Sintra
Lord Byron called it the Glorious Eden. The fop may not have been able to pronounce Don Juan, but he had this city pegged. A beautiful little town clinging to steep forested mountainsides, Sintra charmed us from the moment we set foot off the train, from the quaint cafes to the old timey barber shop (which I missed before it closed) to the ancient Moorish castle to the grand palace that replaced it.
We did Sintra as a day trip from Lisbon, a quick 50 minute jaunt by Metro and Train, and we had a wonderful time there. Took a lloooooooong climb up to the castle, tromping around the ramparts and scaling the turrets, trying to imagine what it was like for the moors to defend it from the oncoming Potruguese, before heading a bit further up the hill to the Palacio de Pena, the palace that became the ruling center when the moors were displaced. I'm not a big fan of gaping at the history of the ruling class (I prefer to see where the real people lived--after all, like they say, anything is possible with an endless supply of free labor, so why the big whoop?), but this was pretty impressive. Still very close to what it was when the royals left it for a new palace closer to sea level.
Had a great grilled cuttlefish for dinner, with carrot soup and a cold beer. Wonderful. Now we're back in Lisbon, heading back to the room to rest our weary feet. Ah, bed.
Still having a wonderful time. 9 days down, 20 left to go! Tomorrow we head out for another day trip to Cascais, a beach town, to laze around a bit and have some more seafood.
Hope all are well.
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
LISBON
Tight, steep, windy streets, unbelievably friendly people, and some of the most amazing seafood I´ve seen or eaten ever. We have arrived in Lisbon! Transport to Portugal went as smoothly as the rest of it has, and we´ve had a fantastic couple days since arriving here. This city is just beautiful, magnificent, like something out of a dream. We´ve walked enough to wear holes in our shoes, and Cathy´s taken so many photos that I think we could assemble them into a flipbook of a virtual tour of the city. It´s hard to not take a photo of everything we see.
Our first couple days here have been spent getting acclimated (read: sleeping in and sitting around and drinking coffee and wandering the streets). Our room is on the largest square in the city, the Rossio, and our windows look out onto the giant statue in the center and the surrounding buildings, all adorned with outrageous flashing and strobing Christmas lights, complete with recorded carols playing from 10am to 11am daily. Feliz Natal! It´s a very celebratory atmosphere here, EVERYthing lit up, everyone walking around with shopping bags and smiles on their faces.
Last night, we stumbled into a tiny restaurant (Aimbra de Roques, I think it was called), the doorway just below street level, brimming with locals and smelling of heaven. We got a table right away--luck was on our side, as within 10 minutes of our sitting there was a line out the door for the rest of the night. We know, because we were there for a LONG time. We started with some oysters stewed with tomatoes and onions and spices, and followed that with loads of crusty bread and a stew of various fish and shellfish (Seafoods Cataplana) that made my jaw drop. Just fantastic. A bottle of the house white rounded out the meal, and then we moved to a chocolate mousse with espresso for me and a glass of reserve porto for Cathy--her first here in town, and it did not disappoint. Ruby colored and sweet to perfection, it was fantastic. We shared a table with a group of 4 girls from south of Madrid, very nice folks, who we were able to talk to quite a bit. All in all a great first night here.
We´ve just finished strolling the mazelike streets of the Alfama, an old neighborhood that feels like we´re way back in time. Now, we´ll head back to the room and get ready to go out and eat again. Oh, the joy!
Tomorrow we begin the more touristy part of the trip, taking daytrips out to Sintra and Cascais, one day each, and then hitting all the museums we can, especially the maritime museum, which should be quite interesting in a city with the seafaring history of this place.
More later!
Tight, steep, windy streets, unbelievably friendly people, and some of the most amazing seafood I´ve seen or eaten ever. We have arrived in Lisbon! Transport to Portugal went as smoothly as the rest of it has, and we´ve had a fantastic couple days since arriving here. This city is just beautiful, magnificent, like something out of a dream. We´ve walked enough to wear holes in our shoes, and Cathy´s taken so many photos that I think we could assemble them into a flipbook of a virtual tour of the city. It´s hard to not take a photo of everything we see.
