For you travelers, you know what these days are like. You're up, early in the morning, remembering to pack everything, going thru your mental checklist. You're sad to be leaving the town to which you have grown accustomed, but anticipating a new adventure. So, here I sit, with 20 minutes to kill, scanning the room to see if I am missing anything.
Last night the group went to a dinner with fado singers. Think Portuguese blues... usually sung by women, accompanied by a Spanish guitar and a Portuguese 12 string guitar. The wine was good, the food ok, but the fado singing was surprisingly good. Especially the second singer, a man in his 60's. His hair was combed straight back, and he reminded me of Joel Grey in Caberet. So, I just transported myself back into time... back to the late 30's, when Lisbon was a city of international intrigue. (Portugal never entered WW2). As one of my mates said... "all we are missing is the cigarette smoke". The man sang some soulful, mournful songs... the lights were low... candles on every table, and the crowd was respectfully quiet. It was an experience...
Ok... one last pit stop and then the bus to Evora.
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