Portugal dos Pequenitos!

On Saturday we went to Portugal dos Pequenitos (Little Guys' Portugal) in Coimbra.  It is a children's park that has replicas of all the most important buildings and vernacular architecture styles in Portugal, and the kids can walk around and clamber on the little buildings.  It is seriously cute!

All the major buildings of Lisbon and Belém, in one convenient place!

Zeke on the steps of the National Theatre of Pequenitos

The Palace of Mateus, after a hot-water wash cycle?

The peasants here look so happy...

Rafi actually smiling because he just sold this house to a Portuguese kid who does not suspect that he's not really a professional real estate agent. 

Portugal dos Pequenitos was originally built during the Salazar dictatorship years, and it has a section with pavilions representing the former Portuguese colonies.  At the time these were built, they were presented in terms of Portugal's civilizing mission in the "overseas provinces" of the Portuguese empire--you can see this in the old plaques that are on display inside the pavilions.  Recently, this area was updated somewhat as the "PALOP" area (Países de Lingua Official Portuguesa).  The new signs outside the pavilions give the dates of the anti-colonial independence revolutions, and the purpose of the exhibition has been reframed in terms of multiculturalism and understanding the differences and similarities among people in the Lusophone countries.  Still, when you're in Portugal, everywhere you look, there's a sense of colonial nostalgia for the days of the Treaty of Tordesillas, when the Pope drew a line on a map, splitting up the world between Spain and Portugal.  Really, Portugal hasn't quite figured out how to reimagine itself as a nation, now that it is a small European country that has no colonies but does have an ex-colony (Brazil) that is quickly overtaking the language and Lusophone media.

II Caminhada de Conimbriga by michaelaoash at Garmin Connect - Details

We had a fantastic time on an organized hike yesterday around Conimbriga with new friends Marta, Pedro, Lawrence, Emma, Ilya, and Joao. Here is a map of the walk, which included Roman ruins. Photos to follow.



Zeke and Rafael had no trouble walking 9 miles with substantial elevation changes. We're proud of them.

II Caminhada de Conimbriga by michaelaoash at Garmin Connect - Details

Mystery Reader, Rafael Ash

Rafi was the mystery reader for Victoria Munroe's First Grade at Wildwood School today. He read by Skype The Azores, New Islands of the Atlantic,, a children's story that we found on the Instituto Camoes website. (Listen to the story read aloud in Portuguese here.) We translated the story to English. Here are the pages that Rafi read.

What a Fool I Am

The song Que parva que sou (What a fool I am) by the band Deolinda has become the youth anthem of the crisis in Portugal.

Some choice quotes:
"I'm from the living-at-home generation...
"In order to be a slave, you have to study...
"If I'm lucky, I can intern...
"And there's always somebody worse off than me on TV...

(English subtitles)


(alternative English subtitles--take your pick)


(Portuguese subtitles)

Sou da geração sem remuneração
E nem me incomoda esta condição
Que parva que eu sou!
Porque isto está mau e vai continuar
Já é uma sorte eu poder estagiar
Que parva que eu sou!
E fico a pensar,
Que mundo tão parvo
Onde para ser escravo é preciso estudar


Sou da geração "casinha dos pais",
Se já tenho tudo, p'ra quê querer mais?
Que parva que eu sou
Filhos, marido, estou sempre a adiar
E ainda me falta o carro pagar
Que parva que eu sou!

E fico a pensar,
Que mundo tão parvo
Onde para ser escravo é preciso estudar

Sou da geração "‘vou queixar-me pra quê?"
Há alguém bem pior do que eu na TV
Que parva que eu sou!
Sou da geração "eu já não posso mais!’"

Que esta situação dura há tempo demais
E parva eu não sou!
E fico a pensar,
Que mundo tão parvo
Onde para ser escravo é preciso estudar

A typical home-cooked meal here

Moving to a new place is funny--you have the same four people in the household, but a different kitchen, differnt pots and appliances, different foods in the stores, different routines of provisioning...So our diet has changed with the environment, even though I have not received much direct instruction on Portuguese home cooking yet.

Tonight's dinner is an example: Michael and I went to the market hall this morning and looked at fish.  We went to the fishmonger we like and asked her for a fish that would taste good in a stew--this is because I didn't feel like frying and filleting fish and also because our oven here is a little sketchy.  She suggested medallions of a long, cylindrical fish with silver skin--not pesca espada, which we have also tried and liked, but something similar in shape and size.  Michael and I have already forgotten the name.  We also grabbed some clams because Rafi is a fan.  While in the market hall, we also got some zucchini and salad stuff, then hauled it all home.

So, to cook it, I made a sofrito of chopped shallots, bell pepper, a few linguiça slices, and slivered garlic and sauteed that in plenty of olive oil in a heavy pot.  Then I sliced and browned the zucchini.  Then I pushed all of the veggies to the side, added more olive oil, and browned the fish medallions.  Once they looked good, I dumped in the clams in their shells, then added water, white wine, some diced tomatoes from a can, salt, pepper, and piri-piri (Portuguese spicy red pepper flakes), and slammed down the lid.  Simmered until the clams opened up, and voilá--with some bread, a green salad, and cold white wine, dinner was served.

