Evora and Fado

I'd like to start this blog entry with a good rant. Nothing gets the blood up and moving better. My topic today is about hotel beds.

You know, hotel companies pour millions into designing their lobbies, common areas and especially their guest rooms with the idea of making them attractive, inviting and comfortable for their guests. And yet so many times I walk into a hotel, impressed with all the above only to sit on the bed and my world comes crashing down.

Too many hotels spend too little time on the most fundamentally important fixture in any guest room. The bed! They are too hard. The pillows don't work. It's always something. Why not offer rooms with options. Feather pillows or hypo-allergenic pillows or how many pillows would you like? Optional mattresses could include pillow tops, latex top, or, my favorite, how about a Temperpedic mattress? The hotel companies could get the mattress companies to give them mattresses in exchange for posting ads in hotel lobbies and even little placards in the rooms. Nothing tacky. Just a hint that "if you slept well last night, it might be because you slept on a thus and such mattress."

I bring this up because of the 10 nights in hotel beds on this trip thus far, last night was the first night I have slept in a bed that didn't feel like I was lying on a board. 9 out of 10 so far. And these have all been 3 and 4 star hotels.

It isn't just in Europe either. I don't believe it is nearly the same problem in the U.S. but in Asia and Africa, the same issue. Hard beds. Am I missing something? Please, friends of my blog, educate me on this issue. I welcome any and all views on this topic.

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Well, we have arrived in ancient Evora. A city that has been conquered by the Romans, the Moors, the Visigoths, and the Spanish. It is a university city. The school was founded by the Jesuits who were finally chased off when they got too big for their britches and too unwilling to update their thinking--so the king tossed them out and took all their property.  In the 1970's the university was reopened as a secular school.

We walked all over the small historic core of the city. It lies within walls built in Roman times. The remnant of a Roman Temple still stands at the top of the city today only meters from the 14th century Evora Cathedral.

The town seems to still be slumbering in its winter nap with many stores closed, including the Public Market which was far more closed than open.

We visited the Bone Chapel, a small church whose interior walls are made of human bones. They were used by a monk to give folks an indication of their own mortality. It was interesting but if you have seen the Paris underground tombs lined with human bones, this will be a big let down. It is pretty fascinating though.

We walked up the main shopping street and again quite a bit was closed. I wondered how affected Evora was by the world financial crunch and how much is just seasonal. Some of the shops looked pretty closed up though.

At the top of the street we walked out into the square where the gorgeous Evora Cathedral sits. We toured it's cloister and the cathedral itself. It has a lovely main alter and several beautiful painted statues including one of a very pregnant mother of Jesus.

Outside the cathedral and around the corner sits the ruin of a Roman Temple with 14 still standing columns. Behind it is a well maintained park, once the site of the local Roman forum. We sat in the park and had a pitcher of sangria while taking in the panorama of the temple with the cathedral spire in the background.

We located a local restaurant that features Fado singing so we're heading there this evening. Fado  seems like the Portuguese equivalent of Country Western music. Sad, melancholy, my woman left me, my dog died, etc. Our experience turned out to be quite an adventure. Boy what a story!

We'd read about this traditional Portuguese music called Fado in our travel guru, Rick Steve's book about Portugal. We decided we needed to hear this music and decided that here in Evora we would have an easier time experiencing it than in the big city of Lisbon. Rick book recommended a restaurant that does Fado after dinner several nights a week. Perfect!

So we show up at this charming restaurant, called Bota Alta. Entering the small cafe, the first thing we noticed was how warm and inviting it was. The ceiling was barrel shaped and lined with red brick, the walls covered with small works of art reflective of Evora. Pictures of our host Esperanza with friends in poses while singing Fado lined an altar-like corner. In the center of the back wall was a blazing fire. Each of the 7-8 tables were covered with a pretty patterned table cloth and white place settings. 

Esperanza showed us to our table nestled in the corner by the fire. There was not another soul in the place. Hmmmmmm! "Fado tonight", we ask? She assures us there is. We must just be early. The Fado isn't supposed to start until 10 and can run until 3 in the morning.

Esperanza brings us the menu for the night and through her very rough English and Leslie's Spanish we manage to order our meal. Our first course came. Still no one in the place. Mind you it only has about 8 tables and one of them we had been told was set for the artists who would perform later. We figure we can always leave at some point in the evening when we tire or have had enough. Our evening was only just beginning.

The first course comes out with a basket of very hearty bread. Remember, if you eat any of the bread in Spain and in Portugal, you bought it. If you don't want it, either state you don't want it or don't touch it and you won't be charged. Either way, it is usually only a couple of Euros.

