A Portuguese castle born in antiquity, its high life lived in the Middle Ages, in its latest incarnation reinvented as a tourist attraction. History meets Disneyland? It is a beautiful relic, on a wondrous site, a marvel of engineering.
But I’m still not sure what to make of it.
Little alleyways, thrillingly dangerous ramparts, quaint shops and eateries mixed with kitsch and crowded lanes of tourists bused in from all over the world.
How does one decide what it all means? We’ll just have to go back for more visits. If for nothing else but to sip ginjinha (the local tasty sour cherry liqueur) and look out again from the high castle walls to the farms and green countryside stretching out in the distance below.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN! BWA-HA-HA-HA!
I hate what corporate America has done to Halloween.
The ancient Celts, who started the tradition, believed that every October 31 there appeared a tear in the curtain between the worlds of the living and the dead, who were able to slip back through. What began as a way to remember the dead (and acknowledge where we’re all headed) has long been turned into yet another vacuous marketing ploy: ads starting in September, monster push on tacky costumes and Type II diabetes triggering crap — I’m looking at you Candy Corn.
Despite all that, I’d like to pass along a little story I came across for this All Hallow’s Eve.
Some who know me will claim, falsely I must state here, that several places in the story seem suspiciously, nay, creepily like the truth. I beg you not to make that same mistake. It will have dire (I said dire!) consequences.
Join me, won’t you? If you dare, buckle up, hold onto your seat, because here comes the…
Thanks for watching.
And to all on this foreboding All Saint’s Eve, I wish you…a good night?
A quick jaunt through four days with our friends David and Elizabeth; the first of many who come to visit (we hope!)
It’s a little like waking up in an ever-changing world that is strange and yet so familiar. Welcome to every day in Estoril, Portugal.
Sometimes you have to get up close and personal with what you put in your mouth. Suddenly, you appreciate the creatures who sustain your life every single day.
We know where we want to go. We just don’t know how to get there. Which is always half the fun.
We love our friends, George and Nirava; he the skillful driver; she the marvelous gourmet chef. They are spoiling us with great food, wine, and excellent company. The weather here in the fading weeks of September continues to be a succulent feast of its own: Warm, soft days and with the kind of sunlight that beckons painters, poets, and professional lollygaggers such as myself to come out and play.