Portugal: soft on the soul
We spent five weeks in Portugal from June into July. Summer was just starting, but we really didn’t feel hot weather until mid way into the stay. This was our first stepping stone in our journey of finding a home base. So we went with eyes looking to see if the country could be a good fit for us. But mostly we went because of nomad curiosity. I have been to Lisbon once, years ago with little Ruya Lilly. It was one week, brief, just me and a tiny babe. I liked Lisbon, I liked the feeling of the people and place, enough to pull me back there again. I have good memories of sopa and buying Ruya tiny little black boots, watching the street performers and eating fish with her on my lap.
So we landed in Lisbon again, this time a family of four. We stayed in the city, in an only just decent enough Airbnb: good enough to sleep in, bad enough to compel outings every morning and afternoon. That was good in a way because we saw a lot. It was close to FX factory, a little, trendy collection of shops and eateries. Within it was a place selling the best chocolate cake I have ever tasted. I am not a cake eater or much of a sweets person, but this cake took me over. The place just sells cake and hot chocolate. The food in general is excellent. It’s simple - think grilled fish, chicken, soup, beans, bread, cheese - not too expensive and flavorful. It isn’t impressive in the way French or Italian food may be but it is deeply satisfying. The food reflects the people, down to earth, humble and honest.
Our favorite spot in Lisbon was Campo de Ourique. It’s a upmarket area with a lovely little playground, a hub of amazing clothing and toy shops, nice cafes and fancy boutiques. The kids would run around in the playground with Papa and I would grab an hour for myself wandering through the streets and shops. Like everywhere in Portugal there is an unusually high amount of fancy children clothing shops. I found out much later from our hostess in Amarante, that there is a tradition in Portugal of gifting children new clothes at birthdays, Christmas and Easter. The clothing shops house the most beautiful, old fashioned dresses and shirts for boys. Lace, hand made dresses, long socks and frills. And all at a very high price, some of the most expensive items I saw in Portugal. Such is their esteem for children. I was told that Portuguese tend to protect their children strongly, indulge them, and I definitely felt happy to travel around with mine. Everyone looked at my little ones, even when they were acting up, with warmth and acceptance.
We left Lisbon after six days and went up to Porto, to a much better and very modern Airbnb. Porto is a totally different city to Lisbon, wind washed with the ocean right on its edges. I loved Porto, and the rumors of how lovely it was proved true. The food is excellent, especially when it comes to seafood. Generally our best food experiences came from walking around and just going into some small place. Google searches and reviews proved less than useful and often a failure for us. But our walk in moments got us experiences like a little back room in what looked like a bar, where we were served incredible grilled fish and soup. Soup is a staple, even in a coffee shop, almost always vegetarian and hearty. Or a place next to a petrol station in the middle of what seemed like nothing much, we walked into an empty restaurant, and ate like kings, feasting on grilled sardines and the children devoured the chicken.
After two cities I was ready for rural. My man left us to go and work and I drove the kids and I an hour and half away inland, to a small town on the river called Amarente. We stayed there two weeks in an old stone house, with a wide view of the mountains. When you drive through Amarente and the area around it, you see grapevines everywhere. People grow grapes in every nook and cranny. It’s part of the tradition of fresh wine produced by almost everyone. The landscape is green, punctuated by the river. It rained and the wind blew with storms some days. Other days were hot. The children and I sometimes spent a whole day at home in the quiet of the stone. The people that owned the house had some well kept toys from decades ago. The real deal toys that last in time and in attention. When we went into town we got to know where to get the best expresso and chocolate heart biscuits. Everyone in Portugal drinks expresso, and so did I. After not drinking coffee for almost ten years I developed a liking for a single shot of expresso a day, and after Italy for drinking it standing up.
When Emrah returned we had one of our most memorable experiences. I had identified a restaurant in the middle of no where with lots of star reviews: Tasquinha do Fumo. Amarente is renown for its food, for good reason. So one day we decided to try it, since we usually buy from the market and cook at home. We drove and then drove and then we were on a road that was dirt, and seemed more and more treacherous. Roads in Portugal in general can be tricky. Google maps has a habit of sending you onto a road that is actually not a road, it looks like one, but it is too narrow to drive on or it ends suddenly. But we kept going because we felt a bit wild and it was getting more and more scenic. We got to the top of the mountain, a landscape of stone and grass untouched by concrete, and then went down again ending up in a tiny village. There was the restaurant and no one spoke any English, except for a woman who had been eating there. We learned from her it’s a local place where you call in beforehand and tell them what to cook. But they said they had some food left for us so we said ok, and then our English speaker was gone. With no words to be understood the gestures were basic, food was given, we ate it, expressed our primitive delight and smiles were shed all around. We sat in an old wooden room full of catholic imagery, next door the family cooked mostly on the fire. And then we were presented with home made sausage, fresh cheese, bread and a platter of meat that had obviously been cooked for most of the day. I haven’t eaten meat for years, maybe ten, except for a few months while pregnant. But I decided that the moment required a breaking of my internal taboo. The meat had been cooked with passion, it was jaw dropping delicious and that was the food we had. So I ate, and ate and I loved it. Afterwards the children played in the garden, expresso came and some deserts. I hugged that family when we said goodbye. It felt good to break some taboos and I’ve been experimenting with my rigidity ever since.
Next we headed South to a place on the river in a smattering of houses, about thirty minutes from Gouveia. On the drive down we saw the incredible vineyards of Douro. The vines crevice every inch of the mountains which are large. It’s like a surreal world of towering land etched in with vines. The wine produced by those grapes are some of the best I have ever tasted, and least accessible if you are not in Portugal. We arrived to a renovated stone house, truly isolated in a terrain that was hotter, drier and vast. The frogs made the most sound, and except for occasional visitors to the river bank, we had the place to ourself. The children spent time in water, either the river or hot tub, and a few times the kayak. Our last ten days were very rural, with little around besides a basic grocery store. We watched the mountain and river and savored the last bit of time on the edge of Europe.
I doubt we will make Portugal our home. Over our time there work, finances, logistics for the future coalesced into that decision. But I would visit again. It’s a place that is so very easy on the soul, and certainly one of the easiest countries to travel in as a foreigner.
Then we flew across the Atlantic to California, to continue the journey of finding a home base.
