Thankful

By the times the nano overlords release this post it will be the last day of the year, and I'll be, inshallah, in Zanzibar.  I'm putting off some much needed last minute travel activities to get caught up on some blogging, and in the process also clear up some space on my phone for even more pictures and videos. As should be the case as the year draws to a close I get even more reflective. It's been a long year, and in many ways I won't mourn its passing.  It began with problems in Zanzibar that coincided with the death of my great friend Gary Beatrice, but there were also many wonderful moments along the way. As always I'm most thankful for having my son in my life.  He's a blessing that I know I've never earned.  It was a tough year for him, but also a year where he faced down some challenges and came through even stronger.  He's a much saner, balanced person at thirty than I ever was at that age.  We were able to carve off time on Thanksgiving to get together before he left for work.  I asked him if he wanted to go get a turkey dinner, or whether he'd like a goetta-fueled breakfast or my homage to my mom's faux-Cincinnati chili.  Being Gary, he decided he wanted goetta chili dogs, which are now going to be a tradition. Like his father, apparently he has a talent for creating traditions (thinking back on his invention of Boy's Day when he was a small lad). I love him with all my heart.

And here he is putting the final touches on it: spaghetti on top of the hot dog, and then goetta chili and cheese.  It was not for the weak at heart.

Campo Pequeno

As I am wont to opine, the best travel moments are the most spontaneous and unplanned.  With the obvious exception of seeing my friend Tony on my recent trip to Portugal, the best moment was stumbling across the Campo Pequeno.  I had read about it, of course, but I was busy and didn't put two and two together.  It's the famous, and beautiful, bullfighting ring in Lisbon, and, by sheer happenstance, it was across the street from the conference where I was presenting.  After stopping by the afternoon before the main session to register I was walking back to the, naturally, Campo Pequeno metro station when I spied a building across the street, that looked much like a mosque but also dramatically not much like a mosque, and I crossed the street to investigate.  The building is the Campo Pequeno, the bullfighting ring, and the "look" was not an accident, but rather a reflection of Neo-Arabic architecture that was popular for a while in Portugal in the 19th century. It is still used for bull fights today, although when I was there it was the off-season, but it was open for tours (and it was one of the best 3 euros I ever spent). There are only thirteen bull fights a year there, always on a Thursday evening, and during the off-time they put down a floor and hold concerts or other events.  They can also open the roof. In the basement there's a very posh mall and movie theater, so it's bustling most of the time. Despite my fearsome temper I'm actually a non-violent soul and I don't know if I'd ever attend a bullfighting match, but I suppose you'd have to ask me at that moment. I know I heartily recommend visiting the Campo Pequeno on your next trip to Lisbon.

A classic example of Neo-Arabic architecture, which is what drew me there in the first place.

Christine, my tour guide, who pushed through a nasty cold to give me a first rate tour of the place. I told her about Pemban bullfighting, a distant shadow introduced by the Portuguese, and she was so interested that she googled it during the tour.

This also included taking advantage of the quiet afternoon to take a few swipes at me with the practice bull so that I would work on my craft.

This was the padding on top of the practice bull where initiates learned to avoid the bull while also stabbing it in the hump.

Some of the banderillas on display at the museum.

Here you can get a sense of why the banderilla doesn't come out of the bull.  Interestingly, Christina referred to Portuguese bullfighting as bloodless, and by that she meant that the bulls were not intentionally killed (at least not since 1928) but it's not bloodless like Pemban bullfighting is bloodless.

It all started so well but then the bull got the jump on me and my beautiful day at Campo Pequeno ended, as fitting my life, clumsily.

The museum had a collection of posters promoting decades of bullfighting.

I was fascinated by the furcado who had the job of distracting the bull at the end of the performance.  While there are only about fifty bullfighters in Portugal, about 90% male, there are furcado clubs all over the country.

The furcado are named by, well, the furcado, which is the instrument they use to hold back the bull.

