Walkabout: Cascais: Cheeseburger in Paradise

Sometimes you just need a cheeseburger, man.

But, let's back up a step. The evening before we came to the picturesque village of Cascais, we had a final dinner in Lisbon. We went to a seafood place on the water and placed our orders: "Seabass, Seabass, Grouper, Octopus."

I'm sorry, what was that last one and who said it?

As the waiter's eyebrows rose a bit, we all looked at my 13-year-old son as he confirmed what he wanted to order, the roasted octopus. After all, if the locals eat it, how bad could it be?

What arrived looked like it had been scraped off the hull of the Nautilus and served by Captain Nemo himself. It was three large "legs" joined at the "hip" served on a platter. My son dove in and initially liked   the flavor. What he didn't like was the sensation that the tentacles were trying to bond to his tongue. Now, my general rule is that, real or perceived, if you can't figure out whether you are eating your food or your food is trying to eat you, then it may be time to move on to something else. 

The next day, we arrived in Cascais, a fishing village turned yacht harbor turned tourist destination on the west coast of Portugal, and decided to walk around. While taking in the sights, my son started to look increasingly "hung over" from the previous night's experience. I realized that we had a case of Post Octopus Traumatic Syndrome (POTS) on our hands. The cure was obvious: Cheeseburger.

We rushed him STAT to the nearest English pub and ordered a cheeseburger and he was soon among the living again. Now you might be saying, "But you are in Portugal." My experience is that any European destination that attracts tourists has an English pub and usually an Irish pub. This is so English, Irish and Australian tourists can travel great distances to drink beer and watch rugby and soccer, things they would never do at home. 

We are enjoying Cascais so far. The beach is quite popular. Every morning around 8:00 a.m. there is a steady stream of people marching along carrying towels and wearing swimsuits to sleepily find their 3X6 foot spot on the beach. It sort of looks like refugees from Malibu marching to Manhattan Beach. They don't look chipper, but they are determined to claim their spot.

We've found the food here to be better than Lisbon. It's the same fresh ingredients, but combined with some more interesting flavors and preparations. For instance, sea bass, which is grilled and served with boiled potatoes and carrots in Lisbon, is instead prepared here on top of Sicilian-flavored couscous with some nice peppers sautéed in garlic and olive oil on top. Whether it's the street performers, the English screaming at the rugby game on the pubs' big screens or the food itself, there's just a little more flavor to be found in this charming village. 

  

Walkabout: Lisbon

Lisbon is a city of mixed messages about pride. It's a city that spruces up its amazing landmarks: churches, a monastery and of course a castle. But, it's also a city that refuses to pick up its dog pooh if you happen to wander a block off the beaten tourist track.

It's a city in which you can find eight restaurants lined up facing a red suspension bridge with two towers, each restaurant offering the same menu. Now, this would never happen on our home turf in San Francisco, where restaurants facing a completely different looking bridge offer chowder both in a bowl or a bread bowl. Now, that's variety!

The food in Lisbon is simple in a good way. It's a variety of grilled fish, so fresh that restaurants proudly display their fish in stacks as you walk in, usually on ice, but sometimes not so much. I tried the local favorite, grilled sardines, and found them to be salty and good. But, if you try them, be prepared to tasted sardine for a long long time.

While I appreciate the food here, I have to confess that if we stayed in Lisbon any longer that I would be that American creeping down the dark alley at nighttime. When approached by someone offering Portuguese whacky weed for sale, I would whip out my money roll and say, "No thanks, but I'll give you 20 Euro for a bottle of Siracha or Chulula." Clean, fresh and simple is great, but I also like to find a little complicated food from time to time.

My nearly sixteen year-old-daughter was lucky enough to find six members of the Portuguese Navy on the street for an impromptu photo session and they all looked pretty pleased to be part of it. I could tell when we walked by a construction site earlier in the day to hear enthusiastic whistles directed at my daughter that being a father of a teenager is going to be different in Europe than it is in the U.S. God help me when we get to Spain and Italy.

It's funny comparing the tourist trade in Lisbon to San Francisco and seeing the similarities. One of the things to do in Lisbon is to take a Funicular up a "winding steep grade." In the travel shows, it looks like quite the wild ride. Well, we took it and it was sort of a ready, set...wait, we're done. That was it? It reminds me of all those tourists lined up to go down Lombard Street.

