alejestem

I like cake. I can picture my death certificate stating “Death by cake”. So, you can imagine my shock and delight to discover that the first time I visited the neighbourhood of Belém in August 2006, I completely missed the third most famous place to visit – La Fabrica de Pasteis de Belém (the Factory of Belém cakes). This “factory” has been in existence since 1837 and since those heady days has been churning out these delicacies (made to a closely guarded secret recipe) for the baying and adoring local population. I made my pilgrimage on a Saturday evening. Big mistake. The place was mobbed. I thought that mabye finally, the shop/café selling the cakes was closing down and there was a run on the final stocks. But no. Such is life in the Fabrica. The coffee shop itself is cavernous. Huge cannot describe it and not one seat to be had. People were fighting to get to the counter.
What you get is a box with six “pasteis” (pronounced pasteysh). They are still hot. Hot and custardy. They give you a little pack of cinnamon to shake over them if you are that way inclined. The first mouthful of hot custard and puff pastry is like a bomb going off in your mouth and you rapidly scoff the rest of the tartlet. You are anxiously waiting to finish so you can have a second one and by the third you are starting to feel like a big custard-covered pig. The remaining three cakes served as a pre-breakfast treat the next morning.

IF YOU DO NOT BUY THESE “PASTEIS” YOU HAVE NOT REALLY BEEN IN PORTUGAL!

When we left the Regency Hotel, my eyes were drawn to a shop sign for “The Wrong Shop” (Calçada do Sacramento, 25). I made a mental note to revisit and that’s what I did the very next day. Was it worth it? Yes indeed. I discovered a very ironic Portuguese sense of humour. This shop sells “playful and useful” objects. They look at things in an unusal and original way. They have a team of talented young Portuguese designers who create “wrong” gifts which are closely related to traditional Portuguese symbols. My favourites included the “Wrong Gift” which was a snowglobe with the Virgin of Fatima, the picture of the Mona Lisa with a hosptial background and the tagline “She tried to be a nurse and failed”. Ironic t-shirts with messages like “Portugal is just a country beside Spain” and “Portugal apologises for creating Fado” were must-buys. The poor girl in the shop thought I was a big freak as I walked around taking photos of all the “objects” and laughing to myself. In the end, I bought lots of things to bring home as gifts. This is a place you HAVE to visit if you want to find funny and original gifts that nobody else will have. Trust me. My friends are still laughing about theirs!

In February, I was lucky enough to spend two weeks working in Lisbon. Good fortune was with me and the weather held out while I was there. On my first evening in Lisbon, my friends brought me to a place everyone should visit at the beginning of their trip to Lisbon. On the Rua Nova do Almada 114 in the atmospheric neighbourhood of Chiado, you will find the Lisboa Regency Chiado Hotel. Like all hotels, it has its lobby, its bedrooms, its restaurants etc, but the most amazing thing about this hotel is its beautiful rooftop terrace with stunning views over Baixa, the Castilo de San Jorge and the Cathedral. Sipping a reassuring cup of tea and watching the sun go down over the Tago river in the open air is a true pleasure. From your vantage point in this “crow’s nest” you can choose all the things you want to visit during your visit to the beautiful Portuguese capital city. And all for a measly 1-2€. Who needs a journey organiser?

Dublin used to be a grey, shabby, run-down and depressed town when I got there in 1991. Since then, it has turned from the Ugly Duckling of Europe into something of a swan! Amazing what being awash with money will do for a place. Hmmmm Hmmmm.

My Top 15 things about Dublin in no particular order

1. Howth Village. Get the DART (city train) to Howth and walk around this sea-side village. Walk along the cliffs to the lighthouse. Get fish and chips in the village. Smell the sea.

2. Georges Street Market. Second hand everything. Except virgins. Clothes, books, cds, vinyls, old maps, stamps and coins and that’s only the half of it. You can get a tattoo and buy some delicious olives or homemade sweets.

3. Winding Stair Bookshop. When I lived in Dublin, this used to be a bookshop on three floors with a cafe. They did the best soups and you could sit reading a book and if you were lucky you might get a table by the window, with a view over the Ha’penny bridge. Its a comforting feeling to be sitting down as you watch everyone else scurrying over the bridge like white mice on a treadmill. It closed down for a while and its opened up again… I wonder if it still has the cafe?

