Portugal: Lisbon and the Lisbon Coast

A brief review of places we visited during our five days in and around Lisbon and the Lisbon Coast.   (For the rest of our Portugal trip in Porto and the Douro Wine Valley, read here.)

CASCAIS

We made Cascais, the coastal resort town west of Lisbon, our home base for the five days.  There we rented a historic apartment on a pedestrian street in the city center which was 80 meters from the beach, next door to a McDonalds (this I did not know in advance), and entirely too close to the Train Station (except on the day we walked out our door and hopped on the train to Lisbon which was a 40 minute ride along the coast and cost 18 euros for the five of us.) If you wonder about garbage collection practices in Portugal, I can confirm that they are on it.  It was my conclusion that all the trash in China was being collected on our street every morning at 6am. 

Cascais

Offering beaches over culture, Cascais is really a sprawling suburb of Lisbon with several sand beaches intermixed with cliff like shoreline and countless resorts (directions are given with resorts as land marks).   The cobbled street Center reflects the wealth that is forcing its way into Cascais with trinkets and trash next door to designer boutiques.   The boardwalk from Cascais to Estoril is a lovely place to walk or run, and because we were there in April the gorgeous beaches were empty enough to serve as a soccer pitch most mornings and several evenings.     

Eating: Mar do Infermo for a killer seafood platter (sea bream, mussels, three kinds of shrimp); House of Wonders for a rooftop vegetarian lunch (the kids inhaled a vegetable lasagna and mushroom tofu pasta); Moules & Gin for a fun if not formulaic casual modern bistro serving mussels a dozen different ways; Armazen22 for a Brazilian steak dinner (surprisingly a nice change up from our fishy ways), our favorite: Dom Diniz for an unforgettable evening of they-just-bring-em tapas (flaming chorizo, cold cod salad, stuffed mushrooms, etc.) in a tiny two table deli restaurant.   It’s not gourmet, chef-prepared stuff just good eats in what feels like someone’s living room.  A bottle of red wine – any from the Douro valley – is mandatory with all dinners.  Reservations a must for every place but House of Wonders.   We topped off every meal with gelato at Santini Cascais (the one with the reputation and long lines) or on the same block Gelateria Italiana Fabio (the one with the great service and our new friend Phillip.)

Dom Diniz

LISBON

I shudder to tell you this, but I did not love Lisbon.  Granted we were there only one full day and we took a second afternoon to explore Belem (an outlying neighborhood of Lisbon.)  With that kind of limited time I realize that one’s reaction to a place is so dependent on the walking path they choose for that day.  Then again, Brett walked the same path I did and He LOVED Lisbon.  It is therefore possible that I was hormonal or wearing the wrong shoes.

Lisbon

We knew our walking path would involve San Francisco like hills (which we enjoyed), and we oriented ourselves toward the humble and compact Alfama quarter which all the guidebooks said not to miss.  There we did find windy streets and great views, but mostly we saw a lot of poverty in the middle of a gentrifying construction zone on steroids.  We felt like uncomfortable voyeurs with a camera.   Castelo de Sao Jorge, the hilltop citadel used as a royal residence and then arms depot, was worth the price of admission for the views of the city.  Tram28 – the “must do” for all tourists – was good for those who don’t mind being packed in like sardines and can clutch their purse at the same time they are enjoying the blocked views.  I watched a pickpocketing scheme unfold with a woman and a 6 year old boy on the tram that made my heart ache so much that I couldn’t wait to get off.   Brett thought the tram was awesome.  Clearly it can’t be just my shoes.  

Waterfront promenade in Ribeira

I did like the Chiado neighborhood and area around Comercio Square, Lisbon's monumental riverside.  We didn’t have time to see Fado, the music of Lisbon, but there was quite a bit of live music (always fun) playing on the streets of Baixa and Chiado.  The waterfront promenade in Ribeira to the west of Comercio Square is being built up and is quite a lovely place to be on a nice evening.  There they have a beverage kiosk where you can get something to sip on and take to sit down in some chairs looking out over the water.   We saw another one of these beverage kiosks (a great idea) in Praça Luíz de Camões .  We oft heard Lisbon described as the new Barcelona, just a few years behind in development.   Apparently I also prefer older, more developed cities.