It was pretty good, BUT the fish was surprisingly bony so we had to be very careful serving it to Rafi and eating it ourselves.  This is a typical meal hazard here--we Americans have basically cut out all fin-fish except for salmon, tuna, and white fish fillets, so my "fish skills" learning curve is high.  Once we had picked out the needle-like bones, the flesh of the fish was firm, white, and delicious.  Rafi ate a lot of clams and mopped up the sauce with his bread roll.  The sauce was tasty but a bit too salty--again, I am still gauging how much salt is already there in the fresh fish and clams and the little bits of sausage.  On the other hand, the salt just makes you want to drink more of that $3 white wine! 

Meanwhile, Zeke made progress on eating a tofu cutlet--a new food for him.  Tofu is actually pretty rare in Portugal, but we happen to live a 1/2 block away from one of the biggest "bio" stores in Lisbon, and we bought it there.  Zeke must be growing because he is eating new foods--this past week, he added falafel and tahini to his list of new favorites as well. 

So some of the differences in cooking here: I'm using olive oil more liberally, having trouble gauging the amount of salt, and encountering many weird new fish varieties that I then have to figure out how to cook and serve properly in the half-hour leading up to dinner.  Also, because I am in unfamiliar territory, I am falling back on salad and pasta as a dinner more often than at home--when in doubt, it's fast and everyone will eat it.  And Zeke is experimenting with new foods a bit more than before, which is great!

Krista and Michael: Back to school!

One of the reasons we have slacked off on blog posts lately is that Michael and I enrolled in Portuguese language classes and started auditing a history class.  So our daily life in Lisbon is suddenly much more structured.  We are learning a lot, though!

My Portuguese class is beginning intermediate, and my teacher Claudia is very good.  When I am in class, I definitely feel like I'm swimming in the deep end of the pool--not in my linguistic comfort zone.  In many ways, everyday conversations in Portuguese are easier because people slow down, simplify their language, are extremely patient, and switch to English if it starts getting too painful!

Michael's class is advanced beginners, and he is also getting a good stretch.  He has already made friends with some of the Italian Erasmus exchange students in his class.

We both have so many questions about Portugal that we decided to audit a contemporary Portuguese history course (19th C. forward) that is being taught in English for the international students. The teacher, Alice Samara, is a brilliant lecturer who recently finished her dissertation on Portugal's Republican revolution of 1910.  Alice brings dozens of images from the archives so that students can get a sense of how historians actually work--it has been a great window into another field for me.  After class, the three of us often go to the cafeteria for a coffee and chat some more--like I said, we have a lot of questions!  In class, we learned about the constellation of 19th civil society institutions that created the conditions for the birth of the Republican and Socialist parties in Portugal--and many of these institutions, like neighborhood music schools and sports clubs--still exist in Lisbon today.  We also learned about secret societies (the radical Carbonaria, later linked to the regicide) and "discreet societies" (the more bourgeois Freemasons and related clubs).  Most recently, Alice lectured about the assassination of the king and crown prince that touched off the revolution.  She plans to take us through the Salazar dictatorship, the democratic revolution of 1974, and decolonization by May.  What a treat.

It's also interesting to be in a class with the rest of the students, who are about 20 years old.  Yesterday, I sat next to a Smithie who clearly was less transfixed by Alice's rich knowledge of Portuguese social history--she spent the whole class period behind her laptop, electronically chatting about American TV shows with a friend in another country on Facebook.  Listening to a really good history lecture, looking at the reprints of the caricatures, taking notes from time to time, seems to be a lost art.  On the other hand, I used to write letters in class all the time when I was at Berkeley; so I don't want to be a hypocrite.  But having a real-time exchange on a computer screen really transplants you from the place where you are sitting, I think.  When do you just allow yourself to be in one place?  It is so hard to figure out how to teach these days...

We heard a joke today at a birthday party that Rafi attended (actually the rain date for the full party of the birthday that he attended last weekend. The weather was much better, there were scads of kids, and everyone had a great time).

In the 1950's the Portuguese Dictator Salazar (António de Oliveira Salazar) approaching 70 years of age and 30 years in power, encounters a childhood friend. They embrace, exchange pleasantries, etc. Finally, Salazar asks the friend, "So, how are you?"

"To be honest, not so great," the friend replies. "Times are tough. We never have enough to eat."

"That's terrible. Let me help," Salazar responds. He scribbles something on a piece of paper, folds it, and hands it to the friend. "Here, now you will never go hungry again."

The man rushes home, proudly announces to his wife that their troubles are over. They have a note from Salazar that ensures they will never go hungry again.

"Let me see that," his wife says. She opens the note and reads,

"The holder of this note may eat the grass in any park in Portugal."

The teller of the joke was Jose, the grandfather of Ricardo, the birthday boy. Jose grew up and most of the family lives in the Margin Sul, the towns on the southern bank of the Tejo River, opposite Lisbon. Ricardo's Uncle Jorge and Aunt Elizabeth and their sons Rui (age 9) and Tomas (about 2) live in
Charneca de Caparica.

Teresa, Ricardo's grandmother, grew up in Cacilhas where some weeks ago we had the amazing seafood meal after a ferry ride from Lisbon. Jose's father had worked on the Cacilhas ferryboat, and Jose had very interesting recollections of the industries that used to line the banks of the Tejo, including garrafeiras, or places where wine is aged and then bottled, and sardinheiras, or canneries.

Jose is widely traveled and knew a lot about the history of the Portuguese language and its similarity to Gallego. Among other things, we learned that we have been pronouncing the vowels "too open" (like Spanish), and one consequence is that people can't tell when we are saying "he" (ele) or "she" (ela).