Before leaving for Portugal, two experiences in Dublin marked the days before. On the Wednesday before, I negotiated my way into The Phil's presentation of Sir Michael John Gambon, perhaps best known (by my generation) for his portrayal of Albus Dumbledore (movies 3-8). Hearing the actor who counsels Harry Potter curse and laugh while recounting his life stories was a welcome addition the night. That Thursday, a few of us visited Cineworld for the Jameson Dublin International Film Festival's first look at the Australian drama/thriller 'Wasted on the Young,' which delves into the fatal consequences of social networking and high school cliques. A storyline spliced with flashbacks and expert cinematography was complemented by believable characters and a gripping pace.
FRIDAY
The Aer Lingus flight to Lisbon Airport was uneventful and more relaxed than the seat-rush and selling of Ryan Air. Still, beyond a seat number and more lax baggage restrictions, little else differentiated the airlines. After meeting my cousin Jorge at arrival gate, we headed to his parent's apartment (his father is my dad's first cousin), where I would be staying for the next few days. After saying olá to his parents and the Macau-studying-abroad student 'Rafael,' we sat down for a full dinner of pork chops and pasta, accentuated by the all the standard Portuguese accompaniments of olives, bread, wine, and espresso (with scotch on the side).
SATURDAY
Following a delicious light breakfast of coffee, and toast with butter and a pineapple-mango spread, I set out to get lost in the city before lunch. Before leaving the block, I stepped into the hotel across the street and collected a free map of the city to aid in my exploration. Soon thereafter I was at the roundabout for Sebastião José de Carvalho e Melo the 1st Marquess of Pombal and celebrated for his swift and able response to the devastating 1755 Lisbon Earthquake. Descending from the statue is the tree-lined and boulevard-styled Avenida da Liberdade that stretches down into the historic city center and by the River Tagus.
Rather than continue in that direction, I headed the opposite way up into the Parque Eduardo VII, which boasts a wide mall lined with paths, ponds, and even a tennis complex. At the top of the Park is a set of pillars with olive wreaths and centered with a massive Portuguese flag. The view of the city from the summit is only matched by those found on its other 'Seven Hills.'
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| Marquess of Pombal and Eduard VII Park in background |
For lunch, Jorge's sister Ana joined him, his parents, and I for Bacalhau à Gomes de Sá, the traditional Portuguese codfish and potato dish. Often my brothers and I remark that while the Italians have seven fishes the Portuguese have seven varieties of Bacalhau.
Afterwards, Jorge, Ana, and I descended down via old valley roads that parallel the modern Avenida to reach the historic city center. Once there, we tasted Ginjinha (made with cherries and aguardiente) by the famous shop bordering the square that once hosted executions for the Inquisition. The modern theater that stands in the old courthouse nearby is said to be cursed, and the Catholic Church of S. Domingo suffered a fire that devastated the never-repaired interior.
From there, we passed underneath the Rua Augusta Arch and into the Praça do Comércio which boarders the Tagus. The plaza is enormous and bordered on three sides with 18th century symmetrical buildings that once housed government ministries dedicated customs and commerce. The open square is only rivaled by several others that occupy wide swaths of prime real estate in the historic city center. Their existence attests to the pedestrian-friendly nature of Lisbon - a city with a subway, bus network, light rail, trolley, and commuter train stations.
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| Praça do Comércio |
Following a brief trip by the art and club district of Bairro Alto, Ana and I left for the 'Peruvian Saturday Night' dinner hosted by a local restaurant, as rented by a friend of hers. That friend met his wife online, and traveled to Peru shortly thereafter to marry her, and by all accounts has enjoyed a successful marriage to date. At the restaurant, I met Ana's boyfriend Manuel, and his son of my age, Antonio. The meal was spectacular with several courses including octopus and a few drinks of Pisco Sour, a South American cocktail made with various ingredients including lemon juice and egg white. The friend warned of its hidden potency due to a disguised taste, but indicated that it will never yield a hangover.
SUNDAY
A relaxed morning filled with breakfast and the Libyan uprising via RPT and CNN International gave way to a visit to Hospital da Luz in the Benfica neighborhood of Lisbon. Albino's brother, my father's first cousin, and Jorge and Ana's uncle, João was admitted to the facility a few weeks before, as his yearlong battle with cancer drew to close. Nearly 11 years prior he and his wife had entertained my family at his home in Padornelos, and it was difficult to see the same man weak in bed to accompany my only other memory of him.
At the hospital, one of his brothers invited me to join him for dinner later that night. Since João's son Joaquim, who lives near my house in Massachusetts, was in town, he could translate for my lack of fluency in Portuguese. Before leaving, one conversation between Joaquim and his uncle surrounded such a lack, but my cousin remarked that I could not be expected to speak Portuguese given the poor fluency of emigrants in France as compared to my greater distance in the States with a father who only learned the basics of the language in rural, northern Portugal.
Two of his uncles, their wives, he and I enjoyed a terrific dinner complete with full shrimp (eyes and all), chouriço, pork and 'orange' potatoes, fruit salad, aletria, wine, and scotch.
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