You do have to see the outlying neighborhood of Belem for several worthwhile sites (the Monument to the Discoveries and the elevator up it for views is great) and well-connected parks, just save your eating for in town.  We attempted a stop at the Pasteis de Belem – the pastry shop on the Rua de Belem that people make a pilgrimage to Lisbon for – but the queue was so long and complicated plus I made the mistake of saying “custard” when describing the pastries to my boys and they were certain “custard was not worth waiting for.”  We did however hit the Confeitaria National, a pastry shop on the busy Praça da Figueira that’s been around since 1829 (in Baixa), and we buffet styled Portugese pastries and every version of chocolate cake they had.

Eating:  Turns out I’m a sucker for any restaurant with the menu written on a chalkboard.   I had read about Taberna Da Rua Das Flores (in the Baixa Chiado neighborhood and very close to the train station) on a food blog and knew this was where we’d be eating if we had only one dinner in Lisbon.   We sampled more than half of the small plates on chalkboard – Portuguese fare with a twist of something unexpected – while locals popped their head in to buy bottles of their house olive oil.  The pacing of the meal was a bit slow as dishes came out one by one, but each dish also deserved to be the center of the table.  Aside from the fried goat cheese with special sauces, we had to elbow the boys to get our fair share.

SINTRA

Castelo dos Mouros

I’m losing steam on this blog, so here’s what you need to know:  Sintra Rocks.  We spent two days there.  The first day we spent hiking from the main city center straight up 2 kilometers to the Castelo dos Mouros, a Moorish castle.  Different than any other castle we’ve seen, this castle is beautifully built into the landscape.  You can climb along the jagged battlements and up a handful of towers for some absolutely breathtaking views.  Because it’s harder to access, there are fewer tourists and it’s a great spot to bring a picnic lunch.   Brett deemed it one of his top 5 most spectacular (and certainly unexpected) spots in our travels.

Palacio da Pena

The next day we came back and drove up past the castle to the Palacio da Pena which is a palace and enclosed park.  Tour buses let off here and you will queue for tickets.  The exterior of the palace is Disneyland-like in its grandeur and the interior has been preserved from when the last royal family lived there in 1910.   We especially enjoyed hiking, both on footpaths and hiking trails, in the 495 acre walled park with its lush vegetation and fine collection of trees.  This time we remembered our picnic.

OBIDOS

Obidos

The day we headed back North to the Douro Valley, we stopped off in Obidos and Nazare on the way.  Obidos is one of those preserved hilltowns enclosed within 14th century walls.  It’s beautiful and built for tourists.  Like a smaller Assisi in Italy, Obidos is not only a day trip destination but also set up with hotels, a pasada (guest house) set in a Castle, and restaurants for overnight visitors.  They are also a couple of cool bookstores.  I kept thinking that there must be a strong homeowners association in Obidos.  In addition to be swept clean, there was a uniformity of blue, red, and yellow paint blocks on all the white washed buildings.  And green thumb of not, you will be expected to have potted plants hanging from your window.

NAZARE

Nazare

Nazare is an old fishing village whose only attraction is a very long beach, and it’s a great one.  It’s a wide and long beach with awesome waves set against the backdrop of steep cliffs.  It’s apparently teaming with tourists in the summer.   The boys played soccer on the beach while I went in search of an espresso.   I snapped exactly one picture in Nazare.   The balance of the car ride involved lots of sand and me complaining about the espresso that was causing me a stomach ache.

MOST REPEATED CAR RIDE QUOTE:

Brett:  “Boys, we just passed Peniche.”  Quinn:  “Was it big?”

Update:My Portuguese neighbor Sergio just told that it's impossible to understand Lisbon without being there at night ... which I missed on this trip.  He also said there was some great cherry liqueur I should have tried in Obidos.

