Europe

At one of many viewpoints above one of many historic churches

We loved the little restaurants that you’d discover hidden away on the winding streets of the old town

The dramatic Baroque Torre dos Clérigos is the tallest building in Porto

Charming ancient streets

A tiled cloister in the Sé do Porto, the medieval cathedral

We have spent very little time in Portugal. I passed through for a few days with my Dad decades ago, in winter. Jim once attended a work conference outside Lisbon. We have not done the place justice, and now we’re going to correct that.

This correction was conceived when our friends Hajir and Margaret announced last year that their wedding would take place in Portuguese wine country this April. Their wedding will no doubt be a memorable affair — and the perfect opportunity to plan a trip around the country in glorious spring weather. And glorious it has been. So far it’s sunny every day with temperatures in the 60s. And that is what is forecast for the foreseeable future.

So we planned a 17-day trip, which began with a direct flight from Newark to Porto. We only even had to endure a four-hour time difference, since Europe had not yet entered daylight savings time. (That was corrected a few days after our arrival, so now we’re five hours ahead of Eastern Time.)

Portugal’s second city anchors the north of the country, and it is truly loaded with personality. It sits at the mouth of the Douro river, where a city grew around the trade in port wine. The wines are produced in the Douro valley east of here, and then shipped down river to Porto, where a huge industry blossomed to market and export port to the rest of the world.

The medieval city sits on the hills north of the Douro, spilling down toward a promenade along the river packed with lively (but touristy) bars and restaurants. From there the dramatic steel Dom Luís I Bridge spans the river to the south bank and the separate city of Vila Nova de Gaia, where we actually stayed. This side of the river is lined with the export houses/tasting rooms/marketing centers for dozens of port makers. Both sides of the river, up and down the hills, are bustling, colorful, and beautiful. This is a stunning place, not to be missed.

Now I must say a word about Portuguese cuisine. It has not previously been one of my favorites. I think of it as very heavy. And totally dominated by cod. Whenever I’ve experienced Portuguese food, it seems I can’t escape from a big slab of cod topped with a gloppy sauce.

After checking into our hotel on arrival here, we inquired about where to get lunch. The guy at the hotel directed us to a row of restaurants along the river a few minutes away, and he wrote down which two he thought were best. So we picked one of those, where I ended up with a big slab of cod in a gloppy sauce. Whatever Jim had was also kind of heavy and unmemorable.

But once we invested a bit of time into restaurant research things ticked up wonderfully. We sniffed out places with amazing creative food and wonderful wines at very reasonable costs. So the culinary offerings have ended up rivaling the visual splendor of this captivating city.

Walking along the bank of Vila Nova de Gaia, across from the center of Porto

Our first lunch at a mediocre place. The food offerings improved dramatically after that.

Dinner at The Door. The flimsy table was very precariously tilted towards me on the sloped cobblestones. It was worth enduring the fear for the incredible food, service, and atmosphere.

The train station boasts 20,000 painted tiles

Close up of the train station tiles

Our hotel roof offered amazing views of Porto to the left and Gaia to the right

Relaxing on the hotel roof

Crossing the bridge toward the old city

A glorious lunch spot

One night we climbed the hill behind our hotel for an elegant dinner at Graham’s, one of the many port houses of Vila Nova de Gaia

Arriving at Graham’s

Naturally that dinner involved a sampling of the good stuff from a huge bottle

Even the abandoned buildings of Vila Nova de Gaia are elegant

I made a friend!

Jim did, too

Morning fog on the Douro. There were even chunks of ice in the water.

Night view across to Gaia

Evening stroll

Couldn’t stay away from that roof deck

Celebrating the incredible restoration of Notre Dame

As we were planning our trip to London, Jim suggested we should also go to Paris. We have been there many times, but never in winter. Plus we could take the train through the Chunnel, another first. So we added five nights in Paris onto our London itinerary. How bad could that be?

It sure helps if the February temperatures are in the 40s and 50s most of the time. And the crowds are a bit thinner than usual. And unlike our stay in London, we had virtually no people to see or engagements planned. I did, however, do a fair amount of restaurant research in advance, cuz, you know, you never want even a mediocre dining experience in this incredible food city.