Our first couple days here have been spent getting acclimated (read: sleeping in and sitting around and drinking coffee and wandering the streets). Our room is on the largest square in the city, the Rossio, and our windows look out onto the giant statue in the center and the surrounding buildings, all adorned with outrageous flashing and strobing Christmas lights, complete with recorded carols playing from 10am to 11am daily. Feliz Natal! It´s a very celebratory atmosphere here, EVERYthing lit up, everyone walking around with shopping bags and smiles on their faces.
Last night, we stumbled into a tiny restaurant (Aimbra de Roques, I think it was called), the doorway just below street level, brimming with locals and smelling of heaven. We got a table right away--luck was on our side, as within 10 minutes of our sitting there was a line out the door for the rest of the night. We know, because we were there for a LONG time. We started with some oysters stewed with tomatoes and onions and spices, and followed that with loads of crusty bread and a stew of various fish and shellfish (Seafoods Cataplana) that made my jaw drop. Just fantastic. A bottle of the house white rounded out the meal, and then we moved to a chocolate mousse with espresso for me and a glass of reserve porto for Cathy--her first here in town, and it did not disappoint. Ruby colored and sweet to perfection, it was fantastic. We shared a table with a group of 4 girls from south of Madrid, very nice folks, who we were able to talk to quite a bit. All in all a great first night here.
We´ve just finished strolling the mazelike streets of the Alfama, an old neighborhood that feels like we´re way back in time. Now, we´ll head back to the room and get ready to go out and eat again. Oh, the joy!
Tomorrow we begin the more touristy part of the trip, taking daytrips out to Sintra and Cascais, one day each, and then hitting all the museums we can, especially the maritime museum, which should be quite interesting in a city with the seafaring history of this place.
More later!
Monday, December 06, 2004
Rijsttafel
You're detecting a trend.
Is there more to this trip than food?
No.
Well, yes, but the food and drink seem to accompany most other things, and it serves as a good anchor for trying to describe what we're doing here.
So, last night, after returning from Emmen, Cathy and I and Gerry and Christina were joined by John, a friend of theirs and ours who we met at SXSW in Austin some years ago, and his girlfriend Sorcha (pronounced Circa), who is from Dublin, and we went out to share an Indonesian feast they call Rijsttafel, or Rice Table. The place was very nice, elegant, manned by Indonesian folks who, I must say, it was very surprising and interesting to see speaking Dutch. Funny, the same goes for kids--it always amuses me to see children speaking another language.
The table was filled with small bowls of Indonesian food, like the famed and lauded beef randang made dear to me at Java Noodles in Austin, along with rice and wine and beer. It was a magnificent spread, and every single dish was unique and laid out in increasing levels of heat and spiciness. The beef randang, you Austinites will be happy to know, was almost exactly like the one served at Java Noodles, and the rest of it was equally fascinating and delicious. Stir-fried pork in chile sauce, spicy lamb, some veggie salads, a hard-boiled egg encrusted in something and bathed in red sauce (which was AMAZING), chicken, everything, all fantastic.
Tonight, apparently, John and Gerry and I are having a boys' night out, going to the Paradiso to see the Kings of Leon, a band that's getting quite a buzz over here. The Paradiso is one of the premier venues in Europe, and I'm very excited to see it. Cathy, also is very excited for me to see it, as it will provide she and Christina with some time to sit and talk without me hanging about. So, much to report tomorrow, though it may not happen tomorrow, as early in the morning we end our time in the Netherlands and head off to Portugal.
(Thanks for all your comments so far, and Hilary, thanks for the dog updates, they make Cathy and me very happy and at ease.)
You're detecting a trend.
Is there more to this trip than food?
No.
Well, yes, but the food and drink seem to accompany most other things, and it serves as a good anchor for trying to describe what we're doing here.
