A First Glace of Lisbon

The drive from Tavira to Lisbon took about 3.5 hours. If you weren’t driving a POS 2.5 cylinder Ford Focus rental car, I’m sure it would take you less. The scenery on the way from the south of Portugal to Lisbon was a particularly interesting one. Cork oak trees lined the highway on both sides. Apparently, Portugal produces 50% of the world’s harvest of cork. The trees, which are stripped of their bark (which produces the cork) can be harvested every 10-12 years and has a life expectancy of 150-250 years. Please don’t try to cut down a cork tree when you’re in Portugal – it’s illegal. You don’t want to spend you vacation in jail, do you?

Lisbon was not at all what I had expected. I think I was expecting more of a cosmopolitan city, such as Madrid or Barcelona. In comparison, Lisbon is a tad … well, shabby. I know, I know… it’s politically incorrect. But, I think if you were there you might agree that the city was more shabby than shabby chic. Many of the buildings were tiled and many of the tiles cracked and dirtied from years of wear. Also, graffiti seemed to be everywhere, making me feel uneasy about the area in general.

If you want a cultural experience you can stay in charming little hotel that the locals just love. I like a Marriott, Hilton, Four Seasons… something to that effect. If you, too, enjoy these high quality/luxury chains, do yourself a favor and do not stay in a charming little hotel. You will be beyond disappointed and a raving b!tch from lack of sleep. A traveling companion (who will remain nameless) likes these sort of out of the way, “charming” places. There were several to choose from… but they weren’t cheap. We settled on 180 Euro a night boutique that was labeled as a “good value” by a very reputable travel web site. (Note: I’ve figured out that a “good value” means that the sheets are clean and you don’t have to share a bathroom with the people down the hall.) Now for $250 bucks a night I would expect to stay in a nice hotel. It might not be the Ritz, but it should be nice.

After an hour of driving up and down the streets trying to find the hotel, we saw a tile sign above the doorway. It looked awful. When I say awful, I mean that I was ready to get back in the car and head to the nearest luxury hotel. One of my other travel buddies first mentioned “Is this neighborhood safe at night?” and then later said “well, they have your credit card info. We should go check the rooms.”

We walked up to the front of the hotel. Old, dilapidated tiles reading the name of the hotel were mounted to the top of the stucco door frame. A locked iron gate stood about 8 feet tall and a speaker box was on the side of the wall. We rang the bell and waited. The woman on the other end of the phone ushered us upstairs. We climbed one, then two flights of stairs. At the top was a large cobblestone courtyard. A large palm tree was the focal point for this garden, while other large trees and vines surrounded the courtyard, providing much needed shade from the hot day.

We asked to see the rooms before getting the key. The woman at the front desk looked shocked. The door man showed up to our rooms. They were clean, simple, not luxurious. I would say that was a 99 buck a night room by European standards, not a $250 a night room. We figured we would make do and stay at the hotel. Later that night I noticed a little dry rot in the floor of the bathroom. Scott had a good point. He said, “For $250 I would expect them to get rid of the dry rot.”

What to do
So, the first day in Lisbon started out shaky. For day #2 we decided to visit St George’s castle. Lisbon is quite hilly so, I was thrilled to take a cab there. Once inside we immediately noticed the enormity of the castle grounds. Now, I’ve been to castles. I’ve been to castles in Austria, the UK, Spain, Germany and other various places in Europe. St. George’s castle put them all to shame. The castle is huge. You could imagine how in its time the castle would be a city in itself.

The view of the Tagus river from the castle is amazing so, be sure to spend some time on the “patio” and take some pictures. When you venture in the castle, you will see that the walls are pretty well in tact. Many tourists walked up the narrow stair cases up to the top of several levels, overlooking the center of the (now open air) castle to one side and the city to the other.

Visiting the castle was a spectacular way to spend the day. I highly recommend it.

