Portuguese particularities

As my time here in Portugal draws precipitously to a close, I am caught reflecting on all those little things that make a culture particular, and the steeping oneself in it inescapable for the understanding of it. So, besides the fact that the majority of the people with whom we most coincided were Brasilian immigrants, I am left with a decidedly happy memory of Portugal. In general, people are helpful, and, if not gregariously friendly, at least pleasantly polite. Of course, there is the horrificly closed accent of the north that renders certain words and phrases virtually unintelligible to the untrained ear, but, that is likely true of any insular community in any country.

Friday was spent at the ocean, in Aveiro with Juli, Kristina and Matt. This was the kind of beach experience that evoked summers in Miramar, replete with an escollera (still don´t know what you call these in Portuguese), boardwalk and colorful balneario tents in clusters along the water´s edge extending back to the comercial peatonal of chintzy taiwanese goods, available in any and every beach town on earth, I think. We met with their language teacher, Ana Rita, and had another marvelously spectacularly mediocre meal. The company, of course, made it all worth while, and the abundance of food for such a minimal price perhaps can allow us to forgive its lack of real flavor. Perhaps. Sara and I were joking that we are all still dreaming of the Mexican meal that I cooked at Francisco´s, as it was the best meal we ate all month. Ah yes. The simple pleasures of meals with rice and french fries on one plate. So, back to the particularities of the Portuguese, the things that guidebooks might be wont to include as they are not necessarily flattering, but which to me, make the experience that much more robust.

So, beyond the hyper-starchification of meals, and the lack of bone removal from fish, there are a few things upon which I would like to comment. First: movie theaters. Fascinating custom, indeed. When you buy a ticket at the university theater (and I am told at commercial theaters, though I have no first-hand knowledge of such) for a film, you must select your exact seat within the theater. Second: bathrooms. Much like in Mexico, toilets apparently are not built to accept hygenic paper, and it is instead deposited in overflowing wastebaskets to the side. (We can all guess that I commited regular acts of treason by not following this custom, as I likewise resist in Mexico). As experienced in Argentina, many toilets are accompanied by bidets, but the actual toilets (especially public ones) are liberated of actual toilet seats. Third: restaurants. Ok, this is perhaps the most disconcerting of all habits, and the most inexplicable. In restaurants, regardless of how many people there are, or how many actual menus, in which of the many languages spoken at the table, you will almost never receive the number of menus as people. At times there will be two to three for a table of 6, and others, only a single menu for the entire table. This inconvenience, however doesn´t stop the waitstaff from becoming annoyed that your entire table has not decided with some immediacy. With regards to things like bread, olives, butters, and patés, they are placed on the table, and then removed if not eaten, but are charged separately (an important thing to know) at .30€ a piece of bread or pat of butter as a general rule. The cheese that I have tried, thus far, is horrendous and not worth trying again, but the vinhos de casa are almost always extremely inexpensive and quite good. The gorjeta, propina, pourboire, tip etc... is not at all common, and the Portuguese wiuth whom I have eaten insist that it is simply not given. As my upbringing and internal monologue won´t permit me this grave inconsideration, it has come to pass that one leaves 1 or 2€ maximum, regardless of the amount of food consumed or the hours spent (as we shamefully left a few euro tip after 3 hours on the ribeiro of Porto´s rio Douro).

Oporto, vinho doce, is a marvelously pleasant particularity, and Kristina and I went to the Krohn Cavas (leaving Juli, Matthieu and Sara behind to enjoy the afternoon sun). I learned, in addition to the different processes of fermentation and bottling of the different types of Port wine (vintage will keep improving ad infinitum, because of its lack of oxidation, and must be set upright 24 hours before opening, opened an hour before drinking, and consumed in its entirety within 2 days whereas Colheitas are the only wines whose date is a "real" date, and which stop aging and improving upon bottling, but will maintain their bouquet and qualities for years with no diminishing in quality, and which can be opened--and absolutely not refrigerated in the case of reds and absolutely refrigerated in the case of whites-- and enjoyed over a course of 7 to 8 months) that vinho do Porto doesn´t indeed come from the name of the town O Porto, but rather because the wines which are produced in the Douro river valley some 50 kilometers from the actual city, were stored on the Gaia side, by the port because the Cavas could A) be there without paying land taxes, and B) the wind pattern was such that it kept that part of the river at a temperate and thus propitious for wine storing climate. Women would sell the wine, perched in baskets on their heads and shoulders calling out, «vinho doce, quem quer vinho doce?» and once it began being tasted, people asked where it came from and they said, from over their, over by the port, hence, the name, vinho do porto.

Now, it is off to receive my "diploma", and then on to Lisboa with Kristina and Sara. Kirsten will arrive tomorrow and we shall hit the pavement with a vengeance. Meanwhile, along with Juli´s friend Josefine who we picked up when she flew from Amsterdam to Porto, we had our last multi hour hurrah on the Mondego at the Italian restaurant that has seen more of our collective money than any other establishment in the city. We met a group of interesting Brazilian sociologist/ economists, had drinks on the dock and returned for dinner at the Italian place, before m oving to our final resting place at the cafe on Quebra Costas where our friend, and beer festival beer supplier, Daniel met up to say a final goodbye.