4. Irish Museum of Modern Art. It rains a lot in Ireland, so why not go inside and get some culcha. It is found in what was previously the Royal Hospital in Kilmainham. The last time I visited there was an exhibition of giants’ dresses. THEY WERE HUMONGOUS. We almost got thrown out for taking photographs of them and modelling beside them.

5. Dublin Public Art. There are bronze figures all around the city to imitate and take photos with. Witty Dubliners have given them all rather cutting names – the hags with bags (beside the Ha’penny Bridge), the tart with the cart (Molly Malone, near the Trinity end of Grafton Street and many more. All monuments in Dublin get a local “nickname”. My favourite was the doomed millenium clock which was submerged in the River Liffey as a countdown to the big 00. As the sludge started to blot out the numbers, it became affectionately known as the “time in the slime”. It cost 1,000,000 Irish pounds to install and clean and was heaved out of the river well before 01.01.2000. But the tax-payers cheer happily anyway.

6. LUAS – Tram thing. It looks groovy travelling around the city. What purpose it serves I have know idea. But you have to go on it once. Dubliners again have nicknamed the two routes in line with the destinations. The North line being slightly more salubrious is fondly called the “Daniel Day Luas” and the Southern bound route (which is slighly more down-heel) is the “Jerry Lee Luas”.

7. My brothers are big GAA supporters and have been to matches in Croker (Croke Park). I think its been remodelled since I left Ireland and it must be cool to go to a match here.
If you can see a hurling match, you will come to understand the intricacies of what most non-insiders refer to as “stick-fighting”. May Christy Ring rest in peace.

8. The Gaiety Theatre. Once upon a time, this was a pretty cool place to go and hear salsa music, funk, jazz etc. There were movie projections in the main theatre and three floors with different atmospheres. I think it is still on-going.

9. Beaches. We may not have the sun but we do have a pretty amazing coastline. Dublin in case you didn´t know is on that coastline. The Fortyfoot used to be a male-only nudist beach. That is, until the laydeez took them on. Now, it is a fun-for- all-the-family beach and swimwear is the order of the day. You can also visit Killiney Beach and climb the hill. Remember, you will be mingling with the hoi-polloi so make sure you are wearing only the very best bikini or whatever your choice of swimwear is. Stains or polyester pimples will not be a good look. You may bump into Bono or even Enya (the latter shrouded in white tulle and surrounded by blue hummingbirds. Actually, lets scratch out Enya.

10. Live Music. I´m not going to embarrass myself by trying to pretend that I know where is “happening” now, after living in Madrid for 4 years. Suffice to say, sifting through listings magazines in Dublin, you are likely to come across some interesting gigs. I remember seeing a lot of artists before they made it big (Cranberries, David Gray) in some places that are now but a memory…

11. Dublin names. Adopt one before you arrive and you will be the envy of your friends when you get there. For those of you going North try Anto, Deco etc (for gents) and Janeh (Janet) for the ladies. If you are going south (lucky you!), good oirish names are the order of the day Aifric, Sorcha, Saoirse should do nicely if you are a cailín (try saying them after a few scoops) and Oisín and Ferdia if you a buachaill. Names are everything.

12. Labels too. In the new worldly wise, nouveau rich Dub-lin.
BT2 for the label queens. Go in. Try to conceal your shock at the prices as you are followed around by in-store security and then head straight for Dunnes Stores or Penneys where single digit purchases are still possible.

13. Guinness. The smell of the hops in certain days is unmistakeable.

14. For spiritual needs, a special little place is the Greek Orthodox Church in Arbour Hill. Make it for Easter Saturday night and watch it all unfold. It will be packed.. but the singing, the candles, kissing the priest’s ring and getting a free egg all make it worth it. Remember their Easter falls on different days. This is not a joke. Something you might not see otherwise.

15. Dublin airport. It used to be my gateway OUT of Ireland. An escape from the routine of everyday life whereas now its welcoming, small and even cosy. Rose tinted glasses coming off right now! In fairness, it is not a bad little place. But God.. when are they going to get some decent Christmas decorations? I am petrified of the big white bubble snow-men now.

Have fun wherever you go

I could start writing about Tallinn, but I´m not going to. That will be for another day.

My trip to Estonia was a very spiritual one. Estonia is small and does things in a low-key way. Imagine my surprise then, when I discovered that the fourth largest lake in Europe, Lake Peipsi is in Estonia.

The Estonian shore of this immense lake is dotted with little Old Believer villages and I was privileged to meet some of these fascinating people.