Northern Portugal: Porto and Douro Wine Valley

Generally we stay in Airbnb properties when we travel because it’s cheaper for a family and we like the independence that comes with our own space.   Airbnb rentals however don’t make as much sense for short stays as many properties have a three night minimum.   We decided we wanted to tour as much of Portugal via car as we could over our nine Spring Break days pushing us into short stays and therefore hotels on the bookends of our trip.  (We stayed in an adequate though not great Airbnb property in Cascais for the five middle days using it as our home base for touring Lisbon and the Lisbon Coast.  That portion of the trip will follow in a separate blog.)  When we do stay in hotels, Brett labors over finding small boutique ones.  Big hotels are avoided at all cost.  Our kids don’t love that about us (what kid doesn’t like a hotel pool), but we have come to an understanding that “this is how we do it.” 

We flew out of Franfurt-Hahn on the budget Ryan Airlines into Porto, rented a car at the airport, and drove 30 minutes into Porto for a two night stay.  (Note:  Avis runs a friendly, though not turn-key operation in Portugal.  Included in your rental is your salesperson running out to the lot to collect your car, a how to instruction for operating the car (?) and a several minute documentation of the scratches on your Skoda wagon.)  A car is not necessary in Porto as the city is best accessible on foot, but the logistics were easier for renting a car at the airport and leaving it in a city parking garage for 48 hours.   This will take some explaining to your concerned children, but be warned that you should take care of this before departing the car rental as you will be busy navigating at least eight freeway changes from airport to city.

 I admit to coming to Porto with low expectations, saving up my enthusiasm for the second half of the trip in and around Lisbon.  I however was pleasantly surprised by this city perched on a rock gorge above the Douro River mostly because of where we stayed.  I don’t generally write hotel reviews, but the Guest House we stayed in so framed our experience that it deserves an exception.   It is rare to find a place that is luxurious but affordable and where you are treated as family.

You only really need two days in Porto: one day to tour the sites and the second day to tour the Port wine caves across the river.  We only had one full day (Saturday) and a ½ day on Sunday.  Given our traveling configuration with three children and my confession that I don’t care much for Port, we skipped the Port wine caves. 

Hotel Review: Guest House Douro, Porto Portugal

Rates:  130-190 euros/night including breakfast.  Our double occupancy room with river view was 185 euros/night and the triple occupancy room for boys on the same floor with a 13th century street view was 170 euros/night.

Guest House Douro

Basics:  Ranked #1 out of 96 B&Bs in Porto, the simple but classy eight room guest house with magnificent Douro River views has been gutted and gorgeously designed with a modern flare to maximize its space.   It is run by a lovely Portuguese couple, Carmen and Joao, who spent twenty years living and working professionally in Montreal before coming back to Portugal to open this guest house.

View from our room

Location:   As my boys would say:  “The location is beast!”  Guest House Douro is located in Porto's  Unesco World Heritage listed and lively waterfront  Ribeira area.  Waterfront doesn’t always conjure up best images of a place to inhabit after hours, but aside from the noisy seagulls in the morning, the Ribeira promenade is a delightful place to stay.  It offers easy (though steep) access to all the historical monuments, Douro boat tours (we didn’t take go on one but we saw the queue from our window), as well as two solid traditional Portuguese restaurants within a stones throw.  Agrade is the better of two restaurants in terms of food, though next door neighbor Adega xxx (can't remember it's full name) is better in terms of outdoor seating. There are plenty more restaurants to choose from in the area too.  You can see the Vegas-like signs for all the Port wine caves across the river for easy plotting of a foot tour.  There are countless outdoor cafes along the promenade, and the running along the Douro River- the life blood of this port city- is outstanding.  Flat with a wide birth and dotted with early morning fishermen, you can do a long 8 mile out and back run to the Atlantic Ocean in one direction (Brett and Quinn’s direction) or a 4 mile out and back run the other direction (my direction). 

Morning run along Douro

The Room:  The rooms are small, but what it lacks in space is made up for in every other way.  The immaculate rooms are light filled with large French windows that open, wood floors, and a plush bed.  The marble bathrooms have everything you need, which in my case is a shower with good water pressure and big fluffy white towels.  Long and narrow, the Guest House has four floors with two rooms on each floor.  Since we were in two rooms, we had the 4th floor all to ourselves and they encouraged us to utilize the corridor between them for some additional space.  We always need more space for our collection of shoes so we took them up on this offer.  They moved out some furniture to accommodate an extra futon like bed in the boys’ room, which was disguised with equally luxurious linens that made it feel less “third wheel” like.  Everyone was happy.  Especially us in our own room.

