I am always at peace in a church cloister. I think it's the rounded arches, the continuity of the cloister that you can walk round and round, the strength and age of the stone pillars, and the quiet away from the hustle and bustle of daily life.
The cloister of San Jeronimo monastery was perhaps even more peaceful than most. The centre of the cloister is filled with orange and lemon trees and jasmine, and the air was fragrant with blossom. Among the paving stones were memorials to monks who had died in the 16 and 1700s, a reminder that time passes and yet life goes on. It felt good to be held in the embrace of a life force that is greater than myself.