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Chocolate affects Sara. She spins like an airplane in a tailspin. She giggles. She runs around the house with her arms stretched out like Frankenstein.

Our Halloween was very happy despite driving rain and a dark night post Day Light Savings. I arrived home at 6pm w/ my husband and pumpkin clad daughter gunning to trick or treat before dinner. Sara was a trooper. She plundered over 6 houses, spanning 2 blocks. She clung to one butterfinger bar for over a block. Eventually, she seemed to get the hang of it and wanted “more”. At one house, she braved a strobe light cemetery, an opening coffin, a knife wielding monster, and dancing ghouls for candy. The valor award went to a neighbor passing out candy on crutches (seat by the door so he could even open it). I got smooched by a ghost.

It took Sara a few minutes to shift gears at home. When trick or treaters came to the door, she tried to take more candy. Eventually, she started passing it out. We continue to be blessed with a multitude of treaters.

Sara asleep and the candy basket empty, we continued tradition and snuck next door to enjoy good conversation with Ken and Erica et al till bedtime. We had a great time earlier in the week at their pumpkin carving party. Pictures are below.

We have not posted a picture of Sara in a long time. Just been too busy going to Alaksa, Atlanta, Michigan, Portugal to really process digital photos. Here is a nice one from on top of a hill in Sitka.

The last 2 days have been much more social, filled with better food, the internet and little site seeing. This is the working part of the trip according to Wayne. We’ve become well acquainted with our jovial host, Francisco, who drives us to and from the university. The hospitality has been warm and welcoming.

Yesterday, I spent most of the day in the graduate office looking into my husband’s world. The actual conference is mostly in Portuguese, so no as accessible to the Wayne, Brian (an Englishman living in Canada, but almost fluent in spanish), and Carston (a German living in England fluent in Swiss). There were 3 ethernet wires in the office we inhabited that made all the geeks immensely happy. There was a companionable silence interrupted by occasional musings as papers were reviewed, talks reworked, the internet surfed, and a blog filled out.

I was fairly content with this arrangement. Theoretically, I could have walked back the hotel, “only 30 minute walk” according to Francisco. I was not confident in navigational ability on foot without a map. The downtown of Vila Real looks interesting if you want something to eat or to buy something, but not so much for touring. So I read my series about the #1 Ladies Detective Agency of Botswana (very amusing and soothing read).

Lunch was fabulous. Created by the in house computer science ‘bar’, it was probably the 3rd best meal I had. There were breaded appetizers filled with savory chicken in a half-moon shape known as rissio(?), delicious pumpkin carrot soup, tastey pork and potatoes (a common theme, but a delicious rendition), and another custard and creme desert (not the best).

By afternoon, I was a little more tired. I sampled the cement floor for a nap while the computer guys attended the conference. The bathrooms were having problems and the smoke was thick in the building. Finally, we returned to the hotel and walked around the town. Dinner was the main event, located at a local port vineyard/farmhouse. We didn’t arrive until after dark, but could see the vines turning colors. The evening was very cold and I got car sick in the back of a stuffy van after 30 min of winding dark roads. We got lost once or twice, but made it. We had a brief tour of the port processing area.

I’ve just had my best Portuguese meal yet and I’m told the best is yet to come. We awoke early this morning and checked out of our comforting Hotel Avenida Palace. We whizzed to the aeroporto in a fast taxi. The rain had started to fall steadily. Our Aerocondo flight was delayed. Finally, a bus took the 10 passengers to the plane and we loaded up. It was a small plane and a bit unsteady in the air. I mostly tried to sleep and ignore the turbulence.

We were the only ones to get off the plane in Vila Real. We were standing in a small terminal of only 2 rooms, one for waiting and one for eating. No one looked like the legendary Francisco. A couple of moments later, our host arrived with a burgundy small typical European car. The land around here is greener, an occasional vineyard, some areas burned by fire (evidently fires before we came). Driving around reminds me of southern Bavaria where we did most of our driving.

We housed at the Hotel Mira Corgo and waited for our host to return from an errand. We joined up with Bryan Wyvill, another speaker from Calgary, and walked to Terra da Montanha, a regional restaurant. This region moves away from the seafood heavy food of Lisbon and focuses on meat. We sat in a large half wine barrel that held a table for 4. After an exchange of words, appetizers (unordered) appeared – green beans frieded like tempura and dark, fatty sausages named little chorizo’s. Then the main course came, large iron dishes filled with T-bone steaks, potatoes, and cabbage. 2 arrived, then 2 more-one seemed enough for two. Still, I ate a whole steak for lunch after eating a sausage and enjoyed the entire affair. I turned down desert. We’ve been doing that a lot. Francisco says we need to try more. Tonight he says it will be better. And wait till tomorrow…oh boy!

