Today’s major activities were a trip to the National Tile Museum, the Tropical Botanical Garden, and a Food & Fado tour. Our first stop was breakfast at the café across the street. Again, kind of unnecessarily complicated breakfast items. Still, not bad. I had a combo with eggs, yogurt, toast, and croissant. We dubbed our uber ride to the tile museum “crazy taxi.”
Tile Museum
The tile museum was mildly interesting. The blue and white style on the tile was apparently influenced by Portugal’s contact with Japan and China. After a period of time, there was a “return to color” where, as the phrase would imply, the tile became more colorful. The kids and I had a great time with a depiction of Baby Jesus who was absolutely *jacked.* His abs and biceps were insane. That led to a debate about whether he was juicing or if the Almighty could get that kind of look without any gear. Also, because Harper has previously clued us into how tough it is to draw hands, we were poised to focus on that when looking at various pieces. There was one person who looked to have a palsy of some sort. What can I say? We know how to have a good time!
Jacked Jesus. All natty, no gear.
Hands are hard.
Tropical Garden
Having become properly cultured in our knowledge of tile, we took another car to Belem. Our original intent was to see the palace, but it’s only open one day a week, and this wasn’t it. Instead, we went to the nearby Lisbon Tropical Botanical Garden. The garden had a lot of peacocks and there was an expo in the 40s focused on Portugal’s connection to the Orient, and there was a special section devoted to that.
Strolling down the Boulevard
On the whole, I guess the place struck me as sort of run down. But it occurred to me that the parts of Portugal where I have been, especially in Lisbon, have been what I think of as the “right kind of shabby.” Enough to be interesting and not sterile. But not so much that you think the place is unloved or dangerous. The metaphor probably isn’t great, but it puts me in mind of the vitality you find in mutts. That’s not intended as condescending at all. I think it’s a great energy. We learned on our river cruise that the government owns the shoreline of the river. I figure this is a mixed blessing – if the government doesn’t have the resources, the areas can be underutilized or left to deteriorate. On the other hand, it means the areas are open to the public and not walled off for private estates or bland resorts.
After the garden, we stopped at Pasteis de Belem, the OG pasteis de nata shop. Its history is tied into the nearby Jeronimos monastery. I haven’t had a bad pasteis de nata, so I can’t say that this was an order of magnitude better than the others or anything; but definitely worth a stop. We ate them at an adjacent park with some confusing exercise equipment. The kids were getting goofy pretending to exercise. But, exercise we did!
The kids getting in their reps.
We were a little sick of Ubers by this point, so we started on the long hike back to the Airbnb. But we took plenty of breaks on the way. The first stop was in the commercial area where we’d eaten sushi the night before. We snacked on some chips and guac. Unfortunately they didn’t have any Super Bock or Sagres; so it was Heineken for Cole and I. Amy and Harper went with fruity and refreshing: apple spritz and strawberry daquiri. After that, the walk was along a fairly busy street and – if I’m honest – that part of it was not very enjoyable. Our second stop was at a little corner kiosk with tables which, I’m happy to report, had Sagres. The rest of the walk was mostly uphill through the Alfama neighborhood. By the time we got home, we were more than ready for a break.
The “Solitaire” display at the Museum of Art, Architecture, and Technology along the Tagus riverfront.
Sagres Stop!
Food & Fado
Following some rest, we rallied for our “Food & Fado” tour. We met up with our tour guide who took us through some Fado related areas in the Mouraria and Alfama neighborhoods. Fado isn’t the blues, but I think it sort of occupies the cultural space in Portugal that the blues do in the U.S.
One of the interesting things our guide discussed was about how fado started life as this colorful, decadent sort of art form brought in by sailors. When Salazar took over Portugal, the color and decadence were contrary to his sensibilities. He couldn’t fully suppress the form, so he coopted it; creating designated spaces for fado and an expectation that singers would cover up and wear dark colors.
Amalia: Queen of Fado
In our group was a family originally from New York who were sort of out of central casting. Dad at least (maybe others) had moved to Florida. Son had studied computer science, worked for Facebook, and was in a start up in San Francisco. Not sure about mom and daughter. But their metrics for success were a little different than my family’s. More of a high-flying east coast focus. I think they were maybe a little perplexed by our family’s relative lack of ambition. Also in our group were two sisters, older ladies from Los Angeles who had been on a cruise in Spain and the Mediterranean.
After walking for a bit and learning about prominent figures in fado history, we stopped at what the Internet seems to call Ginginha da Alice. It was an apartment door that opened up into the street where, after receiving a call that we were there, Alice put up a small card table and served up some ginginha in edible chocolate shot glasses. It was fantastic and, I believe, the biggest reason that Amy picked this tour for us.
Go ask Alice, I think she’ll know.
Eventually, we made it to the restaurant. I can’t recall exactly what we ate, but there were few courses: bread and appetizers, a main course with a lot of meats – steak, pork, cod, ham – as well as some chips and rice. In between the courses were sets of fado. The singers were a grandmother and granddaughter pair who would switch off. I sort of got the impression that the backing guitars (one standard, one Portuguese) were also family members, but I’m not entirely sure. At the end, grandmother and granddaughter did a set together. I probably won’t be putting a lot of fado on my Spotify playlist, but it was pleasant, soulful, and impressive.
After dinner, Amy attempted to help the L.A. sisters get their Uber situation sorted out. One of the sisters was having a terrible time trying to get her app to recognize what city she was in.
But, eventually we said our goodbyes. It was after 11 by the time we got home – a fortunately short walk and down hill. We had had a full day.
Singing sweet and soulful.
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