French Tourist #1 (Renee Dupont Castile LeVrai): "Zthat was it? It's one block long?"

French Tourist #2 (Pierre Bastille LeChien): "Merde!"

Well, our experience wasn't a "merde," be it wasn't exactly the Indiana Jones Ride at Disneyland either. Still, it did end us up at a park where we found a nice pitcher of sangria and a great view of the sites we had seen that day. We also saw a monastery with 25 confessionals lined up to handle the sailers of sailing galleons as they came and went. It was sort of like mass spiritual redemption, kind of like of The Pope and Henry Ford and gotten together to decide how to speed up the process a bit.  

Today we our celebrating a big arrival. It came at 2 a.m. and, after five days on the road, we are the proud parents of our luggage, which finally caught up to us. I want to be discreet and not mention the name of the airlines that lost our luggage. Let's just call them "United Kingdom Airways" so no one is the wiser. Still, it is humbling as a traveler to come back after a night on the town and wash your underwear in the sink to get ready for the next day. Yes, "Glamour" is my middle name.

What's a walkabout?

Well, as you probably already know, it's an Australian thing where a young man goes on a walkabout to find himself. As a family of four with two teenagers, we are attempting to do that as a family, before high school sports and, all too quickly, college sends everyone on their separate ways. We are taking a month to meet ourselves...and make some new friends in the process. We can already tell this is a good thing. Not that we didn't talk before, but when you are exploring new places as a family, you tend to do a lot of "Hey, look at this!" to each other and then chat about what you've found. 

No Crankiness Allowed

So far, we've found the people of Portugal to be warm and friendly and going way out of their way to try and understand our mispronounced attempts at "Thank you." ("Albondigas!!!") and my way too Mexican pronunciation of "por favor." I can see them mentally picturing me with a sombrero on my head at a Chevy's and they think to themselves, "Dude, this is not Cabo. We don't even speak Spanish here!" 

We're on to our next stop, a village on the coast of Portugal. I now have my full wardrobe of "American Middle-Aged Dad Wear," so I can truly impress the locals. 

    

I'm Ready for My Close Up, Mr. DeMille

Are we as interesting as we think we are?

This is a question I've been asking myself of late as I roam around the social media world posting quips, comments, snarkis and photos. It's made me aware of how others chronicle their lives, especially on Facebook.

In the old time days before phones had cameras that posted immediately to Facebook, we would take pictures of our vacations by shooting photos of things we were seeing. Then, we would subject friends, relatives, neighbors, anyone willing to sit for an hour, to slide "shows" or albums of the pictures from the vacation. "Hey look, there's a drive-thru tree! There's Mickey! There's a giant ball of string! There are two zebras at the zoo. It must be spring!" It was all about capturing things we were seeing. Things other than ourselves, for the most part.

Now that we've advanced to the digital age of sharing way too much way too soon, it's more about "Hey, there's me! Look, there I am again. Here's a picture of me standing in front of something. Here's a picture of me eating something. Here's picture of me running from the zebras who clearly didn't want to be disturbed."

Have we become the "Me Generation" where we think the most interesting thing we can share is ourselves? Sometimes, I wonder. There's a poster among my Facebook friends that we'll call Mr. X. Mr. X went to visit San Francisco and then posted an album from his trip. What did he post? Coit Tower? The Golden Gate Bridge? The Transamerica Pyramid? Well, actually not. He posted pictures of himself in his hotel room. "Look, it's me!" Why would anyone want to see any of the other sights?

Perhaps it's the infusion of Reality TV into our lives. Anyone can be on television and be elevated from a face in the crowd to a real star. Stars don't have to be a Harrison Ford-type from a big movie. They can be the video store clerk that finds herself just trying to survive for one more episode on a reality show and cling to stardom just five minutes longer. They can also be someone who is famous for being famous. A Hilton, a Kardashian or someone else who is famous for being on camera, but has not actually done anything to actually be famous for. It's a little mind bending when you think about it. Why are they famous? Because, they are. If that's the case, then, guess what, you too can be famous for being famous if you can get yourself out there enough. Maybe that's what some folks are shooting for on Facebook and other sites. "Look, it's me again and guess what I'm doing in this picture..." It's not YouTube. It's MeTube.