Wayne gave his talk to an auditorium of 50 students. Students everywhere look the same, differing levels of disheveledness and interest. The skin and hair here are darker, more Mediterranean in appearance. No one had blonde hair in the audience. The talk went well. Smoking is rampant everywhere. Evidently, students will smoke in class despite it being against the rules.

We retired back to the hotel for a pre-dinner nap. We joined Francisco, Bryan, and a Lisbon colleague Joaquim for dinner. Bryan and Joaquim are obviously old colleagues and sparred back and forth about naval and colonial history with interesting stories. We all had delicious salmon steaks and desert of cream and coffee chilled (delightful). Wayne tried an after dinner port.

Tuesday turned out to be our true touring day. We slept 12 hours, awaking at 10am with only a few minutes left for breakfast and what a breakfast! Avendida Palace is truly a classy place. We walked to the 2nd floor to find wide hall with high basketball court high ceilings, floor to ceiling gilded mirrors, and a large banquet hall for breakfast. The room was like a babel fish with smatterings of french and german from different corners of business people starting their work early. A waiter dressed in whites asked us for coffee or tea. The selection was broad. This was a generous ‘continental’ breakfast. Crepes warmed in the corner next to 3 types of jam. Sliced meats reminescent of Salumi lay next to sweets like marmalade bread, soft pudding, sweet buns, cookies, and attempts at croissants. There was a plethora of fresh fruit, especially sweet watermelon in October! I steered away from the standard ‘English breakfast’ of sausage, eggs, and cereal, instead tasting what was unusual to my tongue.

We didn’t get out till almost noon. I wanted to see the Tuesday market in Alfama known as Feira?. I was hoping for a food market where we could pick and chose our lunch, but after the breakfast food was not so interesting. We followed the winding streets, looking for plaques on the buildings themselves. These streets were designed to confuse invaders, not sheperd tourists. The midday was muggy and warm. I wore long pants for off chance of church hopping, but longed for shorts. Despite the weather, no one was wearing anything but pants. We arrived to find a flea market, no produce vendors. One shop had camouflage clothing, another African crafts, another bins of ‘junk’ – buttons, old playmobile figurines, lapel pins, old pre-Euro coins. One vendor has beautiful pottery with blue background and sunflowers. We decided to get a sourvenir for home. We also picked up some gifts which made Wayne’s backpack even heavier.

We stopped for lunch just below the castle at Comida do Santiago?, a buffet restaurant. Wayne trialed the grilled sardines (good, I liked the one or two bites I had) and I had pork wrapped around ham and cheese.

Castle of Sao Jorge was the next target. Through the winding streets, I’d stop every few minutes to take photos of the tiled building fronts or an interesting door. I got a few nice shots after we got caught in a downpour, probably the last breath of former Hurricane Vince. My energy level started to ebb as we walked uphill to the castle, but Wayne’s eyes were sparkling. Castles and volcanos bring out the little boy in my husband.

The castle, itself, was huge with actual residences and streets inside the ramparts. We walked along the outer walls, enjoying sweeping views of Lisbon. We saw the Tower of Belem, where we had hoped to visit, but didn’t have enough time. You could see the longest extension bridge named after the Carnation Revolution of 4-25-74 that freed Portugal. There was the statue of Cristio Rei mimicked in Rio de Janiero.

We walked back through the Alfama neighborhoods, perhaps the oldest part of the town. We stopped at a small cafe for a tea before arriving at our hotel. They were selling smoked chestnuts on the roadside that sent smoke billowing through the streets near our hotel. Another pre-dinner nap. We had reservations at Restaurante Papa’acorda, a pricier restaurant in the Bairro Alto Rick Steve’s described as swank, but delicious. They only sat at diners at 2000 and 2200. We had the earlier reservation, but still arrived earlier. Lisbon at night seemed more subdued. The inviting alleys were now dark, people walked in small, laughing groups, often in the distance.

There was a neighboring specialty food shop that we walked around in. The woman proprietor spoke perfect English and showed us around the selection of 1000 euro port and wine. Finally, the restaurant doors opened and dinner was served. I got pan fried lamb chops, breaded and savory, sans sauce and Wayne enjoyed a Portuguese style steak. We shared a custard, not quite creme brulee, a portuguese special. Wayne judges all espresso by the cup he had 3 yrs ago in a Tiroli mountain cafe as we drove with Jon and Claire to Vienna. This espresso was ‘good, but not as good’.

I am writing from the “Hotel Avenida Palace” in Lisbon. We flew in this morning through some of the most amazing storm clouds I have ever seen. Very pretty and I just found out reading the news that they were clouds bands of hurricane Vince!

Ever feel cursed? Our trip to Portugal was canceled on Saturday due to storms in the northeast over Newark (that cause major flooding in New England). And now the storms have followed us.

One nice stroke of luck, we took a bus to our hotel and walked a few blocks. Just as we got settled in the clouds opened up an dumped major amounts of rain. Fortunately we were tucked nicely in our hotel room by then.

