This Week's Great New Thing

While enveloped in my very latest creative rut, it occurred to me that maybe I need to broaden my horizons a bit. So, I've decided to try something new every week, whether it's taking a trip to Tonga or buying that mysterious ugli fruit that I keep passing by in the produce aisle at the grocery store. And, just in case others out there may be interested, I thought I'd chronicle in a blog my baby steps into some of these hot (or tepid) new frontiers. Hope you enjoy it. --S.L. Malone

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Portugal

My bathroom cabinet is made of wood, which has soaked in so much moisture from the room over the years that it now emits a mildewy, slightly putrid smell. I never really was aware of the smell in the past, but ever since we’ve returned from our vacation to Portugal, I need only walk into that room to be transported right back to the cities we explored. When you get right down to it, the smell of my bathroom is a perfect analogy of our findings on Portugal in general—not off-putting, but just a bit too foul to be really enjoyable.

Our problem may have been that we didn’t set our expectations correctly. I lived in Spain for a while, and my beloved Sam has some experience there as well, so we automatically assumed that given the geographic proximity of the two countries, Portugal would similarly woo us by the friendly demeanor of its people and the beauty of its landscapes. What we didn’t consider, global citizens that we are, was the fact that the two countries have vastly different historical and socio-economic stories to tell, and that those differences would have an impact on both the locals and the locations. There is also something to be said for our choice of stops during the trip. We chose to avoid the more touristy spots, like the picture postcard beaches of the Algarve in the south, in favor of the historic hotspots and areas with lots of local flavor. So, I suppose, you get what you bargain for. So, I thought I summarize for my fellow explorers some of the good, the bad, and the ugly as it pertains to our Portuguese expedition:

Nazare

  • The Good—This little beach town has a lot of traditional flavor, including women in skirts with seven petticoats, ridiculously good seafood, cheap accommodations, and lovely beaches.
  • The Bad—Those lovely local women are actually bossy as hell, and spend a good portion of their down time in heated discussion with each other. As Sam and I strolled arm in arm down the ancient streets, we came upon an especially saucy discussion between two local ladies, one of whom was so disturbed by the argument, that as we walked passed her, we witnessed her lean over in her chair and retch onto the cobblestone street, then sit back up and continue on as if nothing had happened. How romantic, no?
  • The Ugly—Let me only say this—that odor to which I’ve already referred was permanently burned into our memories by a shop owner from whom we bought a lovely shawl in Nazare. Small store, 95-degree heat, and a dude who had probably not bathed in a week. No wonder the local ladies are in such a state—they have to cuddle up to my bathroom cabinet every night!

    Lisbon
  • The Good—Lisbon is one heck of a history center, with seven hills, half a dozen distinctive neighborhoods, and a palate of international influences. There’s no shortage of opportunity to café-hop, shop, or dine well on a tight budget. And the pastries in Belem are so delicious as to defy description.
  • The Bad—While in Lisbon, do not attempt to check your e-mail or have a light-hearted, friendly conversation with anyone who is not a tourist. Both of these endeavors will be fruitless, and you will end up as sullen as the people with whom you tried to yuck it up. And it’s not a language thing, either. . . I speak Portuguese. Thus was crumpled my hopes of a Seville-like charm from the folks on the other side of Iberia.
  • The Ugly—“No, I do not have any money to give you. You’ve come up to me at three cafes in the last day and a half, and I tell you every time that I do not have alms for you. And please tell your nephew with the Chihuahua and the accordion that I still don’t have anything for him, either.”

Quite honestly, the only Portuguese town that Sam and I would return to—and would like to do soon at that—was Porto. What a marvelous place! Other than the occasional BO, which you’ll find all over the country, I suppose, Porto had that vibration, that vitality, that we didn’t perceive in Lisbon or Nazare. Porto is alive—people are creating new and better lives and professions, and the city is making itself into a new-fashioned old-world hotspot. The port lodges and the stunning views charmed us in the daytime, and the riverfront, with its friendly people, incredible food, and happy bustle, seduced us by moonlight. If you ever venture to Portugal, be sure to climb the hills of the Ribeira, look over the lovely Rio Douro, and raise a glass of tawny to a city that toasts you back.

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