A picture of a furcado in action - and also a metaphor of my decades-long relationship with administration.

The bullring itself.  It hold around 7000 people, with the front row seats running for around 75 euros.  Here the flooring is down in preparation for a Christmas concert.

What Christina referred to as the "nosebleed" seats, which were around 20 euros a piece.  There were also the equivalent of luxury boxes, which housed four to eight people, and are named after famous bullfighters.

The entrance to the posh mall beneath the Campo Pequeno.  Somehow this just seemed to sum up Portugal's complex relationship with its Islamic past.

Tavira

During the Portugal trip I arrived on Friday afternoon (after suffering through a wretched Canada Air Rouge flight and and a hour and a half wait at Customs in Lisbon).  Early the next morning I made my way to the Metro station to begin my journey south to see my friend Tony. They kindly invited me to stay at their lovely home before I took the train back on Sunday afternoon.  On Saturday night we went into the nearby historic town of Tavira which was so beautiful. As I mentioned in the previous post, I have such admiration for Tony and Kathy.  They live such a sane, balanced, purposeful life.

One of the many charming squares in Tavira.

Tony told me that you have to be very careful when you stuck digging in your garden in the area because you never know what you're going to dig up: in this case ruins, some of them centuries old Muslim house and some of them thousands of years old Phoenician buildings.

I took several shots looking from what is called the "Roman Bridge". It's not Roman, but it is very old.  A lovely picture, and I don't even think it's the most beautiful one I took, but this one shows the Christmas decorations in the trees.

The Roman Bridge, replete with Christmas lights.

This picture never quite came together like I wanted it to, but it's still lovely.

A Friend in Portugal

Before I left for my recent trip to Portugal I was talking to someone about my plans, including pointing out that the five days in Lisbon weren't really five days at all because I was going to be heading south. In response to a question of why, I told them that I have a friend in Portugal.  He replied, "Of course you have a friend in Portugal." My rejoinder was the obvious one: "Doesn't everybody have a friend in Portugal?" Everyone should have a friend in Portugal because the Portuguese themselves are such warm and inviting folks, but in this case I have a friend in Portugal because we worked together in Abu Dhabi during my year at Zayed University. We've been casual friends on Facebook for years and when I found out about the Lisbon conference I reached out to him, and he graciously invited me down for a visit. I had to figure out the Portugal Rail website, and kept getting timed out and struggling with my credit cards (including having my absurdly bad local Vermont credit union debit card being shut down), but I persevered and arranged the three and a hour half train ride from Lisbon to Faro in the south. As always, whenever I travel on the European rail system I'm envious of a more civilized society than we have here in the US. It was a wonderful, although much too brief, visit.  I almost missed the return train because we were sitting on his couch gabbing.  His lovely wife Kathy suddenly said, "You know it's 13:08, don't you?" Tony replied, "It can't be!" but of course it was, and my train left at 13:54.  However, despite the mad dash, I made it with a few minutes to spare.  I'm definitely hoping to visit him again sometime soon. Neither of us could believe that we hadn't seen each other in over seven years.

I had never met Tony's wife Kathy before.  She has her own long history in the Middle East so we had a lot to talk about, including remembrances of Yemen and Oman. The house and the grounds are beautiful, which Tony attributes entirely to Kathy's hard work. 

Tony and Kathy refer to their place as the House that Dubai built.   It was a lovely stay, but also a bit of an elegiac one because it reminded me of paths not taken. When I was engaged to the LBG we were looking at places in Croatia with the thought that we'd use our UAE/Hong Kong money to buy a place. Tony is a dear friend of the LBG from their years together in Abu Dhabi so we had a lot of memories to share.

Tony and Kathy own several acres, which are full of olive, almond and orange trees.  Every day starts with a walk around the garden, accompanied by the dog and cats. The dog, Rea, is, quite appropriately, a Portuguese Water Dog.

