onto the ´real´europe - first stop: portugal

I have arrived here in Lisbon! it is my second day and my mom has just now flown in from the US. she is bubbly despite being jetlagged.

I am staying with John, a musician and friend of the Moreland girls who lives here in Lisbon. His place is lovely, very modern and comfortable, and he could not be a kinder or more generous host. i don´t think i´ve paid for one thing since i arrived nor been once uncomfortable or bored. yesterday we had lunch (the national dish of bacalhau com patatas- codfish with roasted potatoes) overlooking the water at a place called Portvgalia and i explored the old town districts of Barrio Alto and Chiado (also the shopping district). The buildings are old and classic, and the vibe is very European, think well-dressed men and women of all ages drinking espresso under lined umbrellas on cobblestone streets. It feels Parisian, but smaller and hillier, geographically similar to San Francisco but much older and historically richer. The center of town is absolutely beautiful. We saw an opera, a modern interpretation of Don Quixote, which continued to baffle even after the standing ovation. Particularly because it was all in Portuguese and I didn´t get a word.

We then went to dinner (at 11pm, I was dying) at a restaurant called La Brasserie de la Entrecote, which only serves one dish- steak and frites. You sit down, order a drink, and tell the waiter whether you want it medium rare or well done. After a month of strictly vegetarian food, I welcomed this cow moment with open arms. It was very worth it.

We then went to a club called Lux, where we saw a performance by a band called Orelha Negra- a group of Portuguese guys mixing funk, soul, and jazz with samples to make for a raucous performance. It was awesome. After the show, the crowd went upstairs to the disco bar that awaited and the party went on until 3am when we left. Butch´s French girlfriend from Pulp Fiction ("Fabiaaaan!") was standing next to me at one point!

It´s definitely been a 180 from ireland. Leaving there was sweet. Lorna and Frani took me to the airport and stood and watched until I was out of sight at the security checkpoint. Things ended on a very good note, and with an open invitation to return. And here, the pace is a little different! I noticed it yesterday when I was exhausted at 4pm- things certainly move a bit faster in Lisbon, especially hanging with John!

Tonight the three of us (mom, john, me) will go see a Fado performance, traditional Portuguese music with one singer and one guitar. I have photos that i will put on the Book, or perhaps here, later on. Adeus (adayoosh)!

the irish experience

Ah. It has been SO long since I last wrote, and I have thought about it at least once a day. So here I am, updating the blog.

A lot has happened in the last week or so, the highlight being that the weather has shaped up beautifully and now it actually feels like the beginning of summer. The last two days have been sunny and warm and I'm feeling alive again.

Easter weekend was incredibly eventful around the Phoenix. Along with three farmers markets in a row, Lorna hosted two live music performances and an all night salsa lesson with Leo from Barcelona. He's about twenty times more energetic that any of the participants- screaming "mambo" emphatically to musical counts throughout the lesson- and forcing each student to strain while moving to understand his broken English. I don't know how the Irish in the room handled it. Apparently Leo took the lesson well into the early morning- the last I heard was Leo shouting at 1 am, "Who is going to dance with meeee?!?!" as people fell asleep in chairs and cars pulled away. The restaurant has proven itself a chameleon for a wealth of different events, and it's truly entertaining to see.

Beyond that, I experienced my first farmers market in Dingle, a petite, artsy, music-rich town in the heart of the Peninsula. It was fluttering with people and delicious vittles, the sun was shining for the first time in weeks, and I really felt like a part of the community, selling the food from the place in Keel that everyone knows. Lorna spends all daý Wednesday and Thursday cooking, in preparation for the weekend markets, and last week Franziska and I were her shadows, learning how to make nearly every signature dish the restaurant boasts. The list includes lentil dal, roasted artichokes and peppers, bean salad, homemade pesto and hummus, soup, sweet potato curry, falafels, homemade tomato sauce, quinoa casserole, polenta with leeks, red pepper and apricot salsa, and a salad Lorna refers to as the "ten a day"- a grated mixture of ten(ish) fruits and veggies, usually with lentils or some other bean, fresh herbs, lemon, etc. it's delicious.

