A Bad Day, But a Good Trip

How it began: Who doesn’t love a road trip?

Mike once said that these blog posts don’t write themselves.  Like so many other things he’s said with certainty, this turned out not to be true.  This post practically wrote itself.

Wednesday, November 23, was supposed to be an easy, fun day.  We were going to drive to Nazaré, about 90 minutes north of Parede, on the Atlantic coast.  Our friend and fellow blogger, Nancy Whiteman, had written about Nazaré, and we had always wanted to go there.

Once upon a time, Nazaré was just a little fishing village. Now it’s a global locus of surf culture – a place where, if you’re brave enough and skilled enough, you might catch a 100 foot wave.  

We had been invited to a big Thanksgiving dinner, hosted by Beverly and Daniel, another couple of American immigrants who had recently moved to Nazaré from Lisbon.  Even though Thanksgiving is not celebrated in Portugal, we were looking forward to a familiar holiday ritual in a new location.  In addition to the dinner, we wanted to explore the town, so we decided to drive up on Wednesday, do Thanksgiving on Thursday, and return on Friday.  

So there was going to be good food to eat and some interesting things to see.  Mike booked a rental car and Mary found an interesting bed and breakfast that was dog-friendly.  We were set for a great few days away.

That is, until we got up that morning. 

Off to a rough start

Mary got up first and found a large wet spot in the middle of our new living room rug.  As much as we love Sox, our 13 year old Boston Terrier, this is one of the downsides of having an aging dog.  

So Mary’s day began with cleaning supplies and grumbling.  Not a good way to start the day, especially since she had lots to do before we left town.  In hindsight, maybe we should have recognized that as an indication of how the day would test our patience.

Once the rug was cleaned, we muddled through the other morning activities.  We got our suitcases packed and then left for Lisbon to pick up the rental car.  

The Lucky Dip car

The bright spot of the morning was Diane, the young woman who checked us in.  She was cheerful, funny, and determined to make our experience “easy” – easy for us, easy for her. 

When Mike booked the rental car, he had selected an option called “Lucky Dip”, which meant that the rental company would select the car model and size at the time of pickup.  The price was slightly lower than their smallest compact – you get a discount for accepting some uncertainty.  We weren’t going to be driving very far, and would only have the car for 48 hours, so why not roll the dice and see what we get?  

The car we got was a Leon, made by the Spanish car maker Seat.  We had seen these cars around, but had never driven one.  It has features similar to the Volkswagen Golf and Audi A3.  (Seat is owned by Volkswagen.)

We got in, started it up, and Mary moved to plug in my phone so we could see our maps app on the console and have it tell us the directions.  But – Lucky Dip surprise! – the Leon has the newer, smaller USB ports, not the older, bigger ones that are on all our cords.  

OK.  Let’s try to connect using Bluetooth.  Oh, that doesn’t work, either?

It may be a sign of the coming apocalypse that we no longer evaluate cars on attributes like horsepower, torque, or the comfort of the seats.  Nope.  It all comes down to “can I plug in all my electrical gadgets?”   

But everything was fine, until it wasn’t

So Mary acted as navigator, holding my phone and repeating the instructions to get us out of downtown Lisbon and back to Parede.  We made it without incident.  Things were looking good.

Back at home, we were excited to get the car loaded and get on the road.  We made a couple trips down the elevator from the apartment with suitcases, Mike’s backpack, Sox’s bed, and the potato casserole Mary had made to take to Thanksgiving dinner.  All that was left was the bag of snacks, the dog food, and Sox.

Mike locked the car and we walked back into the building and called the elevator.  The door opened and as MIke stepped in he bumped into the door frame and dropped the fob that opened the car doors and operated the keyless ignition.  It scooted across the threshold of the elevator door and then, as we watched in open-mouthed disbelief, it disappeared down the crack between the elevator car and the shaft.  

Mike was never in the Navy, but at that moment he swore like a veteran sailor.

Now what?

For a moment or two, we just stood and looked at each other, both of us feeling a growing sense of panic.   But we have a rule in our marriage that has served us well for many years:  Only one of us can be insane at a time.  And playing the “blame game” never ends well. Somebody had to do something…fast!

Mike moved first.  There was a sticker on the wall of the elevator car with phone numbers for the company that serviced the elevator.  He started to call them, but then remembered a memo posted in the lobby.  It had phone numbers for the company that does maintenance on the building.  Mike figured they might be able to respond quicker – before he went into shock.

He dialed their number and a woman answered, greeting him in Portuguese.  

“Por favor, falla ingles?”, he asked.  Please, do you speak English?

“Just a little”, she replied.  This is an answer we’ve heard many times.  It means that the person has a grasp of English somewhere on the spectrum from absolute beginner to editor of the Oxford English dictionary.  Hoping she was being modest, Mike forged on.

“Obrigado. Chamo-me Mike Johnston.”  Thank you.  My name is Mike Johnston.  That’s about as far as his entry-level Portuguese would take him in this conversation.

