Iceland, Again

 We just couldn't get enough of Iceland, and the way our tickets were booked, we could take a 4-day layover in Reykjavik for no extra charge ... so we did! No rental car this time, we just spent time in town. Science nerds that we are, we spent an entire day at Perlan (earth-science museum), and also hit the museum for the northern lights, Icelandic history, maritime museum, and a lava show. That still left us plenty of time to just walk around town and enjoy food and drink, and even a bit of shopping -- where else could we count on getting super-warm wool clothing? Here's just a quick sampling of photos from the "land of fire and ice."

  

Duoro Valley, Portugal

 Porto was so amazing, it was difficult to imagine what could top that experience. We shouldn’t have doubted. Another of the wonderful black Mercedeses glided us inland (and uphill) to the Duoro Valley wine country. 135 km inland, over 1000- meter high mountains. About 1-1/2 hours drive but a whole ‘nother environment. The light is different, the air is sweet. They’ve been growing olives and wine grapes here since Roman times. According to our driver, Portuguese writer Miguel Torga described this area as a “geological poem.”

Duoro Valley overview, from the high point of our drive. It was cool and foggy when we left Porto, but just like in Colorado the weather became completely different on the other side of the mountains.

 

Breakfast

 I miss our Galeon peeps every day ... but not for breakfast! Sydney has been genius about finding us hotels that include breakfast, from local Icelandic Skyr (yogurt) fresh fruit and smoked salmon, to a full-on English breakfast in London, to this delish pastries and champagne in Portugal. Compare that with the El Galeon self-serve breakfast of cold cereal or instant oatmeal (the latter specially for us by request) or a panini press to make your own ham-and-cheese sandwiches, coffee or tea ... and be ready to work at 08:30. For all of that, we’re planning to work again in two months next summer when they need English speakers; and at the same time we’re appreciating our vacation travels!

 

Porto, Portugal -- A Statue, Two Museums, and a Bookstore

 We had far more opportunities to dig into culture in Porto than we had time, so we picked our top three. First up was this bookstore (you who know us well, know that we generally manage to visit a bookstore in every port, but this one, the “Livraria Lello,” was unusually famous. It was said to be where the inspiration for "Harry Potter" came from. Those words made for tourist magnets all over England when we were there, and apparently here also. The next day we got tickets to go inside. It truly was a pretty bookstore; and we learned they’re backing off the Harry Potter association, though the damage may well have already been done. Got away for less than 100 euros (unusual for us at a bookstore, I know, but we’re continuing our cruising tradition of going to local independent bookstores and buying books about the places we visit.) This trip netted us books about the great Lisbon earthquake of 1755; Portuguese navigators in the renaissance; a picture book about the gorgeous blue-and-white tiles we found all over Portugal; and Michelle Obama’s latest. And a couple of selfies…

Author friends: this is the famous bookstore where Rowling is said to have gotten the inspiration for the Harry Potter series. People line up and buy a ticket just to go inside! I wish you the same for any bookstore that carries your books. (And yes, we’re going too, but not right now, and the price of the ticket can be applied toward a book purchase.)

Porto, Portugal -- We Were Absolutely Smitten

 We were absolutely smitten by Porto. Not in an I-could-see-us-living-here way, but just in a deep appreciation for the unique vibe way. I'm sure part of it had to do with our location -- Sydney has a true gift for finding perfect-size hotels in great locations, this one right on a pedestrian mall and walkable to everything. The weather, think "Seattle" -- cool and moist, though we had sunny days as well. It was touristy, yes, but also, just ... right. I was fascinated by the tiles and the street scenes: 

Leiria, Portugal -- A Glimpse of Ordinary Life

 Our next city wasn't about tourism so much as it was seeing some longtime friends. Though there was some tourism anyway, Portugal is a lovely and varied country and its hard to avoid seeing beauty everywhere. Over the years we'd run into C and K aboard our respective boats from Nova Scotia to Florida and places in between. A few years ago they decided to retire from cruising and seek their next adventure -- living in Europe for a while, maybe forever. We'd had similar European dreams, though ours kept getting pushed back as we opted instead for one more year on Cinderella and the Spanish tall ships. At this time they had been living in Portugal for about a year and a half, and they invited us to spend a few days hanging out and seeing their new land-based lives.