I think the central triumph of my kitchen experience here has been learning to make bread. As basic as it is, it's got to be the most satisfying skill I've gained thus far. The process is interesting, as it involves a lot of waiting and rising, then kneading, then baking. Ýou have to form a four-hour relationship with the bread before you ever see the final product. You start with yeast, a bit of sugar, warm water, and a bit of flour, and let it set for half an hour or so. Then, you mix that liquid into a large bowl with lots of flour, and let it rise for a half hour. Then, you knead the dough. This is where you decide what you want to put into the bread. The kneading takes about twenty minutes, with the additions, and then you press it into oiled tins and let it rise yet again. And finally, at four in the morning, you bake the mf-ers. (kidding). So far I've made a batch with rosemary, sunflower seeds, and a mix of spelt and rye flour, which was awesome. Then last night, it dawned on me that I could make olive bread, my top bakery favorite. It wasn't as awesome as I was sure it would be, but I was absolutely ecstatic at the idea of making olive bread by myself, no matter how it tasted. And now, I'm prepped for the challenge and determined to prevail. There's reallý fucking good bread at the end of this baking rainbow, and by God, I'm going to get to it.

As you can see, I've spent far too much time in the kitchen. But by the grace of God (who is now my friend again thanks to the overwhelming Irish Catholic influence), the sun finally returned to West Kerry, and Franny and I were able to work outside in the garden again. Lorna is revamping her 'gypsy caravan' for B&B use, and we had to move it to a more central location on the property for kitchen-to-caravan ease of travel. After much discussion and a lot of procrastination, Franny, Lorna, son Kyle, Sam, Sam's girlfriend Marketa, the regular gardener Lizzy, me, a lot of puppyesque frantic circling from Ellie, we dragged the bright yellow-and-red caravan to it's new home in the garden. Given that seven people plus a dog were required to pull this job off, it was nothing short of hilarious. Franny and I proceeded to dig steps and a patio area from what was previously grassy ground. It took about four hours, until I retired to the kitchen to 'make a snack' and ended up making the market pesto and hummus for Lorna. Needless to say, I was overjoyed to receive this task. All my extremities remain exceptionally sore. Removing the dirt under my nails is a 45-minute ordeal. This is something I consider every time I pick up a shovel. I need to get out of the city more often.

Franny, Lorna and I have formed quite a funny trio. Seeing as how the three of us hang out fourteen hours a day, it is a blessing that we have fun together. It's hilarious most of the time. It's been nice to bond, we three women of different ages, cultures and locales. We are the English-German-American powerhouse of the Phoenix restaurant, and I think Lorna would keep around us for a while´if she could.

So I leave Ireland on Wednesday, an deadline that a week ago seemed it couldn't come soon enough, as the rain and cold blew on, but now, of course, it approaches too quickly. My experience here has been, well, unforgettable. Special. I feel lucky to have come here, and begin my trip with something real and lasting. This place is strong and solid, comfortable and unique. It is constantly moving, yet at the end of the day remains unchanged. I've reminded myself throughout that it's not possible to appreciate an experience in full until it's over, and I'm just now becoming able to see the effect that living here has had on me, how incredible it's really been. I wish I could describe every nuance of the place, every detail of the house, the mountains and ocean that surround it, the feeling of the sun (and the rain) here, the sounds of the morning and everning, the flavors of what I've tasted, and, most of all, the absurd idiosyncrasies and endearing qualities of the characters who roam these grounds and call it their home. At least I know how they look and sound, and make me feel, causing me to realize how much this place and Ireland itself have woven their way into my mind and spirit.

I really don't know what to expect from the rest of my trip in Europe. I know it will be very different from the month I just spent here. But it feels wonderful to think that this experience- a book with blank pages until now- has words, to stoke my senses with the memories in my head.