We also enjoyed a splurgy stay at the great classic hotel Ritz on the Place Vendôme. Cesar Ritz opened this palatial hotel in 1898 to provide lodging suitable for royalty. It was the first hotel ever to include such luxuries as bathrooms, electricity, and telephones in every room. An extensive renovation from 2012 to 2016 restored it to its original glory.

Of course the highlight of this visit was a chance to once again tour Notre Dame, which was miraculously reopened less than six years after the devastating fire. I was astounded by the breadth of the restoration. It seemed like every tiny corner of this vast cathedral glittered like new, thanks to the armies of craftsmen in every field.

The interior of Notre Dame seemed almost shockingly “white” and bright. You are just not used to seeing medieval cathedrals without a layer of smoky grime on the walls.

Miraculously, the stained glass sustained minimal damage, so they sparkle as much as ever

Every side chapel seemed restored to perfection

A view through some grillwork across the altar

Cocktails at Bar Vendome at the hotel Ritz

The Place Vendôme

Paris is beautiful even in winter

More winter beauty

Weather was pleasant enough for an outdoor cafe stop on th Place des Vosges

I spend a lot of time researching on line to find restaurants that we might love. When we arrived at Parcelles, I immediately recognized it as a place my research led us to three years earlier!

Crocuses in the Tuileries! Spring is coming!

And yet these people haven’t taken down their Christmas decorations yet

The Luxembourg Garden is not as glorious in the winter, but still pretty amazing

A gorgeous sunrise on the Seine

Heading to dinner in the wonderful 7th arrondissement you get lots of great Eiffel Tower views

We went to hear Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony at the church of Saint-Philippe-du-Roule. The setting was beautiful, and the music was impressive, despite some pretty terrible acoustics.

Fancy dead people at the Père Lachaise cemetery

A fun lunch at Tour d’Argent, a restaurant that claims to have opened in 1582

Irresistible temptations at breakfast at the Ritz

What a view from our room!

Thea Musgrave and her husband Peter Mark at the House of Lords

Doesn’t everyone dash off to London for a long weekend when a friend’s opera is being performed there? Well, that’s who we’ve become. Our friend Thea Musgrave is a Scottish national who has lived in the U.S. for decades. To say she’s an important composer is something of an understatement: in 2002 Queen Elizabeth II named her a Commander of the British Empire (CBE) and in 2017 she was awarded the Queen’s Medal for Music, all in recognition of her contributions to British arts. So when the English National Opera announced they were producing her “Mary, Queen of Scots” several of her friends announced that if she was going we would too.

It’s worth noting that the question of whether Thea and her husband Peter would go was of no small curiosity. Thea, you see, is 96 years old and at this point traveling across the ocean is no small issue. But this was worth it so off we all went. It was great fun traveling with a bunch of friends, though sadly it meant that we were pretty booked up the whole time and didn’t even get to see old friends who live in London.

Here we are all dressed up for the English National Opera’s production of “Mary, Queen of Scots”

The opera, I should add, was really great. Modern and somewhat atonal but still approachable. The staging was distinctly minimalistic in light of the English National Opera’s financial struggle but the singing was without question world class. And importantly – for me this is a big distinction between contemporary opera and the 19th century classics – the story was tight and compelling. Mary became the Scottish Queen at the ripe age of six days (that’s right, six days old) when her father James V died. She was shipped off to France at age six, betrothed to the guy who would become Francis II. He reigned for less than two years though before dying so she returned to Scotland at age 19 to rule as was her right by birth.

Here I am with the poster advertising Thea’s opera

The opera covers the next six years as she tries – unsuccessfully – to fend off the powerful men who would usurp her power and authority. That tension and power dynamic make for an intense and thoroughly modern drama absent from older operas. It’s worth noting that while ultimately Mary failed to protect her crown – she fled to England where ultimately Elizabeth I had her beheaded (kind of the definition of a failed strategy) – she did succeed in one important way. Her son ultimately ruled as James VI of Scotland and, with the death of Elizabeth, James I of England. During his reign he supervised what became known as the King James Version of the Bible and lived as a raging homosexual, but that’s a story for another time.

