Ferias do Verão...

Well, for me at least, the summer holidays are over. Just as Portugal is entering its yearly period of torpor (seemingly the whole country is ‘fechado’ for the month of August) I am starting back at work after two weeks spent reading, visiting the country and generally avoiding anything that might be construed as ‘useful’ or ‘improving’.

The holiday in fact started rather hectically, S and I had been invited to a barbeque thrown by our new good friends ‘the boys from Brazil’ (TBFB from now on) in their wonderful apartment near São João cemetery. TBFB are in rather a nifty band who are undergoing somewhat of a radical change. In an attempt to gain a larger audience they have begun to sing in English and they had enlisted my help to write some songs in English and develop an authentic English accent whilst singing them. I think on both counts we were much more successful than any could have imagined and as such we had become good friends. I had previously been to one of their barbeques which was mightily impressive. Their apartment is amazing with an absolutely amazing terrace at the back, complete with lemon trees, the fruit from which went into many a Caipiroska. F’s picanha skills are immense and so these parties are inevitably lots of fun.

The Friday in question (the 24^th) was particularly hectic, it being the last day of work and coming, as is typical, with that usual dragging feeling that anticipation of holidays brings. I was this night, however, due to provide the music at TBFB’s barbeque and so after many coffees and pick me ups I lugged my DJ gear over to the flat and proceeded to amaze all those gathered with my disk spinning skills. I slipped in a few Brazilian classics along with the typical indie fare and some unusual additions and I think I played the crowd pretty well. The night ended with some acoustic singalongs and invitations for TBFB to come and sample my famous Arroz de Pato (duck rice) on Tuesday.

Saturday, as has been the habit of the past couple of months, was the day devoted to the beach. We have become fans of the Costa da Caparica which is a bit of a change for S who was originally an Estoril girl. The beaches of the Costa are much better though, cleaner, bigger and less crowded (in fact a visit yesterday to a beach in Estoril to see friends showed just what a meat market it is, the bodies looked like a butcher’s shop). The big problem with the Costa is the journey although this problem is somewhat psychological – the trip takes you over the bridge but if timed well it really isn’t much longer than that to Estoril and it’s well worth the extra time. The beach this Saturday was fun but the weather wasn’t as warm as it had been and the sea especially was pretty chilly, I only took a couple of dips myself when usually you can’t get me out of there.

After the raucous nights out of previous weeks, combined with plans for the Sunday, meant that Saturday night was spent relatively quietly.

Sunday brought an overnight trip to Porto to see our friend X defend her thesis (that me and S had helped quite a bit on) at the University of Porto. At some point I will have to dedicate a separate post to the joys of Porto but here I will just say a few important things about Portugal’s second city.

I am in love with Porto, I think most cities have an essence that is immediately apparent to those visiting them (after living in a place for a while you begin to take some of that essence into yourself and give a little back to the communal essence) and the essence of Porto is one of relaxed self assurance, a ‘coolness’ if you will.

Porto is the essential counterpoint to Lisbon in the way that Manchester is to London in the UK (and so many other ‘second cities’ must be in their respective countries). The people are more friendly and outgoing (qualities that although not absent in Lisbon are so noticeably unorthodox that I have heard, on a number of occasions, people from Porto called rude) and there is an unselfconsciousness that is seen in the far greater freedom with which people act and dress. There is much more of an apparent and obvious alternative culture in Porto.

I often remark that the Portuguese, for all their charm, are in general still quite socially conservative, and this expresses itself perfectly in the way in which the youth dress. Here in Lisbon there is much more of a ‘middle of the road’ attitude where between the ages of 15-30 in most social groups people dress, if not identically, within certain social bounds. (The great example of this being that when the weather is cooler –Spring and Autumn – 90% of girls in that age group will be sporting the mysteriously ‘fashionable’ combo of skinny jeans and hiking boots.) This is not to say that Lisbon is not without it’s ‘fringe’ but it is to say that this is much smaller than you might experience in the UK and much less obvious than that in Porto. There is also a feeling that Porto is much more of a forward thinking city than Lisbon, something again linked to that ‘second city’ inferiority complex perhaps, but I digress…

I have much more to say about Porto, not least my addiction to their regional dish - the francesinha, but it will have to wait for a separate post. I will leave the subject of Porto by just saying that X’s defence went extremely well and we enjoyed our brief visit immensely. It was too short but I hope to visit Porto again soon.

Tuesday was spent cleaning the flat and preparing for the visit of TBFB who were going to be leaving for Brazil shortly and to whom I wanted to say goodbye. An entertaining night was had and my dish (Arroz de Pato) went down very well, as did S’s sangria, for which she is getting quite a reputation! TBFB will be moving to London soon so I have no doubt that our paths will cross again but it was quite sad to see them go. As a leaving gift we got a full rendition of the songs I had helped the guys perfect and I really feel quite proud of the work we’ve done together.

Wednesday was the day we left for our main holiday, a week in the countryside, in a tiny village called Alqueve which is half way between Coimbra and Serra de Estrela. It was a week with S’s family and we had an excellent time with trips in the battered 2CV that S’s uncle keeps there. We had a week of S’s mum’s amazing cooking as well a couple of pies from me which S loves and the others politely eat (a little exaggeration here, they all loved the cheese and onion one).

I discovered the thrill and joy of running in the mountains, which is ten times harder than the streets of Lisbon but infinitely more beautiful. I developed a little route which took me above the village (which is perched on the side of a steep, forested, hill) and then through the village, usually to the cheers of the villagers who seemed amused by the crazy foreigner. You have to bare in mind here that most of these villagers are over 60 (many over 80) and are fitter than anyone I've met before.

The week was very welcome but by the end I was glad to return to civilisation.

Back to the grindstone now though.