Tag Archives: portuguese

Da silver Hyundai

Da silver Da Silva Hyundai
Da silver Da Silva Hyundai

After a seemingly short 2 hour drive to Bela Bela we stumbled gratefully into the resort’s air-conditioned reception. I made eye-contact with Jasmine who had our checking in details but she was busy with someone else, and so she handed us over to a colleague to give us our keys and gate pass.

Almost drowned by the hum of the air-conditioner and the babble of the other voices in the room, she mouthed a question which sounded to me to end in “da silva.”

Thinking she was confirming my surname, I responded with, “No, Martins.”

Husband behind me thinking: “How the heck did she know we were Portuguese?”

Indignant me thinking: “Humph…does she think all Portuguese people are called Da Silva?”

Checking-in person looks at me with a puzzled expression, looks down at the sheet of paper in her hand and asks: ” D’you have the silver Hyundai?”

Ah…!

Almost lost in translation, this interchange had me and husband giggling to ourselves the whole weekend.

Bittersweet and lightning fast

Cafe Nicola at the Rossio and restaurants waiting for lunch patrons
Cafe Nicola at the Rossio and restaurants waiting for lunch patrons

In 2008 I decided not to return to Portugal ever again. In that year we came on a lightning (goodbye) visit to my Mom-in-law, with the knowledge that it would probably be the last time we’d be seeing her. As it turned out it was also the last time I saw my Gran and my Uncle. My Gran and Mom-in-law passed away that year, and my Uncle passed away last week. So here I am again, on another bittersweet and lightning (sorry guys, I’m not able to see you this time around) visit.

Lisbon is awash with tourists, foreign languages heard everywhere. I’ve watched with amazement huge tourist busses squeeze their way through the narrow streets of the old parts of the city. Despite the economic and political crises there is an interesting vibe about this historical city – something funky, cosmopolitan (off-course :-)) and young. The fact that it’s summer probably has a lot to do with it.

In spite of the reason for my visit, I’m enjoying the coffee – it’s sublime – I’ve yet to find a bad cup of coffee. Every second shop is a coffee shop, the ubiquitous “pasteis de nata”, “rissois de camarão” and “pasteis de bacalhau” a must-have companion.

It’s scorching hot, 38 degrees on most days. Clothes stick to the body which have to be peeled off. It’s almost 10pm and it’s still light, and hot. Fires have started, already decimating acres of forest land. Just walking on the street guarantees sunburn. Walking into an airconditioned shop is marvelous and finding an airconditioned taxi is heaven!

One cannot understimate the state of mind that such visits bring along with them. The future will in all likelihood include visits to Portugal once again, longer ones, and I’m counting on happier ones.

Never say never again, isn’t that what it’s all about?