After the warm-up walk around the garden they drive (this time the dog get some alone time with Tony and Kathy) to one of several parks, in this case a marsh along the ocean.  It was a lovely walk.  I'm so happy for the two of them.  They lead a simple, contented life that all of us should aspire to.

Holiday Season in Lisbon

Over the years I've ended up travelling through a lot of places during the holiday season. I'm not a Christian, but I've always felt an affinity for the season; I mean, how can you be a Dickens fan and not enjoy Christmas?  I remember on one of my first visits to the UAE and being surprised by the decorations (although that's more a sop thrown to the ex-pats) or how odd it was to be in Australia and looking at Christmas decorations in high summer (although Christmas decorations and beautiful Australian women in summer dresses is highly recommended).  On this last trip Lisbon was definitely in its full Christmas finery.  Here's a few pictures.

Delicious Lisbon

Two days ago I returned from my latest trip overseas, this time to present at a conference in Lisbon, Portugal.  One week from today I'm heading back to Africa with twenty students, so I'll have to do a pretty quick jet lag turnaround.  Oddly, my presentation at the conference was very well received, although it was about international education (and I guess I know at least a little bit about that).   This was my third trip to Portugal and I definitely love it there.  It made me wonder why I haven't led a return student trip there.  I'm in the middle of planning my tenth student trip, and that includes three to Zanzibar, three to India (including one with a side trip to Sri Lanka), three to Jordan, and yet I've never thought about repeating the Spain/Portugal Thanksgiving trip I led two years ago. It was easy to plan, worked brilliantly within the framework of the class (Aesthetic Expressions), and worked seamlessly on the ground.  This last trip inspired me to reconsider that mistake and I've already worked out an itinerary for a Thanksgiving holiday trip to Portugal in November 2020. Why Portugal?  There are so many reasons, and I'll get around to them, but at this point I just wanted to post some pictures and jot down some thoughts before they disappear in the chaos of organizing the next trips (Zanzibar next week and India in March).  For now, food.  I stuffed myself in Lisbon. 

When people think of paella they tend to think of Spain only, but Portugal also makes a mean paella.  I don't normally choose one of those restaurants on the main streets in Lisbon (or anywhere) but it was a beautiful day for lunch and people watching.

But Portuguese food is a hell of a lot more than paella.  I ended up going to a little mom and pop places several times, and they featured an absolutely delicious rice and octopus dish.

And, well, if you're going to have octopus, then you should have octopus.  I ended up in another little place down the same side street and ordered an entire grilled octopus served over potatoes.  Apparently ordering octopus is actually a very Christmas thing to do in Portugal, so it fit.  I posted this picture on Facebook and, naturally but inexplicably, many people were horrified by the thought of eating grilled octopus.  Cretins.  It was delicious.

But after saying all that, one of my best "meals" was the latte that I had on the street on one of my last nights.  I had ended up getting lost - not desperately lost, just estimated poorly where I'd end up when I dropped down the hill - and I plopped down along the street and relaxing.  I'm not the type of person who is going to age gracefully, and it truly bothered me that I tire more quickly than I used to and that I suffer through a lot more pain, but all was forgotten with a delicious latte and soaking in the holiday season on the streets of Lisbon.

Pode Ser

One of the things that I wish I would have done a much better job of in the past is more deliberately and carefully record the names of folks I met on my trips around the world. Sometimes I meant to write down their names and didn't, and other times I did record their names but then lost them.  It's a pity because I've met so many wonderful folks overseas. During my recent trip to Portulgal I met Secil Somer, a professor from Turkey who was also presenting at the conference. After the conference we ended up spending the rest of the day together walking around Lisbon, often through the rain, initially because she wanted to visit a church (and I showed her one; it's strange to end up acting as a tour guide in a city that's not yours), but eventually just exploring and talking.  I especially enjoyed our long chat about faith and what it means to be and not to be a Muslim.

Here we had stopped at a little restaurant on the way walking down the hill from St. George's Castle (where we didn't intend to go in the first place). She was heading off the next day to visit Sintra.  I hope she had a marvelous time.