#2209: Tuesday, January 1: Happy New Year!

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Post 2209
- 8 years and 1 day since I started this blog -

  

Journal
(written 1/1/19)

Read this once (it won't change for the rest of the trip(s): I'll be linking this post to Facebook. If that's how you got here, here's some background: About 8 years ago I started this blog as a food journal. I had a medical situation and needed to lose weight. Initially, that's all I did here: Journal my food intake and my weight. It contributed to helping me lose 20+% of my body weight in 6 months, and continuing has kept me on track since then. I started adding commentary after a while, but lately it has become infrequent. 

New Year's Eve started off well.

I took a walk to the ATM to replenish Euros, had breakfast at Sabor Doce, the magnificent pastry shop that all of Montenegro seems to have been built around (not really true) (but seems that way to me).

I had a delicious toasted seafood sandwich - and an apple danish (and it be a danish in Portugal?) with a couple of americanos.

The day was made for walking, although there wasn't much interesting in the rest of my hour-long walk. Montenegro is mostly residential.

Later, after exchanging pleasantries and happy new year wishes with my host, Silvia, I took the short walk to MN Restaurante. The main door was closed, with a sign indicating you had to enter through the cafe next door.

The four tables at the cafe were empty, but the dining room was already full, and rocking. I was seated at one of the cafe tables, next to a child's plastic foos-ball game.

Bread and sardine paté came quickly, along with a carafe of the house red wine. A little girl, maybe eight years old, came out from the dining room, and set up the foos-ball game. She obviously expected me to play with her, and, frankly, I had nothing to do, so I did.

I moved the game so that I could play seated (standing it would have been much to low and uncomfortable). And then I tried to let her score all the points. Big fail. One way or another, the ball kept landing in her net.

She looked grim and determined. When she finally scored a goal, I offered a high-five but she shook her head no and glared at me.

It was uncomfortably similar to relationships I'd had in the past. After a while, she left. She had never said a word. I felt a little bad.

Shortly after, the soup came, accompanied by apologies for the long delay, due to the kitchen being slammed - apparently, they took reservations for the night and were full, and had seated me, alone in the corner, like Baby in Dirty Dancing, as an accommodation. Except for me, the restaurant was closed to walk-ins.

The soup was delicious. It was a thick, pale-green vegetable soup, made hearty with fava beans.

It was also tongue-burning hot at first slurp. So I ate slowly, and sipped my wine, and waited for my main course, langostino rice. I do love me some crawfish.

The waiter had time to make two stops, about twenty minutes apart, to apologize and tell me it would be our in three minutes.

When it finally came, it was delicious, but sadly, there was not a lot of langostino meat to be had, less than in any other meal I've ever eaten with that ingredient (I'm looking at you, étouffée}.

I still ate it with enjoyment, finished the wine, and dialed up my Uber into Faro.

I didn't know exactly where Faro's New Year's Eve celebration actually was. I knew when it started, I knew there was live music, a fireworks-set-to-music show at midnight, followed by more music. That was all I'd been able to find out. But I figured if I went back to Cidade Velha, and asked the driver to drop me off at the party, I'd get there.

I asked my driver to take me to the party, and even without much English, she knew exactly where to go - back to the marina I'd visited the other day. She dropped me off to the side of a huge stage, among an audience I could not gauge the size of. Just as I got there, an on-stage announcer started the music. There were people as far as the eye could see.

The huge stage had been built since my last walk through the area, because there'd been nothing there only a few days ago. That was impressive. The sound was impressive, too. Good sound at high volume isn't easy, but there it was. The band playing was Iris. I knew this because there was a huge lighted sign saying Iris above and behind them.

It took a moment to digest the sound of the band; for one thing, they were (obviously) singing in Portuguese, and that meant that not only didn't I understand a word, but it made the phrasing of the vocals just a little bit odd to my ear - and there were a lot of vocals: the lead, the lead guitar, keyboard player, drummer, and a 4-person backup group). And, everybody - I mean everybody - was singing along, every word. In fact, the lead singer frequently let the crowd fill in the vocals ("...got myself a bee-eer!").

So Iris was a pretty well known band. By the middle of the second number, I was getting a Springsteen and E-Street Band sort of vibe from them - not a bad thing as far as I was concerned. There was a lot of familiar stage posturing, and between-song banter with the audience. But the music suggested it as well - the dynamics, the song structure.

I found myself in one of my favorite concert spots, near the sound booth (you're always going to get the best sound where the sound guys are listening) and just enjoyed the feel of the moment. Everybody had their phones out taking pictures or videos of the band, so I did, too. Solidarity, brothers and sisters.

At one point, the band started a song, and let the audience sing the lyric. Then they stopped playing completely, turned the lights on the audience, and, with the audience supplying the music, they {Iris) all took out their phones and took selfies and pictures of each other with the audience behind them.

While I had my phone out, at about 11:30, I got a FaceTime call from my friends Marco and Sophie. I couldn't hear anything they were saying, and I'm certain they couldn't hear me, but I panned around to show them the scene they'd found me in, and I could tell they were properly impressed. (I called them back before I went to bed - I was right about the audio and the impressive visual).

The band finished their set at 11:55, and the stage went completely dark. Canned music started, and then one of the best fireworks shows I've ever seen (outside of some remarkable July 4ths in New York City) started. I felt a tap on the shoulder, turned to find a plastic champagne flute being offered, and then filled with something sparkling and alcoholic. Gladly accepting, I raised my glass along with the ten or fifteen thousand other people, drank it off just as midnight came - you could tell by the fireworks and the perfusion of confetti that filled the air, along with thunderous cheering.

I decided to take a selfie video with the fireworks in the background, to send out and wish everyone a happy new year, knowing that for my friends, the new year wouldn't arrive for five hours.

The fireworks go on for some time, and then they're over. There isn't the big final display, throwing everything in the air, like in every fireworks display I've ever seen - the synching to the music means that when the last song ends, that's it. I like it. It has been a spectacular show.

On stage, the announcer is giving the credits for all the supporters of the show - and people are respectfully applauding. He finishes, and a DJ takes over the stage, and Euro-pop disco fills the marina.

Time for me to go. I decide to walk through the area of shops and restaurants to see if I can pick up a gelato. I settle for some churros and a liter of water.

I keep walking away from the crowds to get to a spot I think will be Uber-accessible, since the area I'm in has a lot of pedestrian- and one-way streets only. The temperature in the high fifties means I'm comfortable and, even though I'm tired, the walking is easy.

Just as I'm dialing up an Uber, a cab stops next to me. I think, that's fate. And more. The cab driver asks if I enjoyed the show. I did. I tell him I enjoyed the band I saw, and he enthusiastically tells me all about the band - how they all went to high school together in a small town in the Algarve, made their reputation here, and they are home-town favorites (I'm thinking to myself, 'Wow, Greetings From Asbury Park!' - they really are like Bruce and the E-Street Band). He tells me they have had many hits in Portugal, which I had already guessed from the crowd knowing all their song lyrics. He says the guitarist has been recognized as one of the best, and is very in-demand by other rock and jazz musicians. So, there you are.

I get back to my room grateful for the good day I've had, and looking forward to the new year to come, although. with no expectations.

Food Comment

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