Largo de Santo Estêvão
Why is it significant?
You have reached one of the high terraces of Alfama: a small square in front of the church of Santo Estêvão, with a low wall to lean on and, below it, roofs tumbling down towards the river and the cranes of the port. On a summer evening this is where the neighbourhood comes to sit, talk and listen.
Key Facts
| Place | Largo de Santo Estêvão |
|---|---|
| Address | Largo de Santo Estêvão, 1100-494 Lisboa, Portugal |
| Geo Coordinates | 38.71220, -9.12780 |
| Part of Walk | Mouraria, Cradle of Fado: From Maria Severa to Amália in Lisbon |
| Generated | Generated |
You have reached one of the high terraces of Alfama: a small square in front of the church of Santo Estêvão, with a low wall to lean on and, below it, roofs tumbling down towards the river and the cranes of the port. On a summer evening this is where the neighbourhood comes to sit, talk and listen.
There has been a parish church of Saint Stephen on this spot since the Middle Ages, and the building you see was rebuilt in the eighteenth century. Like the chapel in Mouraria, it anchors the neighbourhood's calendar of saints, processions and feasts, and in Alfama the feasts are loud.
In June Lisbon celebrates its popular saints, above all Santo António on the night of 12 to 13 June. Alfama turns into one long street party: paper garlands strung between the balconies, grills of sardines on every corner, and pots of manjerico, a small-leaved basil sold with a paper carnation and a little four-line verse tucked into it. Popular poetry, sold by the potful.
Then come the Marchas Populares, the neighbourhood parades. They were organised in 1932 by Leitão de Barros, the same director who had filmed A Severa a year earlier. Every year each neighbourhood rehearses for months, with new songs, costumes and arches, and marches down the Avenida da Liberdade competing for the prize. Many marcha songs were written by fado composers and sung by fadistas, and Alfama's marcha, like Mouraria's, is always among the favourites. Fado and the marcha are two faces of the same streets: one sung alone in the dark, the other sung by hundreds in the light.
Look out at the river. Alfama's fado is full of it: ships leaving, sailors who never came back, emigrants and the women who waited. Saudade began on quays like those below you. Now walk down through the lanes, south towards the river, little more than a hundred metres, to the old water station where fado keeps its memory.