Out With the New, In With the Old

In the last week I have learned that Goa was 'settled' by Portuguese Christians in the 1600's and has continued to stay one of the most christian areas of India. This is very apparent all over Goa but especially in Old Goa. Giant Portuguese cathedrals still sit in this area from when St. Frances Xavier settled the area hundreds of years ago. Helen and I visited this area in two trips, the first was just to see the cathedral that holds St. Frances body, the second was with others to see the rest that Old Goa had to offer.
Like with everything I have written in this blog so far, trying to describe not only the look but the feeling of Old Goa is nearly impossible, but I will do my best. The first place we visited was, as I said, the St. Frances Xavier cathedral. The years have been kind to this brick fortress, yet you can still see that it has been there for longer than the US has been a country.
Intricate Christian cravings line the inside with gold giving the whole place a royal feel when entering. Signs are posted warning to stay silent, but are not necessary as just standing in the doorway leaves you speechless.
Seeing a Saint in a glass casket that has been dead for hundreds of years was an interesting feeling. Not being Christian myself I didn't feel the spirituality that I imagine a Christian would feel, yet there was a sense of awe. This man converted an area of over a million people hundreds of years ago and still to this day Goa is Christian. This man changed Goa. And there he was laying in front of us.
After the main area we walked into an art gallery of sorts. Darkened paintings with areas peeling away hung on the walls. They showed St. Frances in the image of Jesus saving the Indian people. Statues of him where every few steps. Upon exiting the building an iron table with the Saint's name on it was covered in candles. We lit ours to show our respect, but this proved to be easier than it sounded. The candles were dipped in oil making them crackle when lit spitting hot oil all over my hands. We then had to burn the other end to soften the wax so the candle could be stuck to the table. It took us three candles to get this right.
We visited the rest of Old Goa near sunset giving the whole area a golden hue. Walking around was like walking back in time, minus all the tourists of course. More giant cathedrals lined with intricate craving of Jesus, Mother Mary and select Saints were featured. Statues also found their way into the mix showing sometimes creepy faces of sadness.
Walking around these pieces of history I found myself wondering how many people before me had also stopped to admire these relics? How many weddings, baptisms,and funerals had been held in those very walls?
After leaving the main grounds we moved onto the ruins of St. Augustine complex. It was built in 1602 and abandoned in 1862 due to the expulsion of the religious orders from Goa and the Portuguese government ordered it's demolition. It's crumbling bell tour can be seen from the main grounds, a ghostly reminded of what once was. Walking up to it was amazing. The size of the structure was surprising, as you are walking through you expect the next turn to be the end it just keeps going.
Walls still have original cravings in areas and in the middle of one of the 'rooms' encased in glass sat a stone chest. Rubbed away crosses could just barley be seen on walls where tourists have carved their names, hoping to also be frozen in time. The baptism tub sat raised in the middle of the first section, empty and growing random vegetation.
Across the street, both south and east, sat more cathedrals. One more modern and one only a few hundred years newer than the ruins. There was a sign outside it that said "Nunnery" but once we entered it looked abandoned, resembling the set of a horror movie. A short hallway that led to the main chapel had small inlets that had a creepy child sized table and chair set and an animal skin with Jesus on the cross painted on it.
Upon entering the chapel some birds flew out from the rafters, shedding feathers that floated down to us. With the sun almost down by this time only a small ray shone in showing fallen pillars and debris littering the floor and alter. A single statue of a man holding a staff stood in my view, I took a picture and hurried out of the eerie room in order to catch up with my friends. I did not want to be alone in there. Right outside, in the wall, was a glass cabinet filled with black crosses that looked as though they had been carelessly tossed in years ago.