Outdoor seating at Adega

Amenities:   They have all the things you’d expect like TV and hi-speed wireless Internet that works, but one small thing I didn’t expect.  Since it’s a Guest House, we were given keys to our room but not the house.  We had to ring the doorbell every time we came back thereby not being anonymous when someone forgot their hat or returned from a sweaty run.  I soon realized this is by design.  The personalized service of Carmen and Joao is what really makes the place.  Joao sets out a mean breakfast spread (included in the room price) with an array of cakes, breads, cheeses, meats, fresh squeezed orange juice and  a fruit sculpture made up of local fruits that I guarantee you won’t be able to finish.  Joao will not let you leave your papaya uneaten.  Carmen mapped out a well-explained, better than any tour guide walking route for us to see all the important sites noting ones (three outstanding churches, including the “gold one”) we should save for Sunday morning.  She made a booking for our first dinner as we arrived late at 9pm (at their favorite restaurant Agrade) and though we made our second dinner reservation (Adega) on our own, she called anyway to make sure we had the best outdoor table.  Port and iced tea were offered on arrival and every time we came back to the Guest House.  I may not be a Port fan or convert, but when in Porto ... you will have Port.  Very few families stay at the Guest House but it is most definitely family friendly.  Carmen and Joao lavished our boys with attention.  (Shy children beware.)  Carmen taught Lawton a little Portuguese and read him a book, and they made a full court press to have Colin stay with them longer.  AND, the best service of all was that they strongly recommended we change our plan for the tail end of our trip which was to spend two days in the coast town of Aveiro and instead spend two days in the Douro Wine valley.  Naturally they recommended a few Pousadas (country inns set in remote, scenic locations) with one favorite recommendation.  We did a quick Google search on the options they gave us and sprinted back downstairs drooling about their strong recommendation.  Carmen helped book us two nights there while Brett canceled our Aveiro lodging.

Casa do Visconde de Chanceleiros

I could write another full review of Casa do Visconde de Chanceleiros, but instead I’ll let the Trip Advisor reviews and my photos tell the story.  Another place with personalized attention that won’t break the bank, but this time set in the countryside where birds not seagulls are nature’s wake up call.  I confessed to not much caring for Port, but the red wines coming out of Douro make me (and the whole country) swoon.  They are outstanding.  We were only at the Casa do Visconde de Chanceleiros for about 36 hours, and aside from a hike through the vineyards, we happily put our Guide Books away and hung out on the terraced grounds of the pousada.  We bounced from swimming pool to game room to soccer on the tennis court and we had two fabulous home cooked dinners there.  Apparently you can train 2 hours from Porto to Pinhao (the nearest town to the pousada), but the drive was also easy and spectacular.   After seven days of city hopping, even with chilly weather, the quiet and beauty of this region was a perfect topper to our trip.  Unlike Porto, we wish we had a day or two longer here.

Bottom Line: If you go to Porto, stay with Carmen and Joao.    AND, don’t miss the Douro Wine Valley! 

Photos from Porto:

Photos from Douro Wine Valley:

Paris: finally a couple of restaurants worth noting

I love Paris, but until recently I haven’t loved Paris restaurants.   Beyond the trifecta of delicious bread, cheese, and wine, most of my Paris food experiences have been rather ho hum.  It’s not been for lack of effort either.  Paris beckons with their lovely outdoor cafes, but the kitchen gives the impression that they are sighing at the thought of having to cook for anyone.  In cities like London and Barcelona on the other hand, restaurants murmur “come hither” from both the curbside and the kitchen.  In these cities there are more choices than time.

I kept thinking I was missing something or that I was deeply influenced by my friend Alice who told me a couple of years ago how disappointed she was with the food on her trip to Paris.  Finally validation came in the form of a NY Times article last week.  In the article “Can Anyone Save French Food” Michael Steinberger explains how and why Paris started serving ordinary, predictable food in the late 90s but how Paris is showing new signs of life with a crop of expat chefs serving up French food with a lighter and seasonal focus. 

