"Sailing with Nigel"

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It's AFL Grand Final day back home, so I get up at 5am to watch the game on a streaming service on my iPad. I start to feel homesick and a bit emotional; if I was in Melbourne right now I'd be at the game. The sentimental favourite Richmond wins. I'm very happy for Issy's brother Tony who's waited patiently for 37 years to see his beloved Tigers win the premiership.

I had too much Port, Ginja, Sangria and beer last night, and not much sleep, so I'm now feeling a bit ordinary. But not to worry, Mark and Mandy have organised for the four of us to spend the morning sailing on the Tagus River, with a company called "Sailing with Nigel", so that should do wonders for the hangover. The dock's directly under the 25 de Abril Bridge. It's a long way above us but the noise from the cars and the trains is deafening, and sounds much like a massive swarm of bees. It's Saturday, so there's probably not as much traffic now as there would be on a weekday. I think you'd need to invest in a serious set of earplugs if you were planning to spend much time anywhere near here in daylight hours during the week.

We share our very serious yacht craft with three other couples. As we should probably have expected, Nigel isn't a traditional Portuguese name; he tells us that he's from London originally and that his wife's Portuguese, as is his offsider David. He tells us that he bought the boat in Turkey and then sailed it all the way back here to Lisbon. He says that they do three trips on the river each day for nine months of the year, and then have three months off. We head upstream as far as the Praca do Comercio, and then downstream to Torre de Belem. We need to dodge some nets which Nigel says fisherman have put in the river illegally. We also need to dodge a flotilla of yachts the size of kitchen sinks being sailed by small children.

Nigel tells us that the Torre de Belem used to be on an island in the middle of the river, but is now attached to the shore because all the land behind it's been reclaimed. He points out the Ajuda National Palace way back on the hill behind the Padrao dos Descobrimentos, and tells us that before the reclamation works there was only the Palace garden between the it and the riverbank. He tells us that the Ajuda was one of many royal palaces in Portugal at the time that King Carlos I and his son and heir were assassinated in 1908. This led to the formation of the republic in 1910, and the new King Manuel II was then forced to leave the country and live out his life in exile, which marked the end of the monarchy.

We have lunch at a cafe next to the dock. The menu tells us that most dishes come in two sizes - large and extra large. I'm hungry so I order an extra large. I know I like big servings, but this looks tiny to me. I'm not sure this is a great marketing strategy. Surely they'd sell a lot more of the "extra large" dishes if they called the "large" size "very small". I don't think it'd then matter too much what they called the "extra large" servings; most people would just want something bigger than "very small". Still, I'm sure they've thought about this a lot more than I have..... We noticed another interesting marketing ploy at the restaurant we went to last night. You could get a 30 cl beer for 2.50 Euro, but a 50 cl beer cost six euros. We wondered at the time whether the people who ran the place might have had a bit of trouble with maths, but maybe it was just a cunning ploy to make sure that their clients didn't drink too much and trash the joint.

We decide to experience a ride in a tuk tuk back into Lisbon. There's a massively long line of them here, but we're told that they're all booked. Huh?? There must be enough of them to accommodate just about every passenger on one of the large cruise ships docked here. I don't think any of us look particularly shifty, but it's hard to come up with other reasons for none of the drivers wanting to take us. We settle for a ride in a boring taxi.

We pass a couple of old ladies sitting on stools on the side of one of the alleyways near the apartment, selling small cups of home made Ginja stored in old jam jars. I wonder how strict the liquor licensing laws are here. I'm pretty sure I'd get arrested if I tried to set up shop selling home brew in dodgy looking bottles from a footpath back home.

We've booked another Fado restaurant for dinner. Everyone seems a lot friendlier and less serious here than our waiter at last night's establishment. This place is in a much bigger courtyard and it's packed. We're seated right up the front next to the musicians and the singers. One of the male vocalists looks like a slimmed down version of Russell Crowe, and he's got an excellent and very powerful voice. Fortunately he also seems to have a good sense of humour. A lady sitting at a table right in front of him stands up a bit too quickly while he's in the middle of a song, and sends cups and plates flying noisily in all directions. Cut down Russell Crowe just smiles and pretends to kick all the broken glassware out of the way. He might have carried it off too, but he then gets so distracted that he forgets the words, so he just sings la-la-la in tune with the music until it finishes. I thought after last night that Fado was supposed to be very serious, but it clearly depends a lot on where you go.

Next up is a very large sixty-something blonde lady. We thought Russell Crowe had a powerful voice, but hers makes the ground shake. I hope the neighbours aren't trying to get to sleep. She spends some of the time with her back to the audience facing the musicians with a serious look on her face. We're not quite sure whether this is part of the act or she's giving them a serious serve for some alleged misdeed. She looks very scary; I'm glad I'm not one of the ones in the firing line. She finishes a song and then disappears briefly before reappearing with a very large bunch of roses. She then launches into a very long and serious song that sounds like it's probably got something to do with roses. While she's doing this she walks around between the tables handing out the roses to all the female diners. It's all very entertaining. We buy one of her CDs. It's a bit windy and cold, and our waiter asks Issy if she'd like a blanket. I assume he's joking, but no, he returns with a large red blanket for my beloved to wrap herself in. Other customers see this, and half the restaurant's soon wrapped in bright red blankets.

We say our goodbyes to Mark and Mandy. We're flying out tomorrow and they're driving down to the Algarve. We've had a very entertaining time with them.

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