So, last night, after returning from Emmen, Cathy and I and Gerry and Christina were joined by John, a friend of theirs and ours who we met at SXSW in Austin some years ago, and his girlfriend Sorcha (pronounced Circa), who is from Dublin, and we went out to share an Indonesian feast they call Rijsttafel, or Rice Table. The place was very nice, elegant, manned by Indonesian folks who, I must say, it was very surprising and interesting to see speaking Dutch. Funny, the same goes for kids--it always amuses me to see children speaking another language.
The table was filled with small bowls of Indonesian food, like the famed and lauded beef randang made dear to me at Java Noodles in Austin, along with rice and wine and beer. It was a magnificent spread, and every single dish was unique and laid out in increasing levels of heat and spiciness. The beef randang, you Austinites will be happy to know, was almost exactly like the one served at Java Noodles, and the rest of it was equally fascinating and delicious. Stir-fried pork in chile sauce, spicy lamb, some veggie salads, a hard-boiled egg encrusted in something and bathed in red sauce (which was AMAZING), chicken, everything, all fantastic.
Tonight, apparently, John and Gerry and I are having a boys' night out, going to the Paradiso to see the Kings of Leon, a band that's getting quite a buzz over here. The Paradiso is one of the premier venues in Europe, and I'm very excited to see it. Cathy, also is very excited for me to see it, as it will provide she and Christina with some time to sit and talk without me hanging about. So, much to report tomorrow, though it may not happen tomorrow, as early in the morning we end our time in the Netherlands and head off to Portugal.
(Thanks for all your comments so far, and Hilary, thanks for the dog updates, they make Cathy and me very happy and at ease.)
A Night In Emmen
One of the things we were very much looking forward to on this first leg of our trip was to see Luit and Marian, a wonderful couple we met while on our honeymoon in Vietnam back in 2001. They live in Emmen, a small city northeast of Amsterdam, and we planned to take a train out to see them and spend a night up there. It turned out to be a fantastic evening.
The train ride out was very nice, the countryside here green and full of fat and happy cows and horses, canals separating one pasture from the next, the brick houses enveloped in fog and mist, a gorgeous pastoral. We got there without a hitch (nice to feel like we know what we're doing), and they picked us up at the train station. They were exactly as we remembered, she very tall and blonde and stunning, the archetypal Dutch girl, and he also very tall, head shaven, rectangular spectacles. They drove us to their house in the vacation-home area of town, a gorgeous bungalow that was done very modern inside, a sprawling Japanese garden in the backyard that they'd just made the year before. Fantastic place. We sat down in their living room and started talking and drinking coffee and looking at photos and talking some more, having a very nice time.
Luit is an artist, a painter (representing the movement of Toysim, a Dutch manifesto-based art movement that has about 6 active participants right now), and he currently has a show hanging in San Antonio, TX, which is apparently going very well. We talked about art and our respective cultures and political situations (SSOOOOO much to talk about there!) and coffee turned to beer turned to wine and cheese and sausage and we were looking at paintings and talking about everything under the sun.
Marian had been preparing dinner for all that day and part of the preceding day, and it turned out to be just perfect, a multi-course affair from different sections of SE Asia. We started with spring rolls and a peanut soup with veggies and chicken which was better than any similar thing I've eaten. After that, we had fish done in garlic and ginger, reminding us very much of our visit to Hoi An in Vietnam, served with rice, and followed by a Thai curry of chicken and green beans, just fantastic. Dessert was this brilliant dome of chocolate cake, hollowed out and filled with ice cream. Wow. These Dutchies are trying to fatten us up, some sort of Hansel and Gretl plot, I'm sure.
After dinner we talked and talked some more, and by the time we made our way to bed we had been at the eating and drinking and talking for a good 12 hours. We loved every minute of it.
The next day we strolled through Emmen proper, taking a look at Luit's studio, seeing from the outside the biggest zoo in Europe, and talking over a couple coffees. They were on their way to Marian's parents' home for Sinterklaas, so they dropped us at the train station and said good-bye (3 kisses on the cheek, one then the other then the other again, in the Dutch style, which I love) and they left. Very nice time.