Tavira and Southern Portugal

The Algarve is the region in the south of Portugal, facing Africa. It was not at all what I expected. We traveled by car from Marbella, in the south of Spain, to Tavira. The hot humid air of Spain was soon replaced by a sweltering dry heat. Also, along the car ride, I noticed that the soil in Portugal is of a red variety; sometimes it's coral, sometimes dark red.

We stayed in a Pousada. Pousadas are spread over Portugal. They are former convents, monasteries or castles that have been converted to hotels. After talking with the attendant at the front desk, I learned that the government does provide some sort of funding for restoration of these buildings but, they are managed by hotel management companies.

We stayed at the Pousada de Tavira – Convento de Graca. I must admit to you that I was a bit impressed by the restoration of the Pousada. It had been restored just a few years prior and looked incredible. The rooms were simple, yet classy, and had a soft (but just firm enough) bed with down pillows and comforter.

The first night after the long drive from Marbella to Tavira, we decided to have dinner at the hotel. The menu of the evening was Moroccan cuisine. We were pleasantly surprised by the food. Bream was the served in several ways throughout the 5 courses, consisting of fish with dates, dried nuts and fruits. (I later learned that Bream is a local Portuguese white fish. It actually tasted a lot like sea bass, though I understand they are different species of fish.) The dinner was excellent and the staff was quite nice.

We spent the following day exploring Tavira, a sea side town where you will find snorkeling, fishing and boating excursions available. I’m not much of a sun bunny, or a water person. Rather, the four of us preferred to wander the streets of Tavira, snapping photos and helping out the economy with purchases from yet another Zara.

On the way back to the Pousada, we took a detour and visited one of the golf resorts. The South of Portugal is littered with golf resorts where the weary Northern European traveler can sun themselves and golf. The massive golf resorts and hot weather provide a change from the other variable weather you might find in Europe (especially Northern Europe). The golf resorts are huge; many of them encompass miles of courses, condos, restaurants and hotels.

Once you get out of the resort, it’s noticeable. Portugal is a poorer country than Spain. I was honestly expecting that the countries would be similar. I think that would be saying California borders Arizona so, they are similar.

Return to Espana

After an exciting year of getting engaged, starting a new job and moving 2,000 miles away, I finally went on vacation (thank God). I went back to a favorite haunt, the Marriott Playa Andalusia in southern Spain.

Getting Around
Driving in Spain is always a bit of religious experience - by that I mean that you say “oh God” a lot. The Spaniards, as do most other Europeans, drive like a bat out of hell in their 4 cylinder piece of shit car. Everyone there has a piece of shit car, unless you have tons of money or just want people to think so. They have the POS car because of the fact that parking can, at times, be like bumper cars and door dings are frequent. As usual, I drove. I get car sick, plane sick, train sick, sea sick; let’s just say it’s best if I drive.

My Dad’s girlfriend, Marilyn, told me that I “drive like a local”. I’m not too sure if that’s a compliment but, I’ll take what I can get. Many Americans like to drive within the lines (just like coloring) and can’t seem to grasp the concept that people will go when the light is red and drive in the middle of two lanes. This is why driving in Europe is not for the faint of heart. This is why a close family friend prefers tours. He said that he can’t handle the driving and would prefer that someone else would do it. I guess no one told him he could hire a driver for the day, too.

The Costa del Sol
The south of Spain is fondly referred to as the “Costa del sol”. This scenic area consisting of more condos and golf courses then you’ve even seen, is the home away from home and FAV vacation destination of many Brits, Germans and a few Americans, too. The weather is HOT in the summer. And when I say HOT, I mean it’s freaking’ HOT. The humidity can be surprising at times (varying from degrees of sticky to just plain unbearable); coupled with the high temperatures in July and August, it’s uncomfortable. We traveled in September and it was still on the warm side - temperatures ranging from 80 to 85 degrees.

Many Brits and Germans come to soak up the sun and the heat, escaping from the cold North. Being pasty white, I’ve never been one to sit by the pool. This doesn’t seem to stop the Brits. You can practically feel the heat radiating off of their bodies as the cook in the hot sun and maintain their sun burn for a constant week.

