The tour continues….

Feb 29th
Estarreja
Arrival in Estarreja, a smaller industrial town near the central coast. Last night’s venue was Marie Antoinette, tonight’s is Margaret Thatcher. We play in a “contemporary” 1960’s built theatre, with grey seats and different flair. However the venue is great, the crowd is enthusiastic to a “T” and they laugh as we make fools of ourselves with style and grace. As one kid said afterwards, “We just don’t get stuff this weird out here, and it is so refreshing!” Another standing ovation, and a feeling of mirth and joy from these lovely people.

On the way to the stage:

Our tired troupe stayed at a 4 star Euro hotel overlooking the valley where a glass of the local port was offered with the rooms. Skip was our Port liason and sampled the local booze (thanks Skip).

Here we ate at another authentic Portuguese restaurant. which was to be the beginning of many. The food here is one of the things that makes Portugal distinctly Portugal, we all agree, and it has been a very essential part of our experience.

Ah, the food! Let’s just say if you come here you better LOVE FISH. Most restaurants are similar in feel and serve a very similar menu.

We all sit at a large table, and the food usually comes on large plates, from which we often share. The menus are small (especially compared to those in America), and consist of the following:

2-4 kinds of fish
2-4 kinds of meat
Veggie Soup
Salad
Rice
Potatoes
vegetables

You order one meat, and then share the other stuff. Vegetarians - good luck!
Before the meal, you get bread, meat/cheese and a few kinds of “fish spreads” ummmmm Sardines!

We have never had so much fish in our entire lives, and I think I for one, shall soon become one. All in all, it is pretty good, and more salty and oily then I am used to, but i could get used to it.

March 1st -2nd
Portalegre

This is my kind of small European town, and has been a highlight, I must say. Portalegre is built upon a bunch of small hills, right near the central Spanish border. It is about 30,000 people, and is 90% Roman catholic. The buildings are old, picturesque and out of a storybook. The streets (or lanes) are very small, ALL cobbelstone, and wind around each other like someone dropped a ball of yard on a floor and used that as the plan for the city. It is like stepping into the best art house movie at every turn. Brightly painted brick houses with wrought iron balconies, full of plants and lazy cats, little old women wearing black and large cruzifixes stare as you pass as groups of older men in suits sit around all day playing cards and smoking cigarettes. The city feels like a real village, where generations of families have grown up here and never moved away. As our Portuguese friend said “No one will steal from you in Portalegre, because someone will know the thief.”

We stayed in a rustic old hotel, by a big park in town, just a hop and a skip from everything. You can walk around the whole town in 2 hours, easy. We played the first night we arrived, at a very unusual new performing arts center, made from wood and marble. It was state of the art. Here is us in the dressing room before the show, trying on a new color:

Afterwards, there was a party in the bar upstairs, where we met a bunch of locals and got trashed on local wine and port. We were asked to “jam out” so we pulled out or instruments again and had some fun. Skip played tracks and we also made fools of ourselves dancing around. Robin (me) pulled out some swing moves on an unsuspecting local, and ended up doing dirty dancing with Lesley, to a wonderfully embarrassing degree (as usual).

There was a picture of the Yard Dogs Road Show poster next to ours, which was cool, as they were here a year before.

Most of us made it home right before sunrise this night, which was great, as we needed the party to loosen up.

The next day some of us experienced a unique, beautiful and powerful Portuguese experience. It was our day off, and we ended up at the town center church on a very auspicious day, which was the march of the Passion of Christ. This holiday happens but once a year, and we happened to be in town on that date. I say jesus was guiding us there. The march began in the big cathedral in town, with a huge procession coming out of it, including a giant jesus on a cross, fire torches, flowers, statues of mary and joseph, some weird metal/christo sculpture, the bishop underneath a moving canopy, and of course two marching bands! Thousands of people took to the streets in an endless train of singing, crying laughing and sincerity. We wound through small cobblestone alleys and avenues where families had draped gorgeous fabrics and trains of flowers out of balconies, and passed by people in windows with candles and alters.

It was a “quintessential european experience”, and one that will not be forgotten. It was a good insight into a deeply roman catholic tradition that has played a large part in shaping this country. The majority of the people were older, though, as many of the younger people feel out of touch with what Catholicism offers.