The article also helped explain why no one answered my phone call to Abri, a French Japanese restaurant that I’d been reading about and trying to make a lunch reservation at for my March trip to Paris.  Apparently it’s the hardest reservation to get in town.  Spring, another restaurant mentioned in the article, has also been on my list but I landed a reservation at Le 6 Paul Bert before I made it that far.  Also on my restaurant roll is Le Garde Robe, a wine bar serving light snacks that is just around the corner from Spring – both of which are conveniently near the Louvre.  I did a drive/walk by both Spring and Le Garde Robe on my March trip and the curb appeal was most definitely there, especially at Spring where you could see the chefs prepping for dinner in the window.

I had read about Le 6 Paul Bert on David Lebowitz’s blog and also on the Paris Kitchen blog.  They have a terrific lunch “formula” that involves three courses (an appetizer, main, and dessert) for the bargain price of 19 euros.   It’s a tiny, inviting place with what looks like one long dining room table where they pack in pairs of diners (so best suited for parties of 2) with an open kitchen.  Reservations are a must, but I was able to get one the day before.  Lunch time in Paris is 12-2pm and so there is generally only one seating for lunchtime.  Unlike most French food where things are sauced together or decorum takes precedence over flavor, the dishes at Le 6 Paul Bert were fresh, light and nuanced.  For each course, there are only two options which change daily so it’s only a place to go if you are the type of person who welcomes a food adventure.   I had lunch there with my friend Angela, the same friend who sent me the Michael Steinberger article two days after our bistro bonanza.  Angela has sampled a lot more food in Paris than I have, and she would concur that Le 6 Paul Bert was a home run.  Finally.  It was so good that we were the first to arrive and last to leave and we even felt comfortable enough to send our glass of wine back because it tasted funny.  (The replacement glass of wine did not.)  Le 6 Paul Bert is located in the 11th arrondissement which is out of the main touristed areas but is easily accessed by metro.  Food porn + happy Angela post lunch below.

My friend Jannine scouted out the restaurant Pirouette for lunch when we went together in January.  We however were having so much fun on our Paris by Mouth food tour that we missed our lunch reservation.  I passed on the tip to my inlaws when they were visiting in March and they beat all of us to this little gem that opened last year in the 1rst arrondissement near Les Halles.  It’s been written up on all the Paris food blogs and my father-in-law was able to make dinner reservations for a Saturday night on Thursday evening.  (Granted this was March not busy summer time.) 

Here is his review of Piroutte: “Just terrific. You must go. A foody restaurant but not arrogant or overbearing at all. Good English and very friendly. We talked to owner a bit. Lots of great menu choices from a blackboard the waiter goes through very patiently. ( aside – we ate at 7 most nights and I am a fan of that hour, not because we go to bed early. The restaurant may be almost empty but the wait staff has time to be patient with English speakers and the ambiance of other diners picks up a 7:30). We had the 3 course 40 euros choice and it was not too much to eat. We did ask for lighter choices. I had trout appetizer and fish. Annelle had a gnocchi and whole morel mushroom dish in puree spinach sauce. Her main was very good but we have forgotten. Memorable but not memorable. Her dessert was crème brulee and mine was a fancy mix of tasty morsels (best I can do).” 

So there you have it … a couple of restaurants in Paris I (and my father-in-law Dan) can recommend with enthusiasm. 

London's East End Food Tour

Bacon Sandwich at St. John Bread & Wine

Having done a food tour recently in Paris, I’ve realized that a guided walking food tour is one of the best ways to experience a new city.  You’ll never be able to eat through all the places you want to try when visiting a new city, but a food tour can “microwave” some of the best food a city has to offer in less than four hours.  With my second food tour – this time in London -- now under my belt (literally), I’m officially a food tour fan.