What to do
If you’re a golfer, you’re in heaven. The only problem is that many of the golf courses are expensive (about 150 Euros, or $210) and many of them require a handicap. Being a novice golfer, I was told by my father that those of us infrequent players would be out of luck without a handicap. Oh well…

There are many white cities in the south. The white cities of Spain are famous. Living in close proximity to your neighbors, in the hilly regions, the hills provided protection from invaders. Later, “White Villages” became convenient farming communities, allowing the farmers to live in a protected community. Today the white village, or pueblos blancos, remain. (You can find more information on the white villages of Spain by visiting http://www.andalucia.com/villages/malaga.htm.)

If you decide to venture to a white village, note that the parking can be treacherous. (We had a slight incident in Casares and nearly ended up in the Castle – long story.) Be aware of the giant blue “P”, for public parking, and you should be fine.

My fiancée, Scott was interested in checking out the wines of Spain. Finding a bottle shop in the Costa del Sol is few and far between. Many of the wine growing regions are in the North, not the South. Determined to drink good wine on our trip, we asked the concierge if there was a wine shop in the area.

He recommended a place called “The Museum of Wine” in Mijas. I’ve been to Mijas. It’s one of the white villages. It’s very picturesque. Parking is a bitch. If you visit Mijas, don’t be cheap - park in the parking garage. Trust me, it’s worth the money. After traveling along the A7 highway to and then up a steep grade to get to Mijas only to squeeze your POS 2.5 cylinder rental car into a parking spot the size of a shoe box, a glass of wine sounds like a fantastic idea.

The concierge gave me a map and noted where the “Museo de Vino” is located. White cities are elusive, though. They are deceiving in terms of size and also in terms of where each street is actually located. After a small debate about is it down this street or that, I spotted a cop. In Europe they’re happy to give you directions so feel free to ask. After all, there’s no crispy crème in Mijas; what else is the guy going to do?

We venture up another small narrow street (almost an ally) and there it was. This wine shop is much more then a wine shop. For 15 Euros you can get tapas and 3 wine tastings. Or for 25 Euros you can get 5 tastings and 5 tapas. There were 4 of us who had the wine tastings and, believe me, we didn’t starve or lack for wine.

The tapas started out as typical Spanish hours d’ouvres. Aged cheese, salty ham and spicy chorizo were starters. From there were had the ratatouille with tuna (amazing) and pork with a balsamic reduction sauce. ALL FOR 15 EUROS (including wine). The proprietor of the shop is a wine connoisseur without being a snob. All you have to do is tell him what types of wine you want and he’ll bring out customized tasting, just for you.

Scott and I actually came back a second day and enjoyed tapas and wine. We had nowhere to be all day so, we just talked with the shopkeepers about wine and watched the tour groups from the cruises go in and out of the store. We were asked several times how we got that glass of tempranillo or if we were going to get back on the bus. They were all shocked when we said that we drove our own car and were going to continue enjoying our wine throughout the afternoon.

Here’s the web site for the wine Museum. It’s all in Spanish but, it lists their phone number and address.
http://www.museovinomalaga.org/

More Food
If you didn’t eat enough during your wine tasting/tapas afternoon, you can head west to Estapona. One fabulous restaurant is Tikitano. It’s a challenge to find but, the food is incredible. This culinary gem is actually right on the sand making for scenic lunches and romantic sunset dinners.

My recommendation would be the risotto appetizer. They know how to make it. Being an Italian girl, I know if someone screws up the risotto. Theirs is top notch. Just about anything else on the menu would make your mouth water, as well. I had the sea bass and it melted in your mouth. If you feeling like a big shot, Louis XIII is available for a mere 225 Euros a shot.

Check out the web site for directions – trust me, you’ll need them. And you can make reservations on line.
http://tikitano.net/

More to come from Spain. These are just a few of my favorites and suggestions.

Shoe Alert!

