Ups and Downs of Lisbon (or) Escadinhas

My family spreads rumors that I exaggerate. I want to dispel that rumor  so I thought today's blog should be about the escadinhas (stairs) that we climb as part of our routine each and ever day. You have heard my whining about sore calf muscles and a stressed heart, but now..THE PROOF!

There are many routes that we can take from our flat, but as to the stairs, well, they are all about the same. What follows is one way down. Not an exaggeration...not a lie. THE REAL THING!!!

the stairs begin near our flat

not a leisurely stroll

I've thought of counting the exact number of steps that we take each day (sometimes multiple times), but instead I am just hoping to notice extra room where my clothes had once been too tight. I mean all this exercise should give some results! If I could only give up my daily pastel de nata and multiple cervejas (sigh).

Along the way scattered apartments dot the stairways, often with the day's laundry drying quickly with the gentle breezes. Each day we pass the home of uma velha (an old woman) who one day called out to us "Olá meu amigos".  She is at the half way point of our trek and I am hoping she one day invites us in for a cold drink.

The walls in Lisbon, like in other cities, can not seem to escape graffiti art, the images and lettering scratched, scrawled and painted using a variety of colorful aerosol paints. Some depictions are definitely better than others. This particular one found on our route brings a smile to my face each day.

Finally, we reach the bottom where we usually reward ourselves with a bica (an expresso) and just sometimes, a little pastry. But, what goes down in our case, must go up again if we are to reach our home and so far, we have managed to accomplish this each day. Not bad for dois velhos. (two old folks.)

My love for Bacalhau

Tuesday, August 24

Today we celebrate our one week anniversary being in Lisboa, one of the most beautiful places in the  world.

As of this morning, I swore I would never eat Bacalhau, the iconic ingredient of Portuguese cuisine. We have seen it everywhere, large slabs of unappetizing looking dried, salted fish that lay stacked in great numbers on tables both in markets and large grocery stores. There is almost no food that I won't try. I have consumed without hesitation morcilla (sausage stuffed with pig's blood, rice, onions and spices.), tripe (the rubbery lining of an animal's stomach), frogs legs, chocolate bugs, and yes, all parts of a pig. Bring it on, I always say. But Bacalhau???? Well, the thing is, it looks intimidating! Okay, so before I lose the few followers I have, let me tell you all that I was wrong...very, very wrong.

The story: This morning we had the pleasure of going to the Universidade Nova de Lisboa to meet Antonio Granado, the professor whose class Steve will be teaching. He is a bright and engaging man who showed us classrooms and other parts of the journalism building. It was all wonderful and I am sure you will be hearing more about it on Steve's blog. But, my blog, remember, focuses on the food. So...

We decided to "take a coffee", uma bica (an expresso),  and got onto the subject of food with Antonio. (but of course.) When I told him I probably would not be trying Bacalhau he looked at me as if I were crazy. I asked him if it was something good and he just smiled, nodded and smiled some more. It was as if there were no words to describe, but by the look on his face...you just KNEW. He told us it was a wonderful thing to eat and we had to eat this! I trusted this man! We rushed off to lunch to find my cod!

Near to our house in the Praça Rossio, one can find a number of outdoor restaurants and cafes. It would be unusual for a restaurant to not have bacahlau in some form on it's menu. We decided to share bacalhau assado (roasted cod), a very delicious plate of thick, moist fish with tiny pieces of crispy garlic and large roasted potatoes in olive oil.  We would have taken a picture, but we ate it so fast, we forgot! It was great!!! (thank you Antonio!) I learned there are over 1000 recipes for this fish so when we returned home, I spent the next two hours researching how to transform these ugly dried slabs into wonderful tasty dishes. Tomorrow I will head to the market, ask the fishmonger to slice me up some dried cod, soak it for 24-36 hours (remembering to change the water often) and I will cook us up bacalhau that any Portuguese would be happy to eat. At least I hope! 

Anyway, for now, Boia Noite. I need to dream about cod!

Sunday morning in Graça

Today was our day to explore another neighborhood in this beautiful city. We chose Graça.  When we first saw the hill to reach this area we looked at one another, gasped, and trudged on. I am not sure this photo shows the incredible steepness, but believe me, the incline is harsh. I will say the climbing is getting a little easier. We will see tomorrow if my calves punish me again.
The Graça quarter, which lies on a hill northeast of the Castelo de Sao Jorge, is a very interesting and lively part of the city. At the turn of the century many houses were built here for the families of workers. The facades, some extremely narrow, give an indication of the cramped living conditions to be found inside.

Igreja Paroquial da Graça

It is Sunday...a day for mass at the Igreja Paroquial da Graça. I stepped in for a brief look at the mass in progress, but being the good Jew that I am, I started to feel the guilt for being in the wrong place of worship. Wait, I am a heathen, so the guilt I was feeling was promising Steve we would get a coffee right away and not following through. The church sits beside a  miradouro (scenic view), a popular spot in Graça where people sit at a cafe tables under full pine trees enjoying the spectacular view of the castle.

miradouro

lemon cake

Steve and I enjoyed a cappucino and yes, a pastry that resembled a moist lemon cake.
We decided that this would definitely be the spot where we would get early morning coffee and bring our visitors from the states. There are 20 different ways to order coffee here and by the time we leave we will be experts.
Athough most shops in Lisbon are closed on Sundays, there was both a mercado (grocery) and a pastelaria (bakery) where we bought fresh sardines and of course, 6 pastel de natas. REALLY, I was only going to buy 4, but the grocer told me in portuguese that I could get 6 for 4 euros. WHAT A DEAL!!!

Tonight  I beheaded and cleaned, then grilled sardines.

