#terramoto

Today I will write about the earthquake of Lisbon, November 1st, 1755.

Earthquake

The Saturday started as a normal day at Lisbon. It was November 1st 1755, the day we celebrate our saints and pay respect to the dead in Portugal (even today). Many people arrived early to the churches to hear the mass and to pay respect to their ancestors and dead love ones. But they didn’t expect what was about to happened next.

At 9.45 am the floor of Lisbon starts to shook strongly leaving their population confused and scared as everything around them starts to fall into the ground.The first earthquake lasted less then 2 minutes. When everyone was about to breath in relief a second earthquake starts just one minute after. The second one lasted more than 2 minutes. Again, once more the floor stops shaking. But one minute later the third earthquake starts and this one it’s stronger and lasted more then 3 minutes. The chaos was installed as buildings started to collapse killing the first ones on the streets, in their houses, and especially in the churches. Multiple earthquakes happened during that day.  

But the worst was about to come…

Tsunami

From the square called “Praça do Comércio” three giant waves swept out of the ocean at speeds of 800 to 965 kilometers per hour. The ocean entered into the city killing everyone in the square. Children and mothers were the first to be pulled by the strong waters. The same waters pushed the boats into the city killing others who had survive to the waves.

“There were a lot of people pulled into the Tagus River because they wanted to run away from the falling buildings, full of horror from the sight of its ruins. Behold, suddenly the sea enters the bar with a furious flood of waters, (…) passing its former boundaries it launched itself over many buildings and flooded the neighborhood of S. Paulo. The astonishment of the waters grew in all those who had sought the beaches, and the new danger spread throughout the City and its suburbs with a vague voice that said the sea was covering everything.” -  Testimony of Joaquim José Moreira de Mendonça (1758)

Fire

In other part of the city a fire was already starting. Probably caused by the candles lighted inside of the churches. The fire was strong and consumed the ruins of the buildings. Bodies that were trapped between the ruins were kill by the fire. This fire was on for many days because the firefighters couldn’t give respond to the strength of the catastrophe.

Especially in November 1, Lisbon lived a day of Terror. Bodies spread by the streets, some lifeless, others in agony with rocks above them a pieces of buildings. All the population felt this was a punishment of God so many of them asked for mercy by kneeling in the middle of te streets as all around them fell apart.  Mark Molesky in his book  “This Gulf of Fire: The Destruction of Lisbon, or Apocalypse in the Age of Science and Reason” wrote some testimonies from the era. He quote: “It started (the fire) in hundreds of places around the city, ”writes Molesky. “I could barely walk without stepping on someone dead or dying.” “In some places… mothers with their children in their arms… well-dressed rich ladies… some had broken backs or legs; others had large stones piercing their chests. “

The following days, things didn’t got better. The fire lasted more than 4 days and destroyed almost all the city. The crimes started, people didn’t had food, home, clothes, and not even their families. The prime ministry Marquês de Pombal as a respond to the tragedy said: “Bury the dead and care for the living”. He also sentence the ones who committed crimes to be hanged in public as an example to the population who thought in stealing or creating even more chaos.

Today we estimated more than 10.000 people lost their life in this catastrophe! The Earthquake affected other cities of Portugal, Spain and Marrocos. We also estimated that the earthquake had a magnitude in the range 8.5–9.0

It was said by the experts that Lisbon will surfer another earthquake in the following years. Let’s hope that won’t be as a tragedy like this ones.

Small Business Spotlight Series: Unique Coffee Spots in NYC

Our Agents travel all over the city every day on behalf of their clients and know the best of the best of everything. As a result, we decided to start a new Small Business Blog Series centering around different aspects of our great city. Our first foray centers around the most vital beverage in NYC. Coffee is seen by many as that force that keeps our city moving. Everyone has their own favorite shop. They rely on that spot to get them through the day. Take it from our agents on where to go to make sure your next cup is a caffeinated experience like non-other.

