Portugal Day 7
Jan found a laundromat where we could wash our first week’s worth of clothes.
We reached it up the steep hill on the opposite side of the Largo Intendente valley
which offered a view of Secret Garden tucked under the Miradouro Senhora do Monte.
After lunch I hiked beyond the laundromat to another hilltop area where elegant buildings like the Goethe Institute
were interspersed among shabby ones
In front of an imposing classical facade I saw a a strange looking monument.
An explanation was posted on Google Maps
Back at he hotel Jan and I prepared to attend a concert at Clube de Fado. Located in a cellar, supposedly one of the first early 1900’s Fado venues, the music was preceded by a fine fish dinner.
The place was packed and loud, but when the lights went down it got silent. The traditional trio of musicians—vocalist, Portuguese guitarist, Spanish guitarist — took places in a tiny performance space. The virtuousity, immediacy and power of the first set brought tears to my eyes. Alas the set was only fifteen minutes long.
The three of them departed, and the lights went up. Twenty minutes later the instrumentalists returned with a young male vocalist.
That set was followed by an instrumental set highlighting the Portuguese guitar.
Next was a female singer who expressed the traditional Fado blend of beauty and pain
Four more sets were scheduled for that night, but we didn’t have the stamina to wait out the intervals. We paid the reasonable bill—about 65 euros for dinner including a full bottle of wine. I expressed my gratitude to the musicians during the interval at the bar outside the dining room.
It turned out that the Portuguese guitarist had lived in San Jose California, where he worked at an IT company and played at the City’s Fado clubs.