacred: a way to bring good news and publish peace (Nahum 1:15). I’ve been humbled by the kind words from readers around the world:
"Your blog is full of inspirations to travel. Congratulations."
"I love the thoroughness of your photoessays."
"THANK YOU for the beautiful pictures Janet"
"I found your blog while following my brother and sister in law's journey in Portugal. Very exciting to see so much of the world. Gives one a unique perspective. Bless you."
"You are indeed a (pretty) citizen of the world. I apreciate [sic] the detailed report you made about Porto, Portugal. You are a very sensitive and well instructed person. Next time you come to Portugal, send me an email. I will be glad to invite you for a dinner with my wife. I will show you a little more about Portuguese food. Now, I am going to look at your blog with more detail. Have a good life!"
"Sandra, I've read many a blog and "travel log" over the years and here's what I've noticed:
1. You are religious in heart, mind and soul
2. You say what's on your mind...warts and all
3. Living life in God's light is your focus.
4. You have a great sense of humor
Saludos,
Arn"
"Hello, I have just finished reading all your blog entries from Bayonne. It has taken me all afternoon. I came across your blog by google search as I still love all things Camino. Your photos are wonderful and you came across so positively, with a great philosophy and spirit. That El Acebo incident reminded me of a couple of horror nights too when I walked the Camino in the summer of 2013. Thank you so much for sharing this with the world and not keeping it private....I took a peek too at your other trips and am amazed you have managed to do so much on a modest budget. Very inspirational. Thank you again and God bless :)"
"Hi Sandra: nice to read something from you again. I am deeply touched by your sharing. You are such a practical and down to earth lady. "
"que lindas fotos...yo vivo en chile en santiago , pero vivi muchos años en Valparaiso cerro Alegre...
Saludos.Gracias por vivitar mi pais."
These comments remind me that the effort is worth it - not for recognition, but for connection.
In 2024, I began nurturing a second platform: my YouTube channel. Initially, it was just a personal archive. But as I experimented with editing and filming, I discovered how visual storytelling adds another layer of depth. From cat videos to lifestyle vlogs, I gradually invested in tools like a gimbal and a new phone to sharpen my footage and stabilize my hand.
The learning curve has been steep - editing takes time, focus, and energy I can’t always afford. Digital mission is not my full-time work. Still, every new video posted, every new subscriber gained, feels like a quiet affirmation to keep going.
While my channel doesn’t follow a single theme, I’ve curated playlists for topics I love - my cat, the Camino, Cambodia, etc. - and soon, a new one: Christianity. I know people aren’t always comfortable with religious content. But I believe it can be offered gently and authentically through glimpses of Scripture, the quiet presence of a cross, the simple joy of a life lived well in worship. Christianity isn’t boring; it’s vibrant, deep, and alive. In my own way, I hope to show that.
Authenticity matters to me, but so does reverence. I want my content to reflect beauty, dignity, and truth. I’m not here to pander to trends, but to reflect a life that glorifies God in the ordinary.
Many of my viewers are young: Gen Z and Millennials. Each group brings its own rhythms, its own spiritual hunger. It isn’t easy to reach everyone, but it’s encouraging to hear that more Millennials, especially men, are exploring traditional faiths like Catholicism. I hold hope for them, and for us.
Some of the themes closest to my heart - surrender, reconciliation, courage, stillness, gratitude, and growth - are deeply Catholic, yet universally human. If I can express those truths through a lens of beauty and faith, perhaps that’s mission enough.
May this blog and my YouTube channel be a light to reveal our Lord Jesus Christ to the young and old. And may whatever fruit comes from them be pleasing to the eyes of God.
The Jubilee in Rome: A Modern Pilgrimage
This will be my first Jubilee, though not my first pilgrimage. Like those before it, I hope this sacred journey will draw me closer to Jesus Christ and to my fellow spiritual brothers and sisters. I'm also excited to engage with other digital missionaries - sharing insights, learning new creative tools, and exploring meaningful collaborations.
