Fado

Carafe of red wine: 17 euros
Vegetable soup: 6 euros
My total check at the restaurant: PRICEY

So, I had reservations at this restaurant last night that featured fado (I'll tell you what this means in a minute). And I thought I the dinner was prix fixe. As I sat down, they immediately poured me a glass of pre-dinner port (when in Rome...). Another waiter whisked over a tray of first courses. There were some huge boiled prawn that I selected. Then I had soup and a steak course. Turns out the prawns were 39 euros (around 55 bucks!!). I only ate 3 of them...they were very hard to peel and not that great. Anyway, my modest meal turned out to be almost $150 with tip. If it weren't for the fado, I would have been very pissed.

Fado apparently originated in Portugal, and it's not that complicated. Just unique. In the restaurant, there will just occasionally be a singer in the middle of it, singing tunes that the non-tourists all know. Then there are dancers (like Russian square dancing sorta. Plus lots of twirling skirts and clapping.) Then there are musicians. But mostly singers. It was very enjoyable to soak in the culture. I must admit, that at one point, the male singer was singing so loud and over-the-top and weird, that it seemed like a Will Ferrell skit, but the crowd ate it up. I went early in the evening, and apparently all of the numbers were very traditional (so lots of crowd participation if you knew what was going on. I didn't.). OH--and apparently, Richard and Pat Nixon used to come to this restaurent whenever in Portugal.

Now let's discuss the picture at the top. The kid looked exactly like a 10-year old Owen Wilson, which I initally thought to be cute. I changed my mind in 5 minutes, for he would not stop turning around and staring directly at me and my table. I mean sure, I had my pants off, and I was picking my nose a lot, and kept yelling, "Hey, kid! Look!!", but still. No, seriously, it was very weird. I was about to yell at little Owen, when I heard his Dad order for the table: "a bottle of dry white wine...and ze boi vill have appul jus." And the Dad looked just like the villain in one of the Die Hard movies. Germans, huh? So, Owen probably wasn't the best name, so I thought of him as Hans. It's 24 hours later, and I still have no idea what was so fascinating about me or my table. I mean I didn't have any silver skates or anything.

But enough of that.

Lisbon is really great, although the language here really tops it all. It is such a melting pot of language and dialect. I will have to post a separate entry just on that. Suffice to say, I'm hard at work learning Portuguese.

So Lisbon is very bustling and interesting, so I made a decision to stay here for 3 more days, and skip Valencia, Spain. Instead, I will leave here Wednesday night on another all-night train (uggh) to Barcelona, and pick up my friend Stacy on Friday morning, before we drive to Monte Carlo. Anne and Sybil have both suggested a stop at Eze Village on the French Riviera on the way back, so we're definitely going to try to do that. Ho hum.

All right, tonight is the big night on the town. I've been here 15 days, and I haven't yet sampled the night life. The real night life. So, I took a long nap late afternoon/early evening, and I'm ready to go. My concierge (always tip your concierge big the first day, and they will take care of you) has me dinner reservations at 11:00, bar reservations at midnight, and then on the guest list for a late-night club, which I will go to around 1:30. Pray for me.

Boa noite! (Good night in Portuges. I especially like "good day/good morning". It's "Bom Dia".)

-S