Silvana Harlem 300 W 116th St, New York, NY 10026

After visiting South Africa, agent Kleopatra Phili says entering this hip café brings her right back to Capetown. Although it is an Israeli restaurant, the sale of handmade crafts throughout the store is reminiscent of African boutiques. The small shop also includes its own jazz nights and musicals. “Make sure to have your coffee made with delicious oat milk, one of the newest coffee-making trends,” says Phili.

(Recommended by Kleopatra Phili of our West Side office)

Birch Upper East Side 134 ½ E 62nd St, New York, NY 10065

As soon as this coffee bar opened on the Upper East Side, it immediately attracted a more modern audience to the area. The décor inside is very unique and boasts a rustic/modern vibe. With shops also set up in Flatiron and the Upper West Side, Birch is a popular choice among New Yorkers looking for the next big thing.

(Recommended by Anne Prosser of our Park Avenue office)

Today I will write about the earthquake of Lisbon, November 1st, 1755.

Earthquake

The Saturday started as a normal day at Lisbon. It was November 1st 1755, the day we celebrate our saints and pay respect to the dead in Portugal (even today). Many people arrived early to the churches to hear the mass and to pay respect to their ancestors and dead love ones. But they didn’t expect what was about to happened next.

At 9.45 am the floor of Lisbon starts to shook strongly leaving their population confused and scared as everything around them starts to fall into the ground.The first earthquake lasted less then 2 minutes. When everyone was about to breath in relief a second earthquake starts just one minute after. The second one lasted more than 2 minutes. Again, once more the floor stops shaking. But one minute later the third earthquake starts and this one it’s stronger and lasted more then 3 minutes. The chaos was installed as buildings started to collapse killing the first ones on the streets, in their houses, and especially in the churches. Multiple earthquakes happened during that day.  

But the worst was about to come...

Tsunami

From the square called “Praça do Comércio” three giant waves swept out of the ocean at speeds of 800 to 965 kilometers per hour. The ocean entered into the city killing everyone in the square. Children and mothers were the first to be pulled by the strong waters. The same waters pushed the boats into the city killing others who had survive to the waves.

“There were a lot of people pulled into the Tagus River because they wanted to run away from the falling buildings, full of horror from the sight of its ruins. Behold, suddenly the sea enters the bar with a furious flood of waters, (...) passing its former boundaries it launched itself over many buildings and flooded the neighborhood of S. Paulo. The astonishment of the waters grew in all those who had sought the beaches, and the new danger spread throughout the City and its suburbs with a vague voice that said the sea was covering everything.” -  Testimony of Joaquim José Moreira de Mendonça (1758) 

Fire

In other part of the city a fire was already starting. Probably caused by the candles lighted inside of the churches. The fire was strong and consumed the ruins of the buildings. Bodies that were trapped between the ruins were kill by the fire. This fire was on for many days because the firefighters couldn’t give respond to the strength of the catastrophe.

Especially in November 1, Lisbon lived a day of Terror. Bodies spread by the streets, some lifeless, others in agony with rocks above them a pieces of buildings. All the population felt this was a punishment of God so many of them asked for mercy by kneeling in the middle of te streets as all around them fell apart.  Mark Molesky in his book  “This Gulf of Fire: The Destruction of Lisbon, or Apocalypse in the Age of Science and Reason” wrote some testimonies from the era. He quote: “It started (the fire) in hundreds of places around the city, ”writes Molesky. “I could barely walk without stepping on someone dead or dying.” “In some places… mothers with their children in their arms… well-dressed rich ladies… some had broken backs or legs; others had large stones piercing their chests. "

The following days, things didn’t got better. The fire lasted more than 4 days and destroyed almost all the city. The crimes started, people didn’t had food, home, clothes, and not even their families. The prime ministry Marquês de Pombal as a respond to the tragedy said: “Bury the dead and care for the living”. He also sentence the ones who committed crimes to be hanged in public as an example to the population who thought in stealing or creating even more chaos.

