Evora District

Évora exists because empires leave ruins, and ruins become tourist attractions. The Romans built a temple here in the 1st century CE—now called the Temple of Diana, though it was probably dedicated to Emperor Augustus—and it's the best-preserved Roman structure in Portugal precisely because it became inconvenient to demolish. Medieval builders incorporated its columns into defensive walls; later occupants used it as a slaughterhouse. By the time UNESCO declared Évora a World Heritage Site in 1986, the temple had survived 1,900 years not through reverence but through continuous repurposing. This pattern defines the Alentejo capital: adapt the past to present needs, preserve what's too difficult to remove.

The district runs on a metabolic cycle as old as agriculture: plant cork oaks, wait 25 years for first harvest, strip bark every nine years thereafter, repeat for up to 200 years per tree. Portugal produces half the world's cork; the Alentejo region dominates Portuguese production; Évora District sits at the center of this slow-growth economy. Cork forests (montados) cover vast stretches, creating parklike landscapes that double as grazing land—pigs forage for acorns beneath trees that won't reach full productivity until their planters are dead. Wine production follows similar logic: vines planted today mature in a decade, peak after 30 years, decline slowly. These are not industries for impatient capital or quarterly earnings reports.

The district's economy stratifies by time horizon. Cork and wine operate on generational cycles, producing steady if unspectacular returns. Tourism peaks in summer when visitors photograph the Roman temple and medieval walls, then vanishes when heat makes the plains unbearable (summer temperatures regularly exceed 40°C). Évora city itself (53,591 inhabitants in 2021) survives as an administrative and educational center—the University of Évora, refounded in 1973, employs academics and enrolls students who provide year-round economic activity. But surrounding municipalities depopulate steadily, repeating the Alentejo pattern: mechanized agriculture requires few workers, young people leave, services close, the remaining population ages.

By 2026, Évora faces a question about temporal mismatches. The cork trees planted in 1990 are hitting peak productivity now; those planted in 2020 won't pay off until 2045. Wine tourism grows as visitors seek "authentic" experiences, but authenticity requires people who actually live the traditional lifestyle, and those people are disappearing. The Roman temple stood for 1,900 years because Romans built for permanence and later generations found it useful; the cork forests exist because trees outlive economic cycles. But can a district sustain itself on industries measured in decades when the population makes decisions measured in years? Évora preserved its past accidentally; preserving its future requires intent.