“I live at <building address>.  I just dropped my car keys in the elevator and they fell through the gap into the elevator shaft.  Can you help me find someone to retrieve them?”

To her credit, the woman on the other end of the line did not snicker.  Or at least she had her microphone muted.

“I see”, she said.  “Do you have another set of keys?”

“No.  It’s a rental car.  And I have to leave here in the next hour.”  Mike could feel his blood pressure rising and had an increasing desire to collapse on the floor in a fetal position.

They talked for a few more minutes.  She had a reassuring manner, like we imagine the 911 (or 112 in Portugal) operators have when talking to someone on the ledge of a building or the railing of a bridge.   While they talked, one of her colleagues called the elevator company.  

Since it was 13:00 hours (1:00 pm – lunch time), she wasn’t certain if anyone would answer the phone.  But they did pick up and the owner of the company said he would call a technician to come to our building.  They would let us know when to expect help to arrive.  Then she hesitated for a moment before saying that there would be a charge for the service call, but she didn’t know how much it would be.  

Mike was ready to open his wallet or give them his ATM card pin code.  Just get us the keys!

Cooling our heels

After Mike hung up, we went back upstairs to the apartment to wait for a follow up message.  All we could think about was the worst case scenario where they couldn’t get to us until the next day or the day after.  

But within a few minutes Mike received a text message saying someone would be around in the next half hour and that the charge would be €50.

Luckily, that was exactly what he had in his wallet.  

While we waited, we tried to think clearly about what we needed to do next.  Mary thought about going to the ATM for more cash and then to the padaria for something for lunch.  Then realized that her wallet and phone were in her backpack…locked in the car.

So we sat.  And waited. Not calmly.

About twenty minutes later, our doorbell rang and Mike opened the door to find a young man holding the key fob.  ”I found your key.  Did they tell you there would be a charge?”

“Yes.  I have the money right here.”

“Ok.  Do you need a receipt?”

“No.”  Mike didn’t want a paper trail to remind him of this event.  

He handed over the money. The young man handed him the key fob.  They each said “Obrigado” and he left. 

We grabbed the remaining bags, hooked Sox up to her leash, and made a run for the door.  

The key fob was tucked safely in Mike’s pocket before he approached the elevator.

So how did it end?

The scenery between Lisbon and Nazaré was interesting – rolling hills with clusters of houses, lots of trees – and as we drove, we calmed down and began to look forward to the rest of the trip.  Our day was definitely getting better.

Quinta Amarela, the guest house where Mary had made a reservation, turned out to be a lovely, sprawling home on a big lot. 

It had four guest rooms and a shared kitchen and living room.  Fatíma, the owner, met us and showed us around.  Before she left, she said, “I’ll be back later to light a fire in the fireplace.”  

During our two night stay, we met other travelers from Germany, Belgium, Austria, and Cyprus.

This was what AirBnB’s used to be. 

Recommendation #1:  If you ever go to Nazaré, stay at Quinta Amarela.  

We got unpacked and drove into Nazaré to walk along the beach side promenade.  While we were there, we saw one of the prettiest sunsets we’d seen in a long time.

But…there was one last hiccup.  As we were getting cleaned up to go to dinner, Mike realized that in the rush to get out of the apartment, he had left his hanging clothes behind – two shirts and a better looking pair of pants to wear to Thanksgiving dinner.

Oh well…

A great ending

This restaurant had been recommended to us by a friend who insisted “You must go there. They have the freshest fish!”. He was right – it was a delightful experience.

It’s a tiny little place on a narrow street with no parking. It’s crowded inside – you might make new friends at the table right next to you. You can order off the menu, but their specialty is fresh fish for two, and you get to select your dinner from a platter they bring to your table.

Recommendation #2:  If you’re ever in Nazaré, make a reservation
and have dinner at Rosa dos Ventos. 

The next day

On Thursday morning, we got up early and drove to the top of a cliff to see the surf.  From the top there was a nice view of the town and the Praia da Nazaré to the south.

It was a windy morning, with intermittent rain, but despite the weather, there was a steady stream of people walking down the path to the Forte de São Miguel Arcanjo, a 16th century fort on a promontory that is the best place to see the Praia do Norte  – the north beach – and the waves.  

The waves that morning didn’t look like they were 11 meters high, but they were impressive.

A wonderful dinner

Later in the day, the Thanksgiving gathering was delightful.  We enjoyed meeting a new group of people, most of whom were from the US or Great Britain.  Our hosts, Daniel and Beverly, were originally from Louisiana.  They had planned a Southern-style dinner that included a delicious deep-fried turkey, macaroni and cheese, sweet potatoes, and what looked like a dozen pies!

As we gathered to start filling plates, Beverly welcomed the group to the table.

And no one noticed that Mike was wearing yesterday’s pants.

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We hope your holidays are filled with happy moments with your families and friends.  

Happy holidays / Boas festas!

Mary and Mike

The Cook and The Writer