Way back in 1666, the Russian church schismed when the then Patriarch Nikon introduced reforms. The Russian texts, form of blessing oneself, rules for bowing and spelling of Christ’s name were all to be changed. Those who did not accept the changes were persecuted and killed. Many were forced to flee.
These Old Believers or “starovery” found their way to territories not under Russian power, so Estonia was perfect given that it was during that time ruled by Sweden.

Old Believers villages follow a particlar pattern – there is only one street. The shore-line of Lake Peipsi has mile after mile of these quaint little one-street villages. The worship house is usually the biggest building in the village and most are painted brightly in yellows, blues and pinks.

For Old Believers, people of other faiths are seen as “aliens” but they have never been into forcing their beliefs on non-believers. They are more interested in preserving their own faith. Hence, they have lived in relative peace for centuries (except for the continuing persecution of those living in Russian held areas).

Old Believers preserve many long-held traditions and the most important of these is hospitality. Even if that means being hospitable to a person like me – a gay Roman Catholic! Our arrival in the village provoked the immediate suspicion and interest of the inhabitants. Children came running over to say hello to these foreigners. Net curtains twitched as Old Believer desperate housewives got a good luck at the new arrivals.

One woman was braver than the others, and invited us into her house to show us her beautiful icon of Saint Nicholas. She blessed herself with two fingers rather than the three now used in the Orthodox world. Next she showed us her pride and joy – a huge, ornamental samovar. She offered us tea and we noticed that none of the family touched any of the plates or utensils that we used. Later we discovered that it is a sin for them to share tableware or utensils with aliens.

Our visit to this region culminated with a dinner in the village of Kolkja. Here there was a little restaurant called the “Kolkja Kala Ja Sibularestoran” or Kolkja First and Onion Restaurant. It was like two worlds crashing into each other at 150kph. Four gay men and two Old Believer female waiters. I would love to have heard the conversations in the kitchen that day. Anyway, the food was amongst the freshest that I have ever tasted. The houses around the restaurant had long onion beds running right down to the lake – so I guess this is why it was a fish and onion restaurant.

Estonians are not ostentatious and in a world so accustomed to sensory overload, it would be easy to simply miss Estonia altogether. Estonia forces you to retrain your senses and be open to the subtleties of the world. A birch forest by a small lake, a yellow painted farmouse with a horse in a field, a beautiful sunset. You should go an enjoy.

It all started with my uncle who was living in Cyprus during the 1970s. His flatmate was Armenian. I remember my Mum telling me where it was and about how much time I spent poring over my atlas trying to find it. I was 4.

My next exposure to Armenia came in Jerusalem where I visited the Armenian churches. Armenia is one of the first places where Christianity was accepted and the Churches are beautiful. In both Jerusalem and in many parts of Turkey Churches are gradually being coerced into closing. These communities are being squeezed out.

Finally, I learned the sad history of Armenia in the 20th Century. The Armenian Genocide is one of the great unresolved scandals of the last 100 years and is not widely known in the “West”. I remember seeing the movie Ararat which deals with the tragedy and walking home from the cinema still crying. I vowed to visit Armenia one day.

Since then, I´ve bought some Armenian music (Armenian Navy Band) and am still wondering why pomegranates appear to be so important to Armenians.

After living in Spain for four years and putting up with the Spanish put downs of Portugal, I decided to go see for myself.

I fell in love in Lisbon. With Lisbon. The city is beautiful. The first thing to get your eye around are the tiles. At first, they may seem a little garish. But after a while, your eye is drawn to the intricate designs and no two buildings are the same colour.

I wish I could tell you about all the places we visited or the things that we discovered in the tiny side streets. On one, there was a little shrine to Saint Anthony decorated with fluorescent pink tinsel, fake pines branches and flowers. Delightfully tacky and poignant at the same time.

On Mondays, ALL tourist attractions close in Lisbon, and as we had hoofed it over from Madrid on a last-minute flight, we didn´t realise this. So, there we were, sitting at the Belem Tower, with our faces like two slapped arses.

So, we went for a drink to a little bar on the promenade between the Tower and the Monumento dos Descubridores. It was white, with white steel beams and a glass front and back. The grooves in between the beams were filled with 100s of orange balloons. It was all very euro-chic. We sat down and after a while realised that mabye we weren’t supposed to be there. But it was too late to move. We had just unwittingly gate-crashed a recording session of a famous local tv series. And like Hotel California, it was pretty easy to get in, but next darn impossible to escape. That was the only similary with the famous Hotel…. because once filming was in full swing, there were no more waiters. No more waiters means no more drinks.
After 40 minutes of waiting, I decided to do a sinpa (sin pagar)and as my friend refused to leave with me, I left him behind.
And that’s when the Chinese people appeared.