This trip marks a return to Rome, but it feels entirely different from my visit in 2007. Then, I checked off the must-see tourist sites like the Colosseum, the Forum, Pantheon, and Trevi Fountain. Now my eyes are set not so much on marble and monuments, but on mercy and meaning.
I hope to walk through the Holy Door, to attend a public appearance by Pope Leo XIV, and to experience the Eternal City through the lens of devotion. I’ve mapped out a more intentional itinerary: all seven pilgrim churches of Rome, including the four major papal basilicas, each a beacon of faith through the centuries. At Saint Mary Major, one of these four, I will offer prayers in remembrance of Pope Francis.
This time, I come not only as a traveler, but as a witness; not only to see, but to seek. This pilgrimage is no longer just about place; it is about presence - of God, of others, and of my own reawakened purpose.
4. Capturing the night lights from atop the Dom Luis I bridge
5. The National Museum of Antonio Soares dos Reis
6. A bus ride to the beach (Praia dos Carneiros) and lighthouse
Well, this concludes this portion of my travel updates from Europe. When I'm settled in, I hope to do a reflection piece on what the Camino meant to me and my transition back into society. Until next time, adios, much love to you all and God bless!
Above left: Inside the Majestic Cafe; Above right: The shopping street of Rua Santa Catarina
Above right: The Bolhao Market (Mercado do Bolhao)
Above left: Teatro Sa da Bandeira; Above right: A vegetarian version of Porto's famous dish, the Francesinha (7.50 euros, with a cup of sangria)
Above left: A silhouette of the Se Cathedral; Above right: A silhouette of the Clerigos Tower (Torre dos Clerigos)
Above: A cold and windy evening walk on the upper level of Dom Luis I bridge
Above right: The 11 am Sunday Mass at the circular St. Augustine church of the Monastery of Serra do Pilar (Mosteiro da Serra do Pilar) in Gaia
Above: The National Museum of Antonio Soares dos Reis (Museu Nacional de Soares dos Reis) (Entrance fee: 5 euros per adult; 2.50 euros per student)
Above left: Um Traje de Capri (A Black Capri) by Silva Porto (1877); Above right: Colheita - Ceifeiras (Harvest - Reapers) by Silva Porto (1893)
Above left: Ilha dos Amores (Island of Love) by Jose Malhoa (1908); Above right: The medicine by Jose Malhoa
Above left: Cabeca de rapariga (Head of a girl) by Marques de Oliveira (1891); Above right: Cephalus and Procris by Marques de Oliveira (1879)
Above left: Interior (Costureiras trabalhando) (Interior (seamstresses working)) by Marques de Oliveira (1884); Above right: Viscondessa de Vinho e Almedina (The Viscountess of Vinho e Almedina) by Antonio Soares dos Reis (1882)
Above: O Desterrado (The Exile) by Antonio Soares dos Reis (1872) ~ sculpted in carrara marble
Above: The Count of Ferreira by Antonio Soares dos Reis (1876)
Above right: Narciso (Narcissus) by Antonio Soares dos Reis (1881)
Above: Flor Agreste (Flower Wasteland) by Antonio Soares dos Reis (1881)
Above left: Cecilia by Henrique Pousao (1882); Above right: Esperando o sucesso (Waiting for success) by Henrique Pousao (1882)
Above left: Cansada (Feeling tired) by Henrique Pousao (1882); Above right: Rapariga deitada no tronco de uma arvore (Girl resting on a tree) by Henrique Pousao (1883)
Above left: Macieira partida (Broken apple tree) by Sousa Pinto (1883); Above right: Cabeca de velho - Portuzelo (Head of an old man - Portuzelo) by Sousa Pinto (1890)
Above: Jose Tagarro (self-portrait, 1929)
Above: Baiser (Caress, Kiss) by Ernesto Canto da Maya (1934)
Above right: Waiting for bus #500 to go to the beach (Praia dos Carneiros) and lighthouse
Above: Ponte da Arrabida, one of six bridges across the river Douro
Above left: Riding a double-decker bus #500; Above right: Praia dos Carneiros (foggy day)
Above left: These yellow (Camino) arrows were everywhere! :)