Packed up our suitcases and headed to the train station. The train that arrived (10 minutes late) reminded me of trains I’d been on as a kid. Hey, the train was old enough that it could have been running first when I was a kid! As we struggled to lift the heavy suitcases up the narrow steps I found myself wishing for one of the professional drivers in the black Mercedes that had so smoothly whisked us away in other cities. But then we wouldn’t have met the kind taxi driver who helped us figure out which track the train would come on, or the French fellow passenger who would miss his own connection due to the late train but still took time to help translate for us, as well as lift the heaviest of our 3 bags. Minutes after we arrived at our hotel (and yes, finally there was a black Mercedes involved after all) C and K showed up. By happy coincidence it was C's birthday and we enjoyed a lovely birthday lunch along with meeting some of their new friends. We went back to their apartment afterwards; filled with light and a mix of new ikea furniture and treasured old things from before their boating days. Coincidentally their apartment was just a few blocks from our hotel — with a whole city to have chosen from this seemed an incredible stroke of luck. And finally a long convo with our waiter at dinner about … many things, but a lot about the situation of being in a small relatively poor country with too many pensioners to support from too few young workers, a situation we’re facing on both sides of the Atlantic. All in all, a full and auspicious first day in this city. 

The birthday lunch (C and K are in the middle). "We don't describe ourselves as expats," one said. "Expats implies we're in this transient state away from our real country. We're trying to remember we're immigrants, and Portugal is our new home." Note the backdrop of a wall of wine bottles; many of our pictures of restaurant meals in Portugal have the "wall of wine" in back.

We did a lot of ordinary things with our friends, visited the grocery store and the department store, walked through the public park where families were picnicking. We visited the nearby smaller and more historic town of Alcobaca.

Random buildings; check out the hand painted tiling details just below the roof!

Cod (“bacalhao”) and potatoes in a particularly lovely presentation. A very common combo in Portugal. 

Another beautiful street (alley?) scene with a castle on a hill…

Main municipal building; can you imagine having to go **here** to pay your water bill?

 

 

 Even so, the town of Leiria did have a castle, and we went to see it. 

We took the "elevator" to the top of the hill to enter the park. (1 euro)

A small amount of our friend's sister's ashes are spread near this peaceful spot. 

Most Americans get only 2-3 weeks of vacation total. Us, at the end of almost 5 months were complaining that we “only” had two weeks of vacation left. England was nice and all, but we’ve seriously fallen in love with the Iberian Peninsula. When I posted that thought on social media, one of my European friends commented, "I love how you consider the work on El Galeon as vacation." I replied that it’s a “vacation” from our everyday lives! New people, new places, new outlooks. That’s not to say that El Galeon isn’t work, that we try to do diligently in sometimes uncomfortable conditions. But a drastic change from ordinary life is a mental reset just like a real vacation lounging on the beach is.

Current situation: sunny day; flowering tree; castle on the hill; cold beer. Life on the Iberian Peninsula continues to be very very appealing.

Nazaré, Portugal

 Annnnd… on to Portugal. Just a quick trip from neighboring Spain. Much as we'd enjoyed it, we were anxious for some cooler weather. But our airport arrival experience was a misadventure worthy of our friend Denisa who writes about her travel snafus with wry humour: we somehow got directed into the line to get our passports stamped to exit the EU; fortunately the agent spoke excellent English and figured out that we were in the wrong lane before we ended up in the country illegally. After reclaiming what are now 3 suitcases (first trip in my life where I needed an extra bag to come home with. Of course, 5 months, temperature ranges from 0 degrees C in Iceland to 40 degrees C in Sevilla; foul weather sailing gear and pirate costume as well ordinary clothes and El Galeon polo shirts and jackets for work days, plus the antique nautical instruments from Whitby, and now my ceramic tile and a steadily-growing collection of fridge magnets, meant we weren’t exactly traveling light) we were met by a man in a suit holding a sign with our names on it and whisked away in a black Mercedes (for real! How cool, like a movie!) to our hotel. 