Are we arrogant, conceited, delusional...or, is this just the new normal? Everyone in effect has their own broadcast channel and instead of getting together for a glass of wine to share our adventures in person, we just tune into each others' channels to see what we are all up to. And, does that make our worlds larger or smaller? Which captures the greater adventure, the picture your parents took of the Grand Canyon when they visited in 1972 or the image you just posted to show how unbelievably long the line is at Starbucks right now? Perhaps because it is now so easy to chronicle mediocre activities, we are not pushing ourselves to have real adventures to share.

I'd ponder this more, but I need to go Instagram an image of myself typing this blog. Exciting stuff!

Preparing for the End of the World

There was another reminder on the radio today that Friday is the end of the planet according to the Mayan Calendar. I think, in a way, it takes some of the pressure off of things, especially during the holidays. It's sort of de-stressing more than it is distressing.

If you think about it, there really are a lot of benefits to the end of the world coming this week. You just have to look at the bright side of extinction. Here are a few points to consider:

1. Christmas Shopping-Schmisshmish Shopping -- Okay, so I'm a little behind, make that very behind on my Christmas shopping. Unless friends and family would be excited to receive a bottle from the huge collection of gourmet sauces we've accumulated from a store where a good friend works, I am coming up short in the gift department. Then it hit me. Why am I stressing about this? If the world ends on December 21st, then it really doesn't matter what was or wasn't under the tree when it vaporized.
2. Survivor Finally Ends -- Just before they begin filming Survivor Modesto ("Jeff, what exactly is a Rocky Mountain Oyster?"), we realize that we are all actually part of Survivor Planet, the ultimate reality show, at the moment our front lawns catch on fire. Good luck finding that hidden immunity idol because the phrase "final three" is going to take an a whole new meaning when icebergs begin floating into San Francisco Bay.

3. Al Gore Redemption -- Sure, it's a big price to pay to be able to say, "See, I was right!" Still, as you watch your mailbox swept up in a sea of magma on Friday morning, you just may have to admit that this whole Global Warming thing might be real. Sure, there won't be time to be interviewed on CNN to claim victory, but still he'll know he had that one right.
4. No Fiscal Cliff -- And we thought our politicians were incompetent and leading us into economic ruin with their fiscal impotency. Of course, they couldn't possibly be as incompetent as they appear to be. Really, could anyone really be that clueless? Of course not. This whole Fiscal Cliff thing is just meant to distract us from the real issue, that being the end of the world. While we rush out to meet with our tax planner to see if we can still afford our Netflix subscriptions in 2013, no one is paying any attention to Earth's poles reversing.
5. Supersized Credit -- If your credit card company doesn't bill you until after the 21st, then, guess what! Your credit card has just been supersized. Ready for a Brookstone massage chair? Wanna spend 15 minutes with a Kardashian? Go for it! You'll never see that credit card bill. This brings a whole new meaning to the phrase "Shop 'til You Drop!"

6. It's Raining Cinnabons! -- Have you been skipping some of the foods you love so you don't end up five pounds heavier for the New Year? Well, if there isn't going to be a New Year then it's time to stop saying "No" to the foods you love America! Since we're known as a nation that holds back and says "No more for me" at the buffet line, it will be nice to see people finally let loose and indulge themselves. ("Make that a double-double-double-double!")
7. Peace and Quiet -- Is it too much to pay to die in a ball of flames to have Sean Hannity, Piers Morgan, Diane Feinstein, Donald Trump and John Boehner finally shut up? I really don't think so. Is the reversal of gravity too high of a price to cancel America's Got Talent, Bridezillas, the perpetual laugh track on the Disney Channel and any cooking show with Bobby Flay? No, that sounds about right. Where do I sign?

8. Virgin's "New Earth" -- Who is the only guy with his very own outer space airline and the financial resources to rebuild on a new planet? Sir Richard Branson, of course. Imagine what a fun new world that is going to be. I want in! I'm picturing very stylish outfits, sort of Star Trek meets Dolce & Gabbana, and martinis served with most meals. Virgin is already close to taking over the Earth with all of its new ventures, so this just sort of formalizes it by eliminating Earth and starting over on a new planet called "Virgin's New Earth." I hear WiFi will be free!
9. Party Like It's 1999 -- I imagine the first time people catch a glimpse of the Mayan Comet headed towards Earth there are going to be more than a few End of Earth parties thrown. I plan to hit as many as I can before impact. If you've been saving that good bottle of scotch or that 1989 bottle of Georges de Latour for just the right occasion, then you've just found it. Drink up!