For those of my amigos who have a shoe obsession, I've found something wonderful to share with you. The web site http://www.6pm.com/ carries shoes that are last seasons or discontinued items from zappos.com. They have things like privo's for $25. You can't beat that with a stick. You can feed your shoe obsession AND maintain your budget. How FABULOUS is that?

Isn't this moving thing fun?

Until now, I have never moved across country. As a matter of fact, I’ve never moved anywhere that’s not within 100 miles of my family. After my Mom died I moved back in with my Dad and have spent the past 2 years enjoying our beautiful family home with spacious kitchen and 6 bedrooms. I love the backyard with grape vines, peaches and blackberries in the back yard. Somehow, I figured it would be just as easy to move down the street as it is to move across country. Now I like to think that my nativity comes from my artificially blond hair and I’m not just stupid. But little did I know what moving cross country would really involve.

First of all, I have a dog named Cava. She’s the best yellow lab in the world. (Yes, I’m one of those crazy dog people that feeds their dog holistic dog food.) My fiancée loves the dog. As a matter of fact he will call and ask how “my dog” is doing, I think just to get my goat a bit. My fiancée also has a cat named Boo Boo. Did I mention that the only thing in the world that Cava hates is cats?

Thank GAWD that my company gave me a relocation package, paying for the move (one less thing to pay for). There was just the issue of getting there. Cava had taken car trips with me before but never for hours on end. The funny thing about the dog is that I don’t think she knows she’s a dog. When we go for car rides she jumps into the front seat (if available) and sits there, looking out the front window. That’s right… she never rides with her head out the window.

One day I thought that if she just tried it, she would love it. We rolled down my street at a snails pace. I quietly, sneakily rolled down the window, acting as nonchalant as I possibly could. I quickly shoved Cava’s head out the window with my right hand, steering the car with the other. After about 2 seconds she shook loose and gave me a look like I had lost my mind. I ended the battle of the open window right there. Why bother? I just turn on the AC and she’s happy as a clam.

Despite Cava’s distain for cats, I thought that after a while, a slight period of adjustment perhaps, that Boo Boo and Cava would learn to love each other. In the meantime, I’ve kept Cava on a leash or the two of them in separate rooms.

Yesterday I was unpacking yet another box in the kitchen when I heard a faint “meow”. I just figured that since Cava was out that the cat was in the laundry room (conveniently behind closed doors). About 10 seconds passed and I heard a louder “MEOW”. At the same time, Cava and I rose to our feet, both realizing that the cat was out. Cava and I left the kitchen, her going one way, me going another. I stopped when I saw the cat, Boo Boo, sauntering up the stairs with a big fat “MEOWWWW”.

Two seconds later, it was on. Cava started with a growl. The cat ran under the kitchen table and Cava followed, snarling and barking the whole way while the chairs at the table wobbled and moved as they passed. I followed, trying to catch Cava, yelling “no, no, no”. But, they were too fast for me. First they were down the stairs and then back up in a flash, the whole time Boo Boo had an expression if to say “what the hell just happened” and Cava was practically foaming at the mouth.

I finally caught Cava on second pass up the stairs; Boo Boo found a hiding place. Cava finally calmed down and I sat down at the kitchen table to catch my breath. I guess this is all part of that “adjustment period” that people talk about when you move in with someone. I just keep telling myself, it’s just like the Brady Bunch but with sans Marsha and sans maid. Just another adventure…

Yet Another FAB Chicago Trip

My fabulous fiancé, Scott, suggested that we attend the Frank Lloyd Wright house walk this year. Though I have done house walks before, I had not heard of the FLW house walk. As the name implies, you walk through restored turn of the century homes. What they might not tell you is that there’s a lot of standing, too.

Perhaps they sold too many tickets this year but, every home that we tried to enter had a huge line. I just tried to think of it this way: what else am I going to do on a beautiful Saturday? But, after a while, I got sick of standing and wondered if I had enough culture for the day.

My advice is to wear the most comfortable shoes and clothes that you can and stop for lunch. (Seriously, wear the Nike’s and forgo the cute wedges; you’ll thank me later.) Scott and I stopped at the café recommended in the FLW brochure. Though the café was crowded, there was no wait for a table.