Our first stop was along the coast. Nazaré was a small fishing village, now summer vacation spot and location of legendary giant waves for surfing. No big waves the day we visited (I had been hoping for some leftover hurricane swell maybe?) but a really heavy salt spray mist in the air. Spoken Portuguese sounds a little like Russian to my ears and I definitely underestimated how uncomfortable I would feel not knowing any of the local language beyond a few politeness words. Between google translate, playing charades, pointing, and taking cues from other people we managed to get a couple of tuna, cheese, and tomato toasted sandwiches ("tosta atun com tomate" delicious for 4€ each) and a couple of beers.

A “living museum” along the waterfront promenade. This line of traditional fishing boats, they used to put lanterns in the back and go out at night with nets to fish (signs in front of each boat gave specific details; the last one in the row is the lifeboat)

Recreation of the area where the women would dry the fish in the sun (and the smell was … noticeable)

A rather elaborate sand castle. The artist who created it was nowhere in sight, but trustingly left a discrete cup for donations. 

Life's uncertain -- eat dessert first! Our first breakfast buffet in Portugal at our hotel.

This next batch of photos came from what may have been the best tour I’ve ever taken in my life. Our guide, Fabio, talked more about culture than about “seeing the sights.” Hard to distill into a few sentences the upshot of 4 hours of conversation but I’ll try. There was a common theme of respect in his descriptions: generations of fisherfolk going to sea in small open boats respecting the oceans power (and some regulation to keep the bounty from being overfished as we had seen in other places); respect for tradition, in everything from the decoration of houses (painted white on the exterior to reflect the sun and keep it cool and fresh, blue trim acknowledging their lives are tied to the sea, and wavy terra cotta tile roofs to drain off the rain and circulate air to keep the mold at bay) to good luck charms; respect for elders and family and taking time for coffee and visits and conversation; respect for the environment. He told of some fun traditions like the women wearing big patterned skirts while they waited on shore so their fisherman husbands could recognize them from a distance coming home from the sea. He talked of drying fish in the sun, and of leaving your door open so your neighbours could drop by for a visit any time. He talked of young people moving to the big towns to work and coming home to the town on weekends or holidays to enjoy the slower pace of life with their grandparents.

One thing that made this great: he **wasn’t** a regular tour guide for Nazaré. He’s a lifelong resident who loves this country, but he didn’t have a tour “planned and canned.” He admitted that this was his first time doing a tour in this city because he usually does tours for Lisbon and we worked out together what to focus on. There was a personalization and authenticity and vulnerability to his tour (as well as shared laughter about aspects of guiding tours that are true no matter what and where you are, as one professional to another).

Where the giant waves are found in winter time. These weren’t giant but weren’t tiny either.

This art, in the shape of the bow of a candil boat, made of UN-recyclable plastic (mostly fishing nets and line) to suggest a wave.

Mural on the side of a school.

Our fabulous guide Fabio pointing something out to Jaye

The old church on top of the hill.

View down to the town from the top of the hill.

Medieval town of Obidos — in times of siege, the whole town could fit inside the castle/fortress on top of the hill. (Just like our beloved Castillo de San Marcos in St Augustine.)

Olives!!

Statue in a roundabout, a stylized nod to the traditional skirts, which supposedly were worn with 7 petticoats.

We got back to the hotel and later strolled down to the beach. We found the street closed; I don’t know if there’s a festival but there are LOTS of people strolling the pavement along the beach. This guy busking; I thought it was for the statue pose alone but when I put coins in his jug he made a mechanized display of “coming to life” and offered me the cup in his hand filled with tightly rolled papers. I chose one and unrolled it to read my fortune. Thanx to google translate: “You only succeed tomorrow if you don’t give up today.”