OK, back now to our London trip. The opera was really good, the audience loved it, and it got really positive reviews. The crowning glory though was after the cast had taken their bows. While they were still on stage the artistic director came out and announced that they were honored to have the composer there in person. And then the spotlight hit Thea’s bright white hair as she stood and waved while the audience went wild. On and on the applause rolled, a five-minute standing ovation for our friend. I have to admit I had tears just running down my face, so proud of Thea and imagining what it must be like at age 96 to have that experience. A moment I will never forget – and will probably tear up at whenever I think about it.

The audience goes wild as the spotlight hits Thea

But of course there’s more to do in London than just go to one opera. The day we arrived Thea was being honored at the House of Lords and the eight or 10 of us from New York were invited along for the event. Sadly, I’d been diagnosed with bronchitis the day before we left New York so I really didn’t feel as though I could go – I didn’t want to tire myself out and I really didn’t want to expose our elderly friends to my germs. Mark made it, though, and said it was a pretty cool event. I mean, it was the House of Lords!

Mark, Sven, and Mary Beth all very dapper at the House of Lords

Oddly, we saw another little opera while we were in London. Entirely coincidentally an old friend of mine from Minneapolis was involved in the production of an obscure little opera literally the night before Thea’s debut so off we went to see Samuel Coleridge-Taylor’s “Dream Lovers.” It was a fun little escapade, reviving a lost 19th century piece, but not exactly the opera one would fly across the Atlantic for. But watching the production and then having dinner with Laura and her wife Mary was a great evening.

And still there was more music. Our NY friends Mary Beth and Sven came along as well, in part of course to see Thea’s opera, but also because their son Luca is in his third year as a pianist at the Royal Academy of Music. So one afternoon Luca performed a 45-minute piano recital for maybe a dozen of us. Now obviously I have an amateur’s ear but even for me it was obvious what a changed musician he is since he left high school less than three years ago.

Luca & his classmate Hayden play a four-hand Mozart piece at Luca’s private recital for friends. If you look closely you’ll note that there is a reflection of Hayden in Luca’s piano where Luca’s face should be. Wait, that guy is like six feet away. How did that happen? Ghosts and spirits I can only assume.

Oh, and one more musical interlude. Since we were in London for five nights and only had two of them taken up by operas we bought tickets for “Les Misérables” which has been playing in the West End (London’s equivalent of Broadway) for nearly 40 years. We saw it on Broadway probably 20 years ago or more and loved it then … and loved it again this time. Just an epic story with grand music and staging.

And then there were the group outings. A group dinner at an Ottolenghi restaurant that Mary Beth & Sven love (and that I missed while nursing my illness). A group lunch at an Indian restaurant in the very cool Brick Lane neighborhood. An art exhibit centered in 1504 Florence where Michelangelo, Leonardo Da Vinci, and Raphael all crossed paths. The British Museum. The Tate gallery to see dozens of Turner paintings.

All in all it was a pretty hectic few days. For the first time ever though, I feel as though I started to get to know London. And definitely enjoyed it. From here we’re taking the train to Paris for five days and I find myself thinking “Why don’t we do this London/Paris trip more often?” Why not indeed.

Curtain call for Les Mis

Sarah, Gena, Mary Beth, Carla, Luca, Sven, and Mark at the Ottolenghi restaurant. Note the empty chair where I should have been but for that damned bronchitis thing.

Luca & Sven

We were sitting at the bar at the Corinthia hotel where we were staying after the Dream Lovers opera and who should walk in but Broadway star and Tony winner Billy Porter. Turns out he is performing as the emcee in Cabaret just across the street from the hotel and came in after the production with his entourage. It seemed as though he really didn’t mind our fawning over him.

That was the night we had drinks and a light dinner with Mary and Laura who were pretty star struck by Billy

Mark with the Cabaret poster

And finally, one of those “This exists in the world?” photos. We’re walking to our group Indian lunch and what do we come across but a micro-laundrymat … in the parking lot of a gas station. I suppose it’s convenient in certain situations…