Coimbra

Coimbra is the city that Lisbon and Porto overshadow, which is a shame, because it has something neither of them can offer: the particular atmosphere of a place that has been a centre of learning for eight centuries and has let that identity seep into every stone. The University of Coimbra, founded in 1290, is one of the oldest continuously operating universities in the world, and its presence shapes everything — the students in black capes hurrying through medieval streets, the fado tradition that is distinct from Lisbon’s (here it is sung by men, and it is about the university, not the sea), the bookshops and cafés and the sense that conversation here is taken seriously.

The Biblioteca Joanina is why I came the first time, and it did not disappoint. Built in the 18th century under King João V, it is one of the most beautiful libraries in the world — three interconnected rooms of gilded Baroque woodwork, painted ceilings, and 300,000 volumes dating back to the 12th century. A colony of bats lives behind the shelves, eating the insects that would otherwise damage the books — a natural pest control system that has been operating for centuries. You visit on a timed ticket, and even the fifteen-minute slot is enough to understand why people build religions around books.

The old university campus — the Alta — occupies the hilltop above the city and is itself a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The ceremonial hall, the chapel, the bell tower that still rings to mark the academic day — all of it contributes to the sense of walking through a living medieval institution. The queima das fitas — the ribbon-burning festival at the end of the academic year in May — is one of Portugal’s most exuberant celebrations, when students burn the ribbons of their faculty colours and the city gives itself over to music, parades, and a week of festivities that make São João in Porto look restrained.

Below the university, the old town descends the hill in a cascade of narrow streets, arched passages, and crumbling facades that feel more like a hill town in Umbria than a Portuguese city. Café Santa Cruz, set in a former church with vaulted ceilings and stained glass, serves coffee and pastéis de Santa Clara (almond pastries from a recipe perfected by nuns) in an atmosphere that makes every other café feel inadequate. The Mosteiro de Santa Clara-a-Velha — the old convent that spent centuries slowly sinking into the Mondego river and was only excavated in the 2000s — is one of the most haunting ruins in Portugal.

Coimbra’s fado — fado de Coimbra — deserves special mention. Unlike Lisbon fado, which is performed in restaurants and sung by both men and women, Coimbra fado is traditionally performed outdoors, at night, by men in academic capes, and the audience listens in silence with the lights dimmed. The tradition of serenading — singing beneath a woman’s window — persists here in a way that would seem absurd anywhere else and feels entirely natural in a city where the medieval and the modern coexist without friction.

When to go: May for the queima das fitas festival, or September to October for warm weather without the student-year crowds. The city is quieter in summer when the university is on break, which has its own charm — the streets feel more local, the restaurants less rushed.