If you feel like helping out the local economy, don’t forget to stop by the FLW home and studio. There are several vendors with the product out. You can buy stained glass kits or even art deco inspired jewelry.

The People
The people who attend such an event should not be classified as normal people. You will not be standing with the unwashed masses of the society, like you do at the DMV. Rather, you will meet the most interesting people at events such as these. They’re educated, they’re into architecture, and they have something to say.

Now, I don’t have any issues with chatting with new people. (As a matter of fact I even passed on kissing the blarney stone in Ireland, as I already possess the gift of gab.) But, for those of you who are shy, feel free to start up a conversation with the people in line next to you. They’re probably very nice and quite interesting.

The Weather
As I’m learning, the weather in the Midwest can be quite variable. We were extremely lucky to have a breezy 75 degree day for the house walk. As we finished up at the last house, dark ominous clouds rolled in. The weather man mentioned that there was a slight chance of rain that day, but I honestly wasn’t expecting it. According to the weather people there’s always a chance of rain, right?

We continued our 10 minute walk to the car and headed back to the hotel before changing for dinner. About a minute after we got to the car it was a torrential downpour. Being from Southern California, I’m not used the variability in the weather. In So Cal it's 75 degrees and sunny all year round. And if it does rain, you’ll see “Storm watch 2008” splattered across the TV screen, even for just 4 inches of rain.

Apparently, heavy rain isn’t abnormal weather for the Midwest (yet another thing I’ll have to get used to). I just keep telling myself that it’s a good thing and dealing with erratic changes in the weather teaches me to be flexible (and keep an umbrella in the car).

Food
As I have previously mentioned, you can get a really good meal in Chicago. There are just a million amazing places there. Scott chose the Chophouse for our first night’s dinner.

The Chophouse is located in the River North neighborhood in a quaint restored Victorian Brownstone. It’s the kind of place where you’d order scotch neat with your steak. There’s a piano bar downstairs where you can enjoy your Cosmo in the dimly lit and terribly busy restaurant. It’s perfect for people watching.

The steak was beyond amazing, however it they are massive. We ordered the creamed spinach and mashed potatoes. Each steak is about a million ounces… well, maybe not, but they’re big. The smallest steak is the 10 ounce fillet. With all of the sides it’s impossible to finish it. My suggestion is to share with a friend or take it home for a little midnight snack.

As usual, I brought the camera so that the waitress could take our picture, because I do love impromptu pictures. The people at the table next to us asked if it were a special occasion. One large, burly man said “What? Are you two getting married or something?”

Although we hadn’t told many people about or engagement (as my ring was still being made), I enthusiastically responded “yes, we are getting married”. It was champagne all around and the nice gentlemen next to us treated us to champagne and a toast.

For more info on the chophouse visit their web site: http://www.chicagochophouse.com/

It was another fabulous weekend in Chicago. Scott and I plan to attend the house walk again next year. Maybe we’ll see you there.

New Restaurant In Orange County (AKA: the OC)

First of all, I’d like to mention that I hate saying “the OC”. I’m not 16 and need to shorten it to think it’s cool. It’s just where I live. One thing that I truly hate about Orange County is that it’s become overrun with chain restaurants and mediocre high priced food. Where there were once charming neighborhood restaurants, yet another California Pizza Kitchen stands. With all of the same food, what’s a foodie to do?

Luckily, a new restaurant has opened in Newport Beach on PCH called Cucina Alessa. This gem of a restaurant features incredible Italian food. Alessandro, the restaurant’s proprietor, will charm you with his Italian accent and love of cuisine. And, you won’t believe this, they actually make their own noodles there – oh, so good. For those of you who have only had the dried, manufactured noodles, I’m sorry. You need to experience the fresh noodles.

I will warn you that parking is treacherous. Try parking on PCH – their parking lot only holds about 5 cars. It’s worth the trouble, though.

Check it out! http://www.cucinaalessa.com/

Happy Eating!