Side note: This Sinterklaas thing is a very strange turn on Santa Claus. Sinterklaas comes in from Spain on a boat, some time in November, and then he travels the Netherlands for the next few weeks, accompanied by his Zwarte Pieters (Black Peters), a group of helpers, made up in black face, who shimmy down chimneys and either leave gifts or take nasty children away and back to Spain with them. They leave carrots in their shoes the night before, for Sinterklaas's horse, much like our plates of cookies. It's all very similar, except that it happens on 12/5, and somehow I think the Black Peters would not fly in the U.S., and that our elves let us feel better about the servant's role they play. Very funny to see, walking the streets of Amsterdam, the occasional actor done up in black face, in some sort of Shakespearean garb, acting the part of Black Peter. We saw a few stumble out of a pub, quite drunk and happy.
Also, Sinterklaas and Christmas are separate, the former being about the exchange of gifts, and the latter being about--imagine this--the actual religious holiday. The two are distinct, the one not polluting the other, which seems to me a great idea.
One of the things we were very much looking forward to on this first leg of our trip was to see Luit and Marian, a wonderful couple we met while on our honeymoon in Vietnam back in 2001. They live in Emmen, a small city northeast of Amsterdam, and we planned to take a train out to see them and spend a night up there. It turned out to be a fantastic evening.
The train ride out was very nice, the countryside here green and full of fat and happy cows and horses, canals separating one pasture from the next, the brick houses enveloped in fog and mist, a gorgeous pastoral. We got there without a hitch (nice to feel like we know what we're doing), and they picked us up at the train station. They were exactly as we remembered, she very tall and blonde and stunning, the archetypal Dutch girl, and he also very tall, head shaven, rectangular spectacles. They drove us to their house in the vacation-home area of town, a gorgeous bungalow that was done very modern inside, a sprawling Japanese garden in the backyard that they'd just made the year before. Fantastic place. We sat down in their living room and started talking and drinking coffee and looking at photos and talking some more, having a very nice time.
Luit is an artist, a painter (representing the movement of Toysim, a Dutch manifesto-based art movement that has about 6 active participants right now), and he currently has a show hanging in San Antonio, TX, which is apparently going very well. We talked about art and our respective cultures and political situations (SSOOOOO much to talk about there!) and coffee turned to beer turned to wine and cheese and sausage and we were looking at paintings and talking about everything under the sun.
Marian had been preparing dinner for all that day and part of the preceding day, and it turned out to be just perfect, a multi-course affair from different sections of SE Asia. We started with spring rolls and a peanut soup with veggies and chicken which was better than any similar thing I've eaten. After that, we had fish done in garlic and ginger, reminding us very much of our visit to Hoi An in Vietnam, served with rice, and followed by a Thai curry of chicken and green beans, just fantastic. Dessert was this brilliant dome of chocolate cake, hollowed out and filled with ice cream. Wow. These Dutchies are trying to fatten us up, some sort of Hansel and Gretl plot, I'm sure.
After dinner we talked and talked some more, and by the time we made our way to bed we had been at the eating and drinking and talking for a good 12 hours. We loved every minute of it.
The next day we strolled through Emmen proper, taking a look at Luit's studio, seeing from the outside the biggest zoo in Europe, and talking over a couple coffees. They were on their way to Marian's parents' home for Sinterklaas, so they dropped us at the train station and said good-bye (3 kisses on the cheek, one then the other then the other again, in the Dutch style, which I love) and they left. Very nice time.
Side note: This Sinterklaas thing is a very strange turn on Santa Claus. Sinterklaas comes in from Spain on a boat, some time in November, and then he travels the Netherlands for the next few weeks, accompanied by his Zwarte Pieters (Black Peters), a group of helpers, made up in black face, who shimmy down chimneys and either leave gifts or take nasty children away and back to Spain with them. They leave carrots in their shoes the night before, for Sinterklaas's horse, much like our plates of cookies. It's all very similar, except that it happens on 12/5, and somehow I think the Black Peters would not fly in the U.S., and that our elves let us feel better about the servant's role they play. Very funny to see, walking the streets of Amsterdam, the occasional actor done up in black face, in some sort of Shakespearean garb, acting the part of Black Peter. We saw a few stumble out of a pub, quite drunk and happy.