This perfect statue pose alone would have been worth the couple of euros I threw in his cup ...

... then he very mechanically got "activated" and offered me a choice of fortunes.

We decided to take a taxi back up the hill to the church we visited yesterday with Fabio to have a coffee on the plaza and peoplewatch; then walk back down. Taxi driver spoke neither English nor Spanish, but Jaye showed him the route on the phone and Dan made a “praying hands” gesture and he smiled and nodded and off we went. We enjoyed a perfect morning snack (though again by pointing and gesturing; tried to use google translate but the coffee shop was in an old building with thick stone walls and a tile roof so no signal inside). Afterwards it was time to walk down and yikes!!! The footpath was paved with stones that had been worn shiny from feet — and my shoes also are worn shiny, making a slippery road. Still, it was beautiful as we made it slowly down hand in hand. Now for a bit of rest before going out for lunch. There’s a beer with my name on it… 

Sevilla, Spain -- Tile

 So much of Spain (and we would later learn, Portugal) uses tile for a building material. Easy to see why -- strong, durable, insect- and water-resistant, varied and beautiful. So for a little different adventure Sydney scheduled us for a private session learning about, and hand-painting, a ceramic tile. Both Spain and Portugal have long ceramic traditions, evolving from Roman times when it was mosaics (images made of tiny bits). When we had our kitchen design/remodeling business, Jaye splurged on a high-end tile cutting tool partly because it was made in Spain and we assumed the Spanish had the most know-how to make a good tool. It was indeed good and over the years more than earned us back its higher cost in easy and accurate cutting. I meticulously hand-painted a tile which was then fired in the kiln (called “low-temperature” at only 1000 degrees Celsius). This piece took a little over two hours for a newbie. So imagine what it would take for these gorgeous tiles found on our walks around Sevilla! 

Before the kiln. The tile is basically terracotta; The glaze is finely powdered glass suspended in water. And fascinatingly the lines between the colours is a kind of oil—because oil and water don’t mix it will serve as a kind of barrier to keep the glazes from running into each other during firing. 

painting the oil on the lines to keep the colours separate

painting the sections with finely powdered glass suspended in water; it would melt and fuse in the kiln. 

With artist/teacher Beatrix. She was full of great suggestions. Helped me visualize what the colours would turn out like, as they would become darker and richer after firing. She also suggested some style choices. I originally had brown only on the diamond in the center; she encouraged adding it at the corners as well -- "You can't have a lonely colour in there," was how she put it.

The final product! You can see how much deeper and richer the colors became after firing; especially the brown and the blue. You can also see how the oil that separated the colors burned away. And how wavery the surface is due to my fledgling technique. But I love it; it and its memories will have a prominent place on display in our kitchen at home. Oh if only I could have had enough to tile an entire backsplash of these! 

And here are some photos of tile around Sevilla. 

After our tile-painting morning we stopped for lunch at this simple, fairly humble restaurant, "Las Golondrinas" means "The Swallows." In Spanish culture, and even more commonly in Portugal, (where they are called "andorinha") swallows symbolize home, family, loyalty, and love. They are often seen as a protective charm and a harbinger of good luck, especially with the return of spring. Swallows are also associated with the concept of a safe return and a desire for one's homeland. Its association with these values is rooted in the swallow's unique behavior of returning to the same nest year after year and its tendency to mate for life. For sailors, a swallow tattoo traditionally symbolizes experience, safe return home, and a successful voyage. It's often associated with the completion of a certain number of nautical miles at sea, with one swallow representing 5,000 miles and two representing 10,000. Some also believe that a swallow tattoo would carry a sailor's soul to heaven if they drowned at sea. So when we saw the name we just had to go there! 

The restaurant didn't look like that much from outside but we later learned it was a favorite of our friends at the Foundation.

The upstairs dining room had a riot of tile and color.

Once we were sensitized to it we started seeing painted tile patterns everywhere. This is the floor of our hotel lobby.