In addition to getting small bites of lots of different foods, you don't have to commit to something like a full order of mushy peas if that's not your thing or since you're likely to only want to have English pudding once -- you want that one time to be worth it.  You also don't have to worry about making multiple reservations, paying at the end of the meal -- all things which slow you down when you are trying to see a lot in a new city.  Also if you consider the price of the food tour to be a full lunch + a guided tour, it's really not that expensive.

The food scene in London is off the hook and so there are a number of food tours to choose from.  I decided on the Eating London food tour in the East End as it was a neighborhood I was interested in getting to know better.  Home to Brick Lane and its more than 50 curry shops, previously the Jewish community and now the hipsters and artists, it’s a neighborhood in transition and one that reminded me a lot of Capitol Hill in Seattle.  Different than the Paris by Mouth food tour where we hunted and gathered food (bread, cheese, chocolate, macaroons) and then stopped once in a wine shop to have all our goodies paired with wines, this tour involved eight separate eating stops.  (Both approaches are fun, just different.)  The diversity of the stops illustrates the excitement that’s happening in food in London. 

• St. John Bread & Wine – bacon sandwich (award winning restaurant)
• The English restaurant – bread and butter pudding (historic restaurant)
• Androuet – three English cheeses (run by some French expats)
• Poppies – fish, chips, and mushy peas (Poppy recently won best fish& chips in London)
• Pride of Spitalfields – ale and cider (an old school pub home to the famous cat Lenny)
• Brick Lane’s Aladin – three curries (vegetable, chicken, and lamb curry in increasing degrees of heat)
• Beigel Bake – salted beef bagel (most famous bagel shop this side of Atlantic opened 24/7)
• Pizza East – salted caramel tart and English tea (a hipster hangout where you can’t take photos of the decor)

Upsides:  the food (all of it is good), the quantity of the food (you won’t be hungry for a big dinner), the organization (the company started food tours in Rome, added London’s East End seven months ago, and is soon adding tours in Prague and Amsterdam), the logistics (the restaurants were ready for us at every stop), and exuberance of the guides (there are only two of them doing the East End Food Tour every day but Sunday and they are knowledgeable about the area and food scene), the East End street art (which we got a good tour of as well.)

Downside:  with tour groups of up to 12 people, you will not “blend in” with the hipsters. Doing it solo (my tour was four couples, me and the guide. Bring a friend.)  The exuberance of the guides (occasionally an unnecessary, goofy scripted joke sneaks in.)  You’ll be craving a bacon sandwich the next morning.

Actually I did eat dinner that night… because it’s London and you can’t pass up a dinner.   Brett was working long days the four days I was there, but we were able to meet up for late dinners.  Recommending a restaurant in London is like being asked to pick your top three U2 songs.   There are too many good ones to choose from, but here are three that we really liked for the food and the experience:

1.  NOPI (Soho).  NOPI is Yotam Ottolenghi’s, the author of Jerusalem and Plenty cookbooks, restaurant in Soho.  If you know those cookbooks, you know how unique Ottolenghi’s Middle eastern/Asian cooking is and how beautifully he puts vegetables on center stage.  The food was outstanding; though service was a bit slow.  Pick a day when you have time to linger or aren’t trying to make it to the theater.

 2.  Chor Bizarre (Mayfair). Our favorite Indian in Mayfair.  Come hungry and get the Thali (the sampling of 6 different dishes along with cucumber riata and naan.)  There is a meat and vegetarian Thali.

3.  The Modern Pantry (Clerkenwell).  This modern European restaurant was right across the street from our hotel, but it’s also a destination restaurant.   Seasonal food done really well.

Artists and kettles

Henri Cartier-Bresson, The Pompidou Center PARIS

Often going to a museum is akin to eating my lima beans.  Some people visit museums because they are riveted by art or they experience the world through the lens of history.  I mostly go because I should.  There is of course value in this exposure, but I admit to having to work at it.  I’m the visitor who always opts for the audio guide and rarely knows in advance the famous work I will be seeing. 

More recently however, I’ve chucked the guidebooks and allowed my interests – photography and art from the last 100 years since the First World War - to direct my museum outings.   This is where I stand a better chance of appreciating the creativity of the artist and understanding their cultural context. 