Also, Sinterklaas and Christmas are separate, the former being about the exchange of gifts, and the latter being about--imagine this--the actual religious holiday. The two are distinct, the one not polluting the other, which seems to me a great idea.
Sunday, December 05, 2004
A Reclineable Feast
Last night, Cathy, Gerry, and Christina and I went to a place called The Supper Club for dinner. Oddest, most interesting dining experience perhapsever. We'd heard about this place, but were not really prepared for what it was all about.
After cycling through town to a district near our hosts' home, me on a big clattery Amsterdam rig with a rack over the back wheel, which is where Cathy got to sit, not entirely enjoying herself but not behaving TOO badly, we entered off an alley and were immediately immersed in an obscenely trendy joint, whisked up stairs, coats checked, through a bar and upstairs to a 'table.' The place had the layout of a club, a large open floor downstairs with stairs going up on either side, a long row of tables on the balconies running the length of the floor. No chairs, though, just large bed-like cushions loaded with pillows and some small steel tables placed at intervals on the cushions.
We'd be eating lying down.
(If only Thanksgiving were like this!)
When we got our table and, well, laid all around it, our waiter, an absolutely flaming young man with shaved head, full sleeve tattoos and an unidentifiable accent, came and flopped into the cushions next to us and took our order. He brought beer and water to start--the menu we had no choice on. 5 courses and we chose to not have him tell us so the whole meal would be a surprise. And it was. In many ways.
Cheers all around as the tables around us began to fill. We ended up quite cozy with the tables next to us--after all, we're essentially all lying in bed together drinking and listening to some chill club music (a DJ had a full setup downstairs, and a video guy manned projectors and spotlights upstairs).
We started with some sort of foccacia, a crisp bread topped with dainty salad greens, a sort of amazingly delicious prosciutto drizzled with a rich creamy sauce. No silver--we were brought rubber gloves to eat it with. Again, I couldn't help but think of Thanksgiving. The foccacia and beer were followed by a bottle of red wine and a soup, some sort of bisque of squash or pumpkin with tiny prawns, absolutely delicious, served in a small water glass. So you drink it. Of course. Then more wine and, to help digestion perhaps, a full-on drag show. He-she regaled us in full finery with a tasteful selection of Whitney Houston numbers, the climax of which was accompanied by a tantrum on the bar downstairs where she threw glass after glass to the floor, shattering in all directions, to the massive applause of everyone in the room. It was really quite spectacular.
We resumed our repose and were then served more wine and a fish course, which was a filet of something done in a butter sauce until even the thin skin was crispy and delicious, presented atop a bed of some sort of cabbage, also infused with butter and wine, a rich and filling tiny plate of food. This time, we had silverware to use. Everyone around us was now full into the experience, lounging and laughing and drinking and smoking and making nice with those lying next to them from different groups. I couldn't help but think how odd this whole thing was, how totally indulgent and over the top, yet how fun. More wine, then, and another drag show preceding the main course, this time a not-so-wonderful turn through some Madonna faves by a "singer" who I'm not convinced was not cheating, her being perhaps an actual woman. Funny how that was disappointing.
More wine, and the food: a breast of duck in a wine reduction, served over a thick cream-potato something, again eaten with fork and knife, which is no small trick when you are lying down. We were stuffed, absolutely filled to the gills with food and wine, and so the final drag show of the evening was lost on us, until we got our dessert, a mousse of some sort served also in a glass with a utensil made of crisp pastry and chocolate. Magnificent.
