Verbal snapshots

Portugal is Roman, Moor, Jew, topped off with a heavy, at times oppressive, blanket of Catholic. It is olives, wine, blue sky, and the sea.

Listening to Fado music in Evora was unexpectedly wonderful. A tiny club with 6 singers. There were moments when the audience was humming along as back-up for the singer. Lovely.

Porto was the kindness of strangers, when we arrived at 9 p.m. without a proverbial room at the inn. More music. This time fado was in a shiny fancy cafe Guarany, and then a fabulous Latin band (Corazon Espinado, La Ladrona, I will survive merengue style) on the street. A lot of port.

Sagres was a perfect cove of a beach, reading A God strolling in the cool of the evening (by Mario de Carvalho), the very edge of Europe before you drop into the deep blue sea (of which we had a divine view from our pristine room).