I am getting good at this Portuguese stuff!

Boa Noite

My first week in Lisbon

Wednesday, August 18

I am 60 years old.  My name is Ellyn and I reside in Lisbon Portugal… at least for the next four months. My neighbor is the Castelo Sao Jorge, and it will be my protector and guide when I am lost among the many winding dead-end streets.  I need only look up to find my way home. I am a blessed, kept woman, married to a very brilliant man who has been awarded a Distinguished Fulbright Chair and I am happy to be along for the ride. Anyone who would like to learn about the Fulbright organization can follow his blog at http://stevedoig.com. Leaving our condo in Tempe, Arizona, was an easy thing to do. We love where we live, but a chance to live in a place with a history older than 100 years is an opportunity too hard to give up.

My diary/blog is VERY loosely inspired by “Eat, Pray, Love”. However, my musings will mostly be about Eat, Eat, Eat and oh, yeah -- Eat and a little bit of “love” thrown in.  Steve and I are both foodies and I am not embarrassed to admit that enjoying the typical foods of regions around the world is my favorite part of traveling. The “pray” part will be my looking up to whatever supreme being there is and praying that I can once again make it up to my apartment, which is a difficult (to say the least) hike up to the highest point in Lisbon.

We arrived tired, but soon became too excited to try to make up for the 24 hours of lost sleep. Our beautiful Fulbright host, Otilia, treated us to a wonderful lunch. I ate tender pig’s cheeks in a warm, buttery gravy, rocket salad with ruby red strawberries and soft rolls with queso fresca, which is somewhat like ricotta cheese (but better!). Spread on bread with a little salt and pepper makes a tasty accompaniment to an otherwise perfect meal. After our bellies were full, we were handed off to Carla, a Fulbright assistant who patiently walked us through getting a bank account and securing other needed documents.

Moving in to our beautiful apartment was pretty uneventful except for schlepping four large duffel bags (each weighing 60 pounds) up a short flight of stairs. The place is beautiful (http://travellingtolisbon.com, apartment 56) and there is plenty of room for all our things (including my 15 pair of ballet style flats, which are totally useless on cobblestone streets). I am trying to master walking in flip -flops.  (Steve thinks this is an accident waiting to happen, but I forgot my sneakers….really!) After doing minimal grocery shopping, we stopped for some grilled sardines that were as large as carps, felt sated and headed once again up the hill.
 Our first night ended after walking to an outside café overlooking the Tagus River, drinking beer and listening to fado, a form of music characterized by mournful tunes and lyrics, often about the sea or the life of the poor.  Since hearing it, I have this incredible urge to start dancing alone in the streets in some dream-like state. I will let you all know if this actually occurs before I leave. Maybe with enough beer or wine…..

Thursday, August 19

pastel de nata

I am on Day 2 and already I have calves of steel and have lost 30 pounds. No, that can’t be right. Just today I consumed 3 beers (it is very hot!!!), leitao porco (roasted suckling pig), and a most delicious pastry called  pastel de nata, a Portuguese egg tart pastry that is to die for.  I plan on consuming many of these over the next four months.  (Did I say I had lost weight?????).  The day was long, hot and tiring and I need sustenance!

We decided to do a tourist thing and take one of those double-decker buses around the city. (Poor choice!)  We were on the top level of the bus in blistering heat (Steve is badly sunburned) and I dreamed of getting off to have yet another cold beer. (By the way, I have never before been a beer drinker.)  After a not-so-great tour we disembarked and headed to Tram 28, which would take us to the bottom of the hill leading to our apartment.

TRAM 28. I cannot possibly sign off before relating this experience. San Francisco-like cable cars, but NOT. There doesn’t seem to be any weight limit as dozens of people board this tram heading toward the castle. Narrow streets with tracks SHARED by oncoming trains makes this a harrowing experience. I managed to grab a seat, not realizing it was reserved for old and infirm people. I tried not looking into the eyes of the short, stocky gray-haired women who vied for my seat. I was tired…VERY TIRED AND HOT!! I thought about letting my dyed hair grow out quickly, revealing my gray hair and perhaps allowing me to get these choice seats on future rides. After all, I am 60!! I looked at these sturdy women who seemed perfectly suited to ride these wild trains and then my guilt took over. I grudgingly gave up the coveted seat and stood next to Steve and hung on for dear life. These trains are not meant for long-legged Amazonian women! But we made it home. After an ice-cold shower we called it a day and watched from our patio the setting sun and the beautiful Tagus, and listened to the sounds of Fado echoing throughout the city. I am a very lucky and tired lady

For now….boa noite!
One final note: I apologize from the get-go for misspellings, grammatical errors and any mistakes relating to Portuguese life. These will be my ramblings…out there for any of my friends and loved ones to enjoy…if they wish.

Friday, August 20

The day’s accomplishments:

•    ATM and Banking
•    Monthly metro and bus pass
•    Learning the metro and bus system and riding each
•    Finding yet another place to eat roasted suckling pig (okay…so they are baby pigs, but killing for eating isn’t bad, is it?)

Things I have learned today:

•    Walking up a hill stresses your heart. Therefore, due to family history…I will soon be dead
•    Walking down hills cause hideously painful calves. These will not feel better after two or three days of using these muscles. Drugs do not help; enormous amounts of beer does nothing. My legs will therefore hurt the remainder of my life. (Which according to the above learned lesson…should not be long.)
•    There is never again a need to travel 10 metro stops to a giant mall which has every known American store and a grocery store…to buy GROCERIES. Argh…it was hideous. I will not again enter a store larger than 150 square feet. Corner markets with limited groceries are definitely my thing!