David Bailey, National Portrait Gallery LONDON

This reset has led me to three outstanding exhibits in the past month, two in London and one in Paris.   All three exhibits – pop artist Richard Hamilton, photographer David Bailey, and photojournalist Henri Cartier-Bresson - encompassed an exceptional range of contemporary subjects over a period of many decades.  (All three exhibits run through June 2014.)   I’m not knowledgeable enough to write a proper review of any of them, but thankfully there are people that can and have already done that.  I can tell you however that each one of these left me inspired.   It was like walking through someone’s beautifully illustrated storybook of the modern age.

Richard Hamilton, Tate Modern LONDON

I think of creatives like kettles filled to the brim with water, where the temperature of life causes steam to need to be released.   When that boiling water is then poured out over ground up bits of life, something new blooms.  The finer the grind and the slower the pour, the richer the output.   The creative must filter – leaving words and frames on the cutting room floor – so only the best stuff remains. 

I for one am glad that these three men did not leave their kettle on the burner.  Un-poured-out kettles risk reaching a boiling point where vibrations become louder and eventually sound a whistle.   No one likes the piercing sound of a whistle.  But neither do we all want a sanitized world filled with only automated coffee machines.  We need to record facts, but we also need people who are painstakingly filtering those facts to highlight the unique character of the world we live in.

Henri Cartier-Bresson’s work brilliantly captures this idea of a “decisive moment.”   He once said:  “Composition relies on chance.  I never make calculations.  I perceive a structure and wait for something to happen.  There are no rules.  One should not try too hard to explain the mystery.  It is better just to be receptive, a Leica within each reach.”

If you find yourself in London or Paris before June, you may want to make this one of your decisive stops and be inspired.

Every color of the parachute

A couple of weekends ago we once again found ourselves piloting from village to village in search of a Centre Sportif (a central community gym.)  Stretched 50 miles long and 35 miles wide with Luxembourg City smack dab at the lip line, most villages in Luxembourg are within an oft quoted “20 minute” drive.  On the occasion of this weekend however, two games for two different boys demanded our presence at the exact same time– one at the forehead of the Grand Duchy, the other at its chin.  Earlier in the morning, we had already played a game somewhere on the East cheek.  Seizing the opportunity toward simplification living in a small city flush with reliable public transportation, it is the rare Saturday such as this one where having one family car has been problematic.  Problematic, to be precise, for those not disposed to waiting.

There are worse things than passing time in the quiet of a small village.  Only an early drop-off would have provided an empty gym for a Jimmy Chitwood moment.  Post-game, families gather around an out-of-place bar in the gym lobby waiting for their young athletes to toast both wins and losses.  This time a scarce loss, most likely the result of fatigued boys from an earlier triumphant game.  Soon the lobby empties leaving only the two of us, but not before the oversized Tupperware container of dirty jerseys passes on to us for our turn at community washing.  Ear buds in to recharge, my tired athlete reclines against the Tupperware while I busy myself for the hour wait counting all the shades of yellow paint used to bejewel this cavernous Centre Sportif.  

Unlike a dream where you are desperate but unable to zoom out from the mire of your situation, simply being awake allows me the choice to leave the yellow paints for something else.  Out the window, into my field of view came this row of houses.  This residential line up with their pea patch smoking balconies, perpendicular driveways, and heavily blinded windows.  Even in the small villages, post war reconstruction has put the premium on trading private space for public space where green space is meant to be shared not individually manicured.  Shoulder to shoulder, uniform in height and width but joyously irregular in color.  Every color of the parachute on one village block.   Being awake in the light also means we get to see the world in full color.  In black and white, we’d only see the sameness of this row of house.  In color, we appreciate the solidarity of being conjoined with our neighbor and the wonderful surprise that we are each graciously dyed in our own distinctive hue.  A reminder worth hanging around for.

Find a Corner of the World and Step it Up

I’m a monogamous runner with a commitment problem.   Running seems to ebb and flow with me which means I’m routinely faced with “starting over.”    Even when ebbing, I still profess to being a runner – if for nothing else, to be able to graciously decline an invitation to Zumba or Yoga.  

