28.08.18 - Isso não é a casa da Joana

Hallloooo,

We're back in SP post-European tour '18, it's cold and wet but the ups, downs, tans and tapas will last long in the memory.

Lisbon was great fun, and a step up from last year in that no one got robbed or hospitalised.  Instead we went to the Time Out Market for a prego (a "spike", or steak sarnie) and over the river to Cacilhas, which had a nice view of the city and some Roman ruins but not much else, then got the old-timey streetcar up to the Bairro Alto and across to the Sé cathedral for copious tapas and sangria before heading back to our Airbnb on the main drag for snifters of port and background accordion music.

On Wednesday we packed up and picked up our latest hire car for an excursion to the Torre de Belem, where Gaby hung out with some rabbits who are apparently huge Instagram stars, then down to a tiny village in the Algarve where we were met by our lovely host and wrote off our first night entirely by filling up with the wrong kind of petrol and totalling the car - we had to be rescued by a tow-truck and then taken to Faro airport by a manic taxi driver to get a new one, and went back to bed in disgrace.

The next day was much more successful - we went to the Praia de Camilo which was absolutely crawling with sunbathers but was otherwise lovely, had another prego on the Praia da Rocha, and had a last dinner of monkfish skewers on a rooftop bar in Albufeira before heading into the frankly mental town centre, whose nightlife can only be described as the Portuguese Las Vegas.

On Friday we took in a few more beaches, seafront bars and ossuaries (pictured), hit the road back to Lisbon, across a massive bridge over the Tagus and on to the airport, where after a customs-enforced delay we headed back across the Atlantic.  We went straight to Aldeia da Serra for one of Bruna's family's now-legendary BBQs on very little sleep, stopped off at Gaby's grandma's to wish her happy birthday, and slept all night and most of Sunday before resuming business as usual at 4am yesterday.

I have a new compilation for your ears only, and my phrase of the week ("this isn't Joana's house") was painted right on our Lisbon Airbnb's corridor walls, explanation and all: "the expression is used when a place is untidy or disorderly or when people act with decency or decorum". 'Tis good to be back...

Speak soon,

Fred & Circuses

PS: Ridaut on the top Brazilian talk show last Friday - pretty cool! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwq35NUFVTc

21.08.18 - Quebrou minhas pernas

'Alloooo,

Lovely to see you the other day - you can read all about it on my blog to no one, if you've got the time and you're not too busy.  Since then we've been through Edinburgh, Inverness, Isleham and London, and are entering the home stretch of our trip in sunny Portugal.

Edinburgh was excellent value as always - the day after we arrived the sun came out so we headed to the Royal Mile to take in the madness, watch the sword-swallowers, unicyclists, sea-shanty singers etc. until we were whisked underground to the cramped quarters of Mary King Close, for a tour full of tales of plagues, pestilence and chamber pots given by a flamboyant Dutch man in a cape.  After a quick pasty in Waverley station we headed up to the castle and on to Princes Street Gardens, moving on to the New York Steam Packet for STEAK and the Guilded Balloon for "Spontaneous Potter", an amusing improvised take on the Expanded Potterverse.

The next day we packed up and shipped out to a parking lot on the outskirts of Edinburgh Airport, where after a tortuous exchange with the Ryanair of car rental companies (they tried to rent us a white van, and we almost wrecked the car they eventually let us have before we got the hang of the handbrake and gearstick) we hit the road to Inverness, up through the Highlands via Midhope Castle and Culross (both locations in the popular TV series Outlander, for any Outlander fans out there). 

Once in town we got some dinner, checked out the local tartan shop and adjourned to our cosy Airbnb, then the next day we went to Culloden for a wander round the battlefield and to Loch Ness and the ruins of Urquhart Castle - both cut short by sudden showers for which we were laughably unprepared, but awesome in their own way (we even got a rainbow over Loch Ness! No monster though). Having purchased a tartan shawl to wrap Gaby up in, we went to a tiny seaside village for a slap-up dinner and headed back to bed. The entire next day was spent trying to get back to Isleham as Ryanair did their best to antagonise us - suffice to say next year we'll be doing our trip entirely by train, and hopefully they'll be bankrupt.

On Saturday we headed into London and our Airbnb, coincidentally on Inverness Terrace near Hyde Park. I left Gaby to her shopping spree and went to see Ben and Tom of Archway Castle fame at the former's Islington abode, for televised football and darts, before getting some Thai food and heading back to bed.  Sunday was an extremely intense blur of reviews, walking, the South Bank, more walking and Fortnum & Mason, culminating in a quick trip to the Royal Albert Hall for the Proms, and a kebab nightcap.  And on Monday we made a dash for Borough Market to eat lots of nice things, before another nightmarish Ryanair experience en route to Lisbon.

My phrase of the week translates as "you broke my legs" and means "you've left me in a pickle!" (i.e. "you said you'd bring the beers for our BBQ and didn't - you really broke my legs, man!") - it came to mind a few times during the more arduous of our recent trips around town.  I have also made two new compilations and folks, it's an Aretha Franklin special.  Driving through the Highlands to non-stop Aretha on the day she died was pretty special, if a little sad...

