Olá readers,
I have a couple of rather lengthy posts in the works, the first of which I will send out later this week, but I thought I’d quickly share a funny and insightful mid-week observation. I just experienced another surprising little quirk about Portugal today that reminded me why I love this country so much. Speaking of which, be sure to read the footnote at the end. I know people tend to ignore these, but this one adds an extra element of delight to this story.
My fiancée, Eryn, had just come back from the little restaurant across the street from our apartment in Vila Nova de Gaia, one we frequent regularly because of its convenience and delicious food, and especially because of the delightful staff that treat us so warmly in spite of the language barrier.1 She brought me takeout because I was busy writing and wasn't going to be ready to go out for food before most restaurants closed down at 3, not to reopen until dinner time, which tends to be around 7 or 8 pm here. (It’s hard to tear me away from writing when I’m in the zone.)
The takeout was a half-size order of Francesinha com ovo e batatas frites, a national dish consisting of layers of meats, cheese, and bread with an egg on top, smothered in a tangy tomato-based sauce and served with a side of French fries for dipping. Be sure to try it if you come here, especially if it's a rainy or chilly day. It's a warming, hearty comfort food that practically every place to eat around here has their own variation of.
Eryn had placed the takeout container on the table for me, alongside a bottle of juice. Entering the dining area, I raised my eyebrow when I spotted the bottle since I don't drink juice. She shrugged and said, “I dunno. But it's warm.” Now by warm, I assumed she just meant room temperature, which was odd, but too famished to put much thought into it, I sat down to tuck into my meal, ignoring the bottle next to me.
When I was done and pleasantly full, I set to cleaning up after myself, with the final task being to stick the unordered bottle of juice in the fridge. I slipped my fingers around it and recoiled in horror. It wasn't just warm. It was HOT. The reaction wasn't because I'd scalded myself or anything. It was the split-second of unexpected confusion and disgust about a hot bottle of juice. And then the realization of what it was broke over me in a fit of laughter.
Down the hall, Eryn first heard my gasp, followed by giggles, so she came out to see what was going on. “It wasn't juice!” I explained. It was a bottle that previously held juice that they used to contain extra sauce. But unlike what I'm used to with takeaway in the United States, it wasn't in a disposable Styrofoam or plastic container that will stick around for a few thousand years and pollute our planet.
It was brilliant! Such a simple way to reduce, reuse, recycle that seems unimaginable in the U.S. If restaurants tried this there, what do you want to bet the restaurant packaging industry lobbyists would be howling at elected officials (while slipping them a few million dollars for their campaigns) about it being unsanitary or something ridiculous?
But not here. Because not only do the Portuguese people consistently demonstrate common sense practicality in myriad ways, they show a concern for conservation most of us couldn’t even begin to imagine in the U.S. From the rolling shutters on window exteriors used strategically to trap cool air in and hot air out in the summer, to making every part of a home easy to section off by closing a door and only heating the room you are in with portable space heaters, to interior lights in buildings that only come on when they detect motion, they seem to make minimizing their carbon footprint a part of everything they do here.
Anyhow, I’m just glad to be here, enjoying the convenience of a walkable city with excellent public transportation and fresh, healthy food, clean air and water, and affordable healthcare in the 4th safest country in the world with some of the strongest protections for LGBTQ+ people. This could be America, but corporations are people.
I have to tell you another thing about this restaurant because it’s just so wholesome. One day, we were waiting for our food to arrive and I thought I kept hearing a cricket chirp. The waitress saw me looking around to locate the source of the sound and she scurried over to a shelf on the wall and came back holding a tiny little cage in her hand… with a cricket inside. She didn’t speak English, but it was clear she was excited to show us their little pet and we’re pretty sure she said, “Música ao vivo!” (live music). I mean, c’mon, how adorable is that?!
We experienced much of what you described while living in France.
I loved this! So funny and so good! I would love it if we could get something even approaching daily conservation here. Thanks for writing about it.