Today we estimated more than 10.000 people lost their life in this catastrophe! The Earthquake affected other cities of Portugal, Spain and Marrocos. We also estimated that the earthquake had a magnitude in the range 8.5–9.0

It was said by the experts that Lisbon will surfer another earthquake in the following years. Let’s hope that won’t be as a tragedy like this ones.

A Baixa Pombalina respirava história, uma camada sobre camada de tragédia e resiliência. Para Joaquim, um arqueólogo de quarenta e poucos anos com mais dívidas do que descobertas, essa história era uma promessa de redenção. A sua obsessão eram as Galerias Romanas da Rua da Prata, um labirinto húmido e esquecido que se estendia sob os alicerces da Lisboa moderna. O texto que o consumia falava de tesouros perdidos: "Obras de arte e artefactos dos palácios e igrejas destruídos podem ainda estar por descobrir nas fundações e no subsolo da cidade reconstruída."

Joaquim lançou-se numa prospecção noturna e clandestina, acompanhado de um ajudante silencioso, Miguel, munidos de lanternas LED de alta potência e um mapa rudimentar desenhado a giz.

Naquela noite de quinta-feira, o ar no subsolo era espesso, carregado com o cheiro a bolor, esgoto e uma nota metálica estranha, quase como cobre enferrujado. O som do trânsito da superfície era um murmúrio distante e abafado, substituído pelo gotejar constante de água nas piscinas estagnadas que enchiam as arcadas.

"Isto é incrível, doutor," sussurrou Miguel, a sua lanterna dançando sobre as paredes de pedra ciclópica, os arcos perfeitamente preservados emergindo da escuridão.

"O incrível ainda está por vir, miúdo," respondeu Joaquim, o seu coração a bater mais rápido. "O mapa sugere uma câmara de serviço lateral, bloqueada desde a reconstrução pombalina. É lá que a história se esconde."

Eles encontraram a parede. Não era a alvenaria romana, mas sim uma barreira de tijolos grosseiros e argamassa de cal apressada. Com picaretas leves, começaram a trabalhar. A remoção de cada tijolo soltava uma nuvem de poeira antiga.

Atrás da parede, o ar mudou. Tornou-se frio e, paradoxalmente, seco. A lanterna de Joaquim revelou uma passagem estreita que se afunilava numa sala. Não havia piscinas de água aqui. O chão era de terra batida.

Foi então que o silêncio se instalou. Não o silêncio abafado, mas um silêncio absoluto, antinatural. Nem o gotejar da água se ouvia mais.

"Miguel, ouviste?" perguntou Joaquim.

Miguel acenou com a cabeça, os olhos arregalados.

Joaquim avançou. A sala era pequena, mas não vazia. No centro, havia uma arca de madeira maciça, do tipo que se vê em ilustrações de tesouros de piratas, mas sem a parafernália metálica. Estava selada com um cadeado de ferro maciço e corroído.

Ao redor da arca, alinhadas meticulosamente contra as paredes, havia estátuas. Não deuses romanos ou figuras religiosas. Eram figuras humanas, em tamanho real, feitas de algum tipo de material escuro e brilhante, como basalto polido ou vidro vulcânico. Capturavam homens e mulheres em poses de agonia, as suas expressões faciais distorcidas num grito silencioso.

"Obras de arte," sussurrou Joaquim, a sua respiração ofegante. "Do tempo do terramoto... foram preservadas aqui."

Ele aproximou-se de uma das figuras. Representava um homem a proteger o rosto com os braços, os músculos tensos, cada veia esculpida com uma precisão arrepiante. Não parecia esculpido. Parecia... real.

"Ajuda-me a abrir a arca, Miguel," ordenou Joaquim, a sua mente ofuscada pela febre da descoberta.

Miguel hesitou. "Doutor, estas estátuas... não são normais."

Joaquim ignorou-o, puxando a picareta para arrebentar o cadeado. Com um rangido de metal enferrujado, o ferrolho cedeu. A tampa da arca abriu-se com um guincho lento.