After the dinner was done (which wasn't until quite a bit after midnight, the whole meal having taken over 4 hours) we attempted to move the party downstairs to the basement club, but the crowd was so thick, the movement and heat so unavoidable, that we, being old and lame, made our way back through and out the door, waving goodbye to our waiter and heading out into the night. We stopped off at a very nice pub for a nightcap, then dragged our swollen bellies home to bed. A night that I sincerely doubt I will ever duplicate, but a night that I will also never forget.
Last night, Cathy, Gerry, and Christina and I went to a place called The Supper Club for dinner. Oddest, most interesting dining experience perhapsever. We'd heard about this place, but were not really prepared for what it was all about.
After cycling through town to a district near our hosts' home, me on a big clattery Amsterdam rig with a rack over the back wheel, which is where Cathy got to sit, not entirely enjoying herself but not behaving TOO badly, we entered off an alley and were immediately immersed in an obscenely trendy joint, whisked up stairs, coats checked, through a bar and upstairs to a 'table.' The place had the layout of a club, a large open floor downstairs with stairs going up on either side, a long row of tables on the balconies running the length of the floor. No chairs, though, just large bed-like cushions loaded with pillows and some small steel tables placed at intervals on the cushions.
We'd be eating lying down.
(If only Thanksgiving were like this!)
When we got our table and, well, laid all around it, our waiter, an absolutely flaming young man with shaved head, full sleeve tattoos and an unidentifiable accent, came and flopped into the cushions next to us and took our order. He brought beer and water to start--the menu we had no choice on. 5 courses and we chose to not have him tell us so the whole meal would be a surprise. And it was. In many ways.
Cheers all around as the tables around us began to fill. We ended up quite cozy with the tables next to us--after all, we're essentially all lying in bed together drinking and listening to some chill club music (a DJ had a full setup downstairs, and a video guy manned projectors and spotlights upstairs).
We started with some sort of foccacia, a crisp bread topped with dainty salad greens, a sort of amazingly delicious prosciutto drizzled with a rich creamy sauce. No silver--we were brought rubber gloves to eat it with. Again, I couldn't help but think of Thanksgiving. The foccacia and beer were followed by a bottle of red wine and a soup, some sort of bisque of squash or pumpkin with tiny prawns, absolutely delicious, served in a small water glass. So you drink it. Of course. Then more wine and, to help digestion perhaps, a full-on drag show. He-she regaled us in full finery with a tasteful selection of Whitney Houston numbers, the climax of which was accompanied by a tantrum on the bar downstairs where she threw glass after glass to the floor, shattering in all directions, to the massive applause of everyone in the room. It was really quite spectacular.
We resumed our repose and were then served more wine and a fish course, which was a filet of something done in a butter sauce until even the thin skin was crispy and delicious, presented atop a bed of some sort of cabbage, also infused with butter and wine, a rich and filling tiny plate of food. This time, we had silverware to use. Everyone around us was now full into the experience, lounging and laughing and drinking and smoking and making nice with those lying next to them from different groups. I couldn't help but think how odd this whole thing was, how totally indulgent and over the top, yet how fun. More wine, then, and another drag show preceding the main course, this time a not-so-wonderful turn through some Madonna faves by a "singer" who I'm not convinced was not cheating, her being perhaps an actual woman. Funny how that was disappointing.
More wine, and the food: a breast of duck in a wine reduction, served over a thick cream-potato something, again eaten with fork and knife, which is no small trick when you are lying down. We were stuffed, absolutely filled to the gills with food and wine, and so the final drag show of the evening was lost on us, until we got our dessert, a mousse of some sort served also in a glass with a utensil made of crisp pastry and chocolate. Magnificent.
After the dinner was done (which wasn't until quite a bit after midnight, the whole meal having taken over 4 hours) we attempted to move the party downstairs to the basement club, but the crowd was so thick, the movement and heat so unavoidable, that we, being old and lame, made our way back through and out the door, waving goodbye to our waiter and heading out into the night. We stopped off at a very nice pub for a nightcap, then dragged our swollen bellies home to bed. A night that I sincerely doubt I will ever duplicate, but a night that I will also never forget.
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