Utter fatigue to blessed luxury all in one day.

Travel is never easy. Once again, we arrived at Hartsfield International airport hoping to go somewhere international. Sara awoke from her nap right as we jumped from the car crying out ‘Daddy’. My parents sped away and we hoped for take off. The Delta line was long. At the end, we were told to get in the Air France line (much smaller). Our flight left at late afternoon on Sunday without event. The flight went uneventfully. There was no wiggly, squirming child to appease. We watched Girl with a Pearl Earring and went to sleep. I got about 3 hrs of sleep. Meals were good. I actually ate a fresh tuna salad with marinated chickpeas. I watched Witness on the seatback TV screen. Viggo Mortensen had a non-speaking part.

All the passengers stumbled off the plane at 6am Paris time. We walked down the stairs onto a tarmac. Our connection was very tight. Several staff were there to meet us, but just vaguely waved to a bus 200 yards away. Once loaded on the bus in the still dark morning, we asked the driver if he’d take us to our terminal. He was a large black man who only grunted responses, made no eye contact, acted as if inquiries were rubbish, and listened to loud techno English-French rap. This caused us bleary eyed travelers alarm and uncertainty in light of a ticking clock and the remoteness of our location. We drove around in darkness for 20 minutes, throughout dark mechanical complexes that didn’t look remotely like terminals, once getting lost, to the beat of foreign music and the growing murmurs of alarm of the passengers. We finally stopped at a plain white metal door. Inquiries to the driver were met with a disgusted wave. Meekly, we all crept off the bus and entered this door that didn’t look like a main entrance. We were in a odd corner of Charles De Gaul and had 30minutes to find our terminal. Fatigued and adrenalized, we ran through this early morning maze reading French as best we could. Eventually we found the right place and loaded on a flight to Lisbon.

I slept and was jolted awake by our arrival. Then I was more fatigued. Customs was a wave from an official. Bags blessedly arrived. 2 ATMS refused our cards. Wayne’s never worked. Finally we had some euros. The bored TI attendant refused our request for a taxi voucher (more expensive, but avoids the chance of taxi scams) and directed us to the bus. After 2 attempts we found the Aerobus stop and took #91. We followed the map and were able to navigate to the hotel. Then the luxury began.

Hotel Avenida Palace was unassuming at first. A porter opened the door and took our bags (I neglected to tip this service in my jet lagged state!). The elevator didn’t even have a door that closed and just rolled past exposed wall. The 6th floor was dark with motion sensing lights that quickly turned off. The key card was required to turn on lights in the room. The room was luxurious, decorated in Georgian style. Finally all the rushing of travel stopped. We unpacked, showered, slept, soaked in the view, read some books. They brought breakfast to our room, tea and coffee, sweetbreads and croissants with jam. By 3pm, we were ready to meet our new city.

We started with a walk suggested by Rick Steves through the local neighborhoods of Baixa and Chiado. We took a funicular (a one street trolley) up a steep hill to a viewpoint at a park.

Lisbon is a grittier European city. Some might say it’s dirty, to me it just seems more ‘lived in’. Munich, in comparison, was impossibly clean. There’s colorful graffiti everywhere, occasional dog feces on the sidewalks, things are broken and often in disrepair. We had to the street often because sidewalks were blocked by abandoned construction projects. Cars were parked everywhere in jumbled ways. Cars would regularly invade the pedestrian only walkways. Tiled sided buildings often had clashing colors or broken tiles. Windows would be bricked over and laundry hung out to dry. The whole city exuded a breezy charm. The place seemed a nice mix of South American, Mediterranean, and African cultures. The population was a mix of these cultures with darker skin and hair.

We poked our heads into the Porto institute, but decided expensive port tasting wasn’t our mood. We looked round a church with a chapel of multiple baby cherubs. I stopped for iced tea at a Pastelaria (bakery). We stopped at a mall w/ a food court and got gelato. We walked round the Baixa with a pedestrian zone. New students for college were being hazed and walking the streets asking for money dressed in funny costumes. The older students wore black uniforms with cloaks reminescent of Hogwarts students. We finally settled in one of many restaurants for dinner. The staff spoke multiple languages. A barker stood by the displayed menu and advertised the meals trying to attract customers. Dinner starts late around 7-8pm. Early goers avoid the smoke. Wayne had portuguese pork and clams while I tried mixed grilled meats (seemed mostly pork). It was a meat and potatoes type meal, in retrospect the lowest quality of the trip, but it felt very satisfying at the time. We were well positioned to people watch.

Back at the hotel, we figured out how to access the internet. I got to talk to Mom and Dad via the computer using Skype. Sara was getting a bath and kept repeating daddy (probably since Mom was on the phone). She reportedly is happy with her current arrangements and hasn’t missed us in the least. So much for maternal worries.

Exhaustion is the best technique for fighting jet lag. I went right to sleep and stayed that way for the next 10 hrs.