Enjoy, and speak soon,

Deep Fred Haggis

14.08.18 - Gato escaldado tem medo de água fria

Halloooo once again from the frontlines of our Eurotour, this time in Edinburgh.

We spent the past week in Antibes, in the splendid company of mum, dad, Juliet, Mel and Matisse, the newest addition to the Powys/Du Pontet clan.  Having settled in on Rue Fourmillière we sought out beaches ever further afield, starting at La Gravette and La Salis, venturing around the Cap and eventually heading to Theoule in a rental car and the Ile Ste. Marguerite via catamaran for a bob in the astonishingly blue waters. 

Elsewhere we checked in with Matisse and co. in Vallauris, staged an impromptu tour around the (mostly boarded-up) CIV and Valbonne, went to Noah's for a box of wine or three, and wrapped things up with a wine tasting in the vieille ville.  Then on Saturday we packed everything up and hit the road, eventually arriving in Cambridge at 2:30am after an arduous trial by Ryanair. 

On Sunday we went to Isleham to see the grandparents, strategically re-pack and collapse for most of the afternoon, then on Monday we got on another delayed flight to Edinburgh, for a quick dash around the centre in the dark and rain, and an excellent one-man show by a Brighton acquaintance laying bare a shady conspiracy theory around Santa Claus. Who knows what today will bring?

My phrase of the week means "a scalded cat is afraid of cold water", a sort of "fool me once..." maxim which is relevant both because we've seen a lot of cats lately, and because of how paranoid we are of getting our bags stolen on public transport again as we make our way around. 

Speak soon,

Fredinburgh

07.08.18 - Le cose piú bella della vita o sono immorali, o sono illegali o fanno ingrassare

Hallooo,

It’s been a wild week of attempted Italian, fine dining and country-hopping, topped off with a new addition to the Powys family.  We touched down in Italy on Tuesday morning, piled into a rented Cinquecento and drove, on very little sleep, to Siena, stopping outside Rome to get a new phone for Gabi and in Assisi to gorge on ice cream and take lots of photos. There we had a pizza at Il Pomodorino, one year on from the last one overlooking the old town, and swanned about until bedtime, then set off the next day via a local vineyard to stock up on the finest wines.

We went to Venice for a quick float around, via water taxi and a system of ever-shrinking bridges, which was pretty great, then on to Verona where we found, to our horror, that the Airbnb we’d booked didn’t have AC and was basically an oven, so had to scramble for a cheap (and, it turns out, quite nice and central) hotel instead, and scour the streets until we found somewhere selling food so late, namely a kebab shop by the arena. 

The next morning we set off to explore the town, ending up having lunch by the river, staring up at Juliet’s balcony and trying unsuccessfully to rent bikes, before dolling ourselves up and going to see “Aida” in the arena, which was fairly spectacular – hundreds of cast members gallivanting round a giant revolving pyramid in an ancient Roman coliseum while robed Egyptians sung about their fate – with subtitles!  A smattering of rain stopped play a few times but the orchestra powered through and before long the main characters were being buried alive, and there was much rejoicing.

On Friday we mixed things up a bit by heading to Lake Como, for a wander round a castle on a hill and a mean truffle risotto, before getting the ferry to the western shore and checking in to the Hotel Britannia, a faded remnant of the Belle Epoque now full of surly-looking families, where we got upgraded to an amazing top-floor room overlooking the lake.  Having hit the pool we explored the nearby town of Griante – all two of its restaurants – and turned in for the night.

The next day, after a full English breakfast in a vast, Shining-esque ballroom, it was over the Swiss border and off to Lake Lugano, where we went up Mount Brè for some sightseeing and brief trekking, then down to the waterfront for ice cream and barefoot paddling.  Having checked into our Airbnb in an Italian enclave across the lake we went to the lido and jumped off things for a few hours, before heading back into Switzerland for fondue on a mountainside, 30 degree heat be damned.  In the evening we followed the birth of Matisse, the newest Powys/du Pontet clan member, live via Whatsapp, and toasted his arrival over fine wines and artisanal chocolate.

On Sunday we made a cross-country dash, stopping in a tiny Genovese village for pesto fettuccine, some sort of sliced Italian haggis and homemade ice cream, before ditching the car and bundling on to two trains to Ventimiglia and Antibes respectively. And on Monday we went to the hospital in Cannes to meet Matisse and try and stage an elaborate photoshoot without waking him up to much. Exciting times, and I've already got a long list of "piadas de tiozão" (dad jokes, known in Brazil as "uncle jokes") ready.

My phrase of the week is another one from the Pomodorino menu and nods to the Roberto Carlos song, "Ilegal, Imoral ou Engorda" - "the best things in life are either illegal, immoral or fattening". Seems about right.

Ciao bella,

Piatti Freddy