Yes, it was like a David Lynch movie. An entire Chinese wedding wandering around taking photographs in the Monumento dos Descubirdores. The bride, resplendant in white, veil and all and real live grandparents. For a while I wanted to gate-crash the wedding but then a thump on the back brought me back to reality and a quite miffed friend. (In the end, he too left without paying… but they ran after him, the shooting stopped and everybody was looking at him… ouch!)

Later that night we tried Acorda again. I’d already tried it on my first night. It is like a stew made of bread and cod. It sounds vile but if done well is delicious. Unfortunately, I chose wrong and what I got was like sweetish cod porridge. Those of a weak constitution please do not re-read the last sentence. I ended up just covering the plate with my serviette.

Portugal is a gem and I have spent the last few weeks berating myself for not going before.

Viva Portugal.

One thing you must know is that Denmark is NOT like Sweden. Copenhagen, while clean is not as pristine as say, Stockholm. The Swedes are highly fashion conscious to extremes, whereas the Danes are more laid back… oh, and one final thing. At the weekend, the Danes make a lot of noise.

It IS expensive in Denmark and you will tend to eat those Polsen (hot dog sausages)so beloved of the local populace. Believe me, they may be comfort food for your wallet but you will eventually have to splash out and eat something nutricious.

I was there in May. I stayed in a cheap but charming little hotel called the Hotel Rye. It is near the Parken football stadium. The owner was this really clued-in Danish lady called Sonia. She was just mad! Being in that hotel was like being in her home. She invited me to share a bottle of wine one evening when I was a little tired and wouldn´t go out.. and was always urging us to go the Christiania and buy some spliffs. That, according to her was the best way to see Copenhagen. Her breakfasts were legendary and one more than one occasion she intercepted me coming in at 6am, well before breakfast was served, yet she still made me something to eat. Sonia was an ANGEL!

Danes smile a lot in summer and they also like to eat ice-cream. I remember the ice-cream was delicious. It was a break from the sausages. But, back to the Danes…just don’t compare them to the Swedes, don´t insult their flag and don’t laugh at their language. Yes. Dansk. Hold on, while I pull a bag of potatos out of my mouuth. I’ve decided that the phenomenon of building walls to keep people out will never take on in Denmark. It may take millions of Lego bricks to do it… but their impenetrable language would be more of a deterrant that any wall.

One of my favourite memories was finding a restaurant called Vitas (I think that is what it was called). This was a culinary “road to Damascus moment”. It was a piano-restaurant. You go in and they give you song sheets and during the meal you can sing. At the next table to us, were the members of a Danish choir and they literally sang for their supper . The “show” ended with them singing the Danish winner of Eurovision 2001 (Fly on the wings of love) in Danish while we joined in in English. On a hot May evening, they entertained us with their song and we were won over by their scrumptious Danish Christmas dinner, the like of which I don’t think I’ll ever have again. The half pear with cranberry sauce was just a little piece of heaven.

They say that “Spain is Different” and really, it is! From the verdant north of Galicia and Asturias, so reminiscent of Ireland, to the picturesque mountain peaks of the the Pyrenees where you expect to see Heidi flying by on a sleigh at any moment. The lunar desert landscapes of Almeria are as crazy as the cherry blossom celebration that is the Valle de Jerte in Extremadura is exquisite. Spain boasts cities such as Sevilla, Salamanca, Santiago and Barcelona, each one with its own indomitable spirit and charm.

I love to walk the streets of Madrid and watch how the people interact with each other. Spanish people are essentially social animals and cannot thrive without some kind of social outlet – be that shopping in the fruit market or haggling over the price of some “chipirones” at the fresh fish stall. The ubiquitous “bares de barrio” (neighbourhood bars) are filled with the usual bar flies but also families on their way home from a shopping trip, groups of silver haired and perfectly coiffed Spanish housewives and if you happen to be there at 6.30am, people rolling home after a night out experiencing the world renowned “marcha” (night-life). From these people I have learned to be more direct, more honest and to delve straight into life. I have learned how to eat without haste and to savour each morsel. I have made great friends who are loyal and true. I couldn´t feel luckier.