Lá dentro, não havia ouro ou prata. Havia apenas uma substância escura e viscosa, que brilhava fracamente à luz da lanterna. Emitia um odor nauseabundo, o cheiro de cobre enferrujado amplificado cem vezes. No centro da substância, havia uma única jóia, um rubi do tamanho de um punho, que pulsava com uma luz carmesim e fraca.

Joaquim estendeu a mão, hipnotizado pelo brilho. No momento em que os seus dedos tocaram a substância, a jóia pulsou violentamente, e um som irrompeu na sala.

Não era um som de festa ou celebração. Era um coro de gritos. Gritos humanos, agonizantes, que pareciam vir das paredes, do chão, das próprias estátuas. O silêncio absoluto fora quebrado por um terror sónico.

Miguel gritou, largando a lanterna. A luz rolou pelo chão, projectando sombras grotescas que dançavam. As estátuas, antes imóveis, pareciam mover-se nas periferias da visão. As suas expressões de agonia agora pareciam dirigidas a eles.

"A-afaste-se disso, doutor!" Miguel gaguejou, recuando para a passagem.

Joaquim puxou a mão para trás, o pânico a substituir a ganância. O líquido escuro agarrou-se à sua pele como mel pegajoso, queimando.

A jóia brilhava mais intensamente agora, a luz vermelha a iluminar a sala. As figuras de basalto pareciam estar a suavizar-se, as suas superfícies duras a tornarem-se flexíveis. O homem com os braços sobre o rosto baixou ligeiramente um braço.

"Elas... não são estátuas," sussurrou Joaquim, o horror a gelar-lhe o sangue. "São as pessoas. Foram preservadas."

A substância na arca começou a espumar e a subir, um miasma negro a encher o ar. O cheiro de cobre enferrujado tornou-se insuportável, quase metálico na língua.

"Corre, Miguel! Corre!"

Eles tropeçaram um no outro na passagem estreita, com os gritos das almas presas a ecoarem nos seus ouvidos, um som que rasgava a sanidade. Chegaram à barreira de tijolos, a sua entrada para a segurança, apenas para descobrir que o buraco pelo qual tinham entrado parecia estar a encolher, ou a argamassa a expandir-se.

Miguel passou primeiro, raspando os ombros na pressa. "Anda, doutor!"

Joaquim espremeu-se, sentindo a substância negra na sua mão a arder, a dor aguda e intensa. Quando finalmente se libertou para a galeria principal, caiu ofegante na água estagnada.

Ele olhou para trás. A entrada da câmara secreta tinha desaparecido. No seu lugar, havia apenas a parede de alvenaria grosseira e apressada de antes. Nem um vestígio do buraco que tinham feito.

A lanterna de Miguel tinha parado de rolar. Ele estava encostado a uma das arcadas romanas, a tremer incontrolavelmente, a tentar abafar os gritos que ainda ecoavam dentro da sua cabeça. O som dos gritos começou a desvanecer-se, lentamente, regressando ao silêncio antinatural.

Eles saíram das galerias sem uma palavra, fechando a pesada porta de metal que dava para a Rua da Prata com um estrondo final. A luz amarela dos candeeiros da cidade parecia demasiado brilhante, a vida noturna da Baixa Pombalina demasiado ruidosa.

Joaquim nunca mais falou da sua descoberta. Apenas tentou limpar a substância negra da sua mão, mas uma mancha escura e brilhante permaneceu, queimada na sua pele como uma tatuagem.

Pediu hoje perdão aos habitantes da província de Adiyaman, uma das mais afetadas pelo devastador terremoto de 6 de fevereiro. O presidente turco, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, pediu hoje perdão aos habitantes da província de Adiyaman, uma das mais afetadas pelo devastador terremoto de 6 de fevereiro, pelo atraso no socorro. “Devido ao efeito devastador dos sismos e do mau tempo, não conseguimos…