Now, I know you are probably wondering what the tenth reason is that the end of the world this Friday is a good thing, because lists always come in groups of ten. Don't worry, I'll post that one soon...Saturday morning.

Rock On?

Who says nothing exciting ever happens north of the bay?

Last Friday morning, a one and a half inch rock was found in the yard of Novato resident Lisa Webber. She naturally concluded that the rock was a meteorite from the previous night's meteor shower. Because really, where else would a rock in one's yard come from? It's not as if you could just find a rock anywhere outside, right?



The Metorite as pictured in the Marin IJ

 This being Marin County, where things like distressed wild turkeys are taken really really seriously, it was only natural that NASA was called. According to our own Marin IJ newspaper, Peter Jenniskens, principal investigator for NASA's Cameras for Allsky Meteor Surveillance, came to Webber's home.

Now, if you've seen E.T., you can imagine what the scene was like at the Webbers' house. I'm picturing lots of guys in HazMat suits walking around with tongs to carry the meteorite into a mobile clean room.

Webber was quick to contain the situation, telling the Marin IJ, "I told him (Jenniskens), I'm not selling this (the rock) to a meteor market person. This is for science. I want him to have it for as long as he needs it and then when I get it back, I'll give it to my neighbor's son."

Not in Novato

Apparently, Webber is under the impression that there is a vast black market for meteorites in Novato. I think aside from that whole Lex Luthor/Cryptonite thing, she probably doesn't have a lot to worry about.

Not to be left out of the intergallactic hysteria, the San Francisco Chronicle declared "Tiny Meteorite Fragment Hits Novato Home" complete with a picture of the meteorite in foil, because any scientist knows that Reynold's Wrap does protect you from unknown outer space radiation. And, right on the heels of the Chronicle, the San Jose Mercury News declared "Scientist: Rock that hit Novato home is a meteorite." So, there you have it.

What was a bit ironic is that the home is occupied by a pastor. I don't know how the job review process works for pastors, but having your home pelted by outer space debris can't be the greatest sign. "Lord, send me a sign!" (Thunk!)

Novato-geddon Cancelled

To any neighbors constructing "Meteor Shelters" in their backyards (we don't really have basements here.), please stop digging. You can rest assured that we don't actually have to send Bruce Willis up into space to blow up the big one before it targets Marin County. People of Fairfax, uncover your hot tubs and take the tarps off your "herb gardens." Things are going to be okay.

It turns out that the meteorite found in Novato was actually a rock. I know! What are the odds of that?!?!

"I sincerely thought it was, based on what appeared to me was remnant fusion crust," said meteor hunter Jenniskens. "On closer inspection, that crust was a product of weathering of a natural rock, not from the heat of entry."

I can only imagine how many producers at The Discovery Channel were crushed to hear this news, since this now means their "Midget Meteor Hunters of the Everglades" show will now be cancelled. Rest assured Little People Big World, your time slot is safe.

So, if there is a moral of this story, I guess it is that sometimes a rock is just a rock. Sometimes, it's better to call Marin Landscape (Colored Gravel!!) before you call NASA. But still...rock on Marin County. Rock on!

Embarrassing Moments at Work

I feel sorry for the replacement refs. No really, think about it. We all make mistakes at our jobs once in a while, right? These guys are making mistakes on national television that has the whole country talking about how incompetent they are. That's gotta be tough.

One Ref Signals Touchback as the Other Signals Touchdown

There they were at the very last play of Monday Night Football, one of the highest, if not the highest rated programs on television. Two refs standing and facing each other giving two completely different signs with their arms. In the replay, you can actually see them looking at each other with a sort of "What the bleep are you calling that for?" expression on their faces.