Signs of spring have this way of calling out “Just Do It”, so I’m flowing again with runs in the forest, my Thursday morning running group, and new to the program -- these STAIRS. 

You know that feeling you get when you’ve found a corner of the world that’s all yours?  Tucked away behind an unremarkable apartment complex about a half mile away from my house, these STAIRS have been that recent place.   Discarded water bottles and broken beer bottles signal that I’m not the first one to have made this discovery, but I have yet to see a soul here.   It’s a good thing too as ascending and descending 106 stairs is best done without an audience.   Working against gravity sounds a lot like a pulmonary crisis.

(Movie trivia fact worth noting: Sylvester Stallone climbed 72 steps. )

I don’t have a specific stair workout beyond getting to the top and not falling back down.  I try to do this as many times as I can.   By the fourth repeat, legs reminiscent of those after childbirth start trembling on the descent, spring back to life on the initial climb only to quickly rebel screaming “Hold up!” around the 80th stair.  And it’s not just my legs that are complaining – it’s my lungs, heart, and gluts too.  These stairs have grade.

At the top, I notice the heavy ivy growth on the hillside which seems to want to smother my own legs to the ground. A cigarette butt on the step below asserts I’ve done enough, while my iPhone shuffles to a sleepy Mumford & Sons song to affirm the point.  But then, that silly stuffed teddy bear smiles at me from a window urging me “Just One More Time, You Can Do It.  Look at Me, I can’t move.  I’m stuck in this window.”  The mind plays funny tricks on you when your heart rate is elevated.

It’s still going to be awhile before I’m skipping steps, backward climbing or hopping up – but each time, I go a little further and isn’t that what it’s all about?  Find your stairs.  Wave to your imaginary crowd or Teddy in the window, hurdle a bench (but only if you can do so safely), and pump your fists at the top.

I’d go step it up now, but first I have a cheese and wine lunch date with a friend.  And that too is totally worth just doing.

GPS Drive

Though I’ve been a few times before, enter destination to be safe.

This first part - this following the road for 15 kilometers – like autopilot.   Cars and trucks and all kinds of vehicles share this wide road with lanes breaking for a range of speed appetites.

An announced exit to a slower country road, a curious path for a destination so well visited.   Cruise control is worthless here; this is a road you must drive.

I remember this road.  The first time, I was sure it wasn’t the most direct way.  I checked it, and yes it is the fastest way from A to B.  Not every two lane road is a road less traveled, especially the ones that cross bridges and hug rivers and insist on allowing nature to show herself off.  

Surely it is slower here, but the views less a blur. There is lush landscape surrounded by steep vineyards, half-timbered townhouses in every color of the pastel rainbow.  There are signs you can read and smiles you can make out.  With so much to see, you can’t possibly catch it all the first time through.  

This is better.  Motorways get us most of the way there, but we want our last miles to have a story with a few twists and turns.  The story would be entirely different if I were on this road tomorrow, or behind a tractor.

Listening for directions becomes important here, lest you land yourself in a deserted narrow valley where your cellular lifelines become useless or you can’t make a U-turn. 

Taillight to taillight, the temptation to pass swelling but the steady stream of oncoming traffic forces you to sit back and wait for an opening.  Wait.  Those budding vineyards on the hillside.  That car in front with a license plate from a different country.

Finally an open road ahead, the chance to accelerate – if even for a moment – where everything outside blends together into a swirl of color and texture and wonder.  Turn up the music.

Then, another small town.  Each new town like a relationship, with their smiling radar speed sign, demands that you slow down and take notice.  A frown saved for those who insist on blowing through, racing to their destination without remembering their own village.

Roundabouts where forks used to be, so many more choices with a scarcely a yield before entering.  Some circling the inside, unsure where to let themselves out.

Unexpected heavy rain dumps like Russian soldiers stampeding in, attention focuses ahead where road delineations become less visible and peripheral vision squeezed.  The beautiful tapestry of only minutes ago veiled to the elements outside your control.

Drive defensively and reflect on the feast you’ve just had, knowing the skies will clear and your destination – if not in sight – promises to be only a few roundabouts ahead.