The first course, as I said, arrived. It was a delicious plate of pan fried mushrooms and chunks of chorizo sausage, and parsley, I think. Anyway, it was wonderful. Also, a bottle of Portuguese white wine accompanied it which was poured for us by Esperanza. It was so so. We lingered over our appetizer and sipped our wine. Esperanza was on the phone which rang several times.

About 9:30 Esperanza comes to our table crestfallen. The news is that the guitar player's wife has been taken to the hospital and won't be able to play tonight. No guitar. No Fado. Esperanza is heart broken. What can you do. We figured at least we were having a lovely dinner in an empty restaurant with a charming host.

About 10:00 our main arrives. It is the famous local dish called Cataplana, which has chunks of bacalau or salted codfish. This salted cod is in plentiful supply in Spain and Portugal and in almost every traditional dish in this country. We've enjoyed it in several dishes we've tried during the trip.. The chunks of fish floated in a delicious tomato based stew along with potatoes, small whole shrimp and some small clams. It almost looked like paella, without the rice which would have absorbed the soup, or a version of bouillabaisse.

We each dished out a big helping onto our plates. Our first bite was incredible. Heavenly!

Now, at some point and you'll forgive me, I hope, but I am having trouble remembering what happened next and in what order. But another bottle of wine, this time Esperanza's own label, and a much better wine than the first, was opened and poured into our glasses. Esperanza also decided to have her dinner with us. She pulled up a chair and Victoria, her cook with a very shy smile, brought another dish, this one with with what Esperanza called Dogfish. Basically a white wine based stew.  More wine glasses were placed in front of us along with a new bowl. The next thing we know, after the new wine was poured,  Esperanza ladled portions of this new soup into our bowls. It, too, was delicious. In fact we both liked it even better than the first.

All of a sudden, in the front door walks John, one of the Fado singers. Introductions were made all around and we invited him to sit down. Leslie spent a lot of time trying to convince both Esperanza and John, to sing some Fado for us even though there was no guitarist. John was not a shy singer so with a little prompting he stood up and tosses off his jacket, which he came in wearing like a cape, and broke into song. He finished with a flourish and we all applauded and took another gulp of wine. This goes on for sometime until John bows with a flourish, tosses his coat back over his shoulders and leaves. He returned a short time later with his girlfriend, Leonora, I believe was her name.  She was studying veterinary science at the university in Evora. More introductions were made, more invitations to sit, to eat something and have a glass of wine. Another bottle of wine was opened. More singing!

John and his girlfriend leave. We all hug and kiss each check the way they do in Europe. But shortly, in walks another young man who, as you might guess, also sings Fado. He sits down. He freely admits he is very drunk but he too is not a shy singer so he tosses off a couple of songs, except he keeps forgetting the lyrics because, as he said, he is very drunk.

In walks Esperanza's best friend of over 30 years. She is not a Fado singer but clearly knows the words to all the songs being sung and joins in from time to time while smoking her cigarettes and tossing back drinks she was making for herself in the bar. More singing. At some point another a bottle of Esperanza's best is opened and our glasses are filled to the brim again. More singing.

Then in walks Esperanza's best friend's two daughters, I think? They stayed only a bit and then left. More singing. More wine.

Soon our new male singer friend also needs to leave. He stood up kissed Leslie on both cheeks in the European fashion, shook my hand with his left hand, as is the fashion of pretentious opera singer types, and strode out the door and down the street singing into the cool night air. More wine. At this point Esperanza is singing into the fire that had been burning brightly all evening next to our table. It was dying down and so was our evening. It was just the three of us now as her friend had also taken her leave after the kissing rituals.

We made our move to leave and Esperanza begged us to stay until 1:00. We insisted we had to get up and head for Lisbon in the morning and must go.

We all stood, paid our bill, which was only €48, hugged, kissed on each cheek, exchanged addresses and then we headed for the door. Esperanza waved to us from her front door as we tottered our way up the street in the general direction of our hotel. We were back safely in our room by 1 am and probably asleep by 1:15.

This is why we travel. For unforgettable experiences like this. A once in a lifetime never to be forgotten dinner and impromptu evening of Fado in a small little town in the middle of Portugal. It couldn't have been any better had there actually been Fado that night or if the singers were world class Fado singers. This was just us and few very good friends of a sweet, passionate woman who happens to own an 8 seat restaurant down a narrow lane in Evora, Portugal.