Can you imagine what a stealth life these guys must be leading these days? Imagine walking into a sports bar in any city other than Seattle as a replacement ref. Conversation starts at the bar and eventually that dreaded question is asked as it always is, "So, what do you do for a living?" If you are replacement ref, you absolutely have to lie about your job. "I'm in sanitation. Um, I manage a pit bull adoption agency. Um, I manage a Kato Kaelin fan website." You would literally say anything other than "I'm a replacement ref for the NFL."

I've made mistakes at work. Probably the most embarassing...so far...happened early in my career. I was summoned to present an overview of the fledgling marketing program to the board of directors of the consumer software company in which I worked. I had gone through my PowerPoint presentation and rehearsed several times. I knew that thing cold. I was ready. So, I got into the meeting room with those board members and went through each section. There was "Advertising." There was "Trade Shows and Events." There was "Partnership Marketing and Licensing." And, there was "Pubic Relations."

I'm sorry, what was that last one?

Yup, I forgot one little "L" and it changed the tone of my whole presentation. There it was projected on an 8-foot by 10-foot screen (this was pre big screen tvs)...my strategy for "Pubic Relations." Thankfully, I just did this in front of 8 men who found neither humor nor repulsion in my slide.

Now imagine completely screwing up your job in front of millions of viewers. Imagine half the country talking about how awful you are, so much so that your employer has to call a press conference to comment on your actions. These guys are going to be lucky to ref a U12 soccer game after they are done with this gig.

So, the next time I have an "oooops" moment at work. The next time I pop off with a sarcastic comment in a staff meeting that would have been better left unsaid. I can think to myself, "at least I'm not a replacement ref in the NFL."

Bobblehead Economics

This week the political conventions are starting, which sort of plays out as the not-nearly-as-televised-as-they-used-to-be live versions of Best in Show. If you don't remember that movie, it's a spoof about people dressing up dogs and parading them in front of a crowd in hopes they will win best in show.

This year's big issue seems to be the economy. It seems when voters aren't working that they get a little cranky and stop caring about whether the government agencies are adequately regulating produce. I was previously concerned about the economy myself...that is until I discovered Bobblehead Economics.

Oh, I'm sorry. Did you miss this class in your studies? It's true that not every university offers Bobblehead Economics. Some people have to learn it on the fly on the mean streets of The Embarcadero in San Francisco.

Let's back up a step. Yesterday, my family went with some close friends to see a Giants game. We were there in person to see them not play so very well against the Atlanta Braves. (By the way, isn't is kind of politically incorrect now-a-days to have a baseball team named after Indian warriors attacking pilgrims? I'm just sayin'.) Anyhow, yesterday turned out to be Pablo Sandoval Bobblehead Day, a holiday that ranks right up there with Arbor Day and England's Boxing Day. People were lined up down The Embarcadero to get their own PabloBabloHeads.

A "PabloBobloHead?"

The general concept seems to be that if you've bought a ticket for your kids, they get to go home with a bobblehead to remember the day, whether they are in a $200 box seat behind homeplate or a $12 bleacher seat high above the field.

Unfortunately, that's not quite how it works out. We watched as people got in line, over and over again, and then left with four, five, six or more bobbleheads and headed out to the parking lot. This was as the game was about to start. At the time, I thought it was just some sort of bizarre hording activity. People were literally walking away with trash bags full of bobblehead boxes with looks on their faces as if they had just agreed to be married to a Kardashian for 72 days.

This morning, the mystery of Bobblehead Economics unfolded as I went on eBay out of couriousity. It turns out the Pablo Sandoval Bobbleheads are being sold just one day after the game for $44. So, here's how Bobblehead Economics works.

1. Buy the cheapest bleacher seat for $12-$14.
2. Stand in line over and over with your ticket and collect 6 bobbleheads.
3. Place them on eBay that very same evening and price them at $44.
4. Sell your bobbleheads for $264.
5. Net profit: $250.

Now, if either one of our political parties can harness the power of Bobblehead Economics, we could be at the dawn of a brighter economic future for America. Let's ask our media to stop asking Obama/Biden and Romney/Ryan about "jobs" and "taxes" and get to the real issue. "How will bobbleheads play into your economic strategy?" Until they can answer that question, I'm remaining on the fence.

So, the next time you are at a game and some guy walks by you with a trash bag full of bobbleheads and you think to yourself, "What a rube." Keep it to yourself, because the rube is probably wearing a Rolex and on his way to see his investment advisor.