7 anos

Bodas de Latão ou de Lã?!?!


Qualidade em vez de quantidade

A Ana mãe vai na média de 1 concerto por ano... Nada mau!
Peterzinho, no sábado vemo-nos lá.


Resumo das férias

As férias começaram assim
e tiveram muita piscina...
e muita praia...
com construções na areia

e algumas mazelas.


Eu, tripeira de gema, divulgo:

Here’s just one problem with the Portuenses: they won’t let you leave. Eat your body weight in bacalhau (salted cod) and they’ll insist you stay and round things off with a pastel, one of the local pastries glistening temptingly on the sweet trolley. Try telling the cabbie who overshot your destination that you’re quite capable of walking back 10 yards to the restaurant and he’ll switch off the meter and drive round the block to deposit you right at the doorstep.

What else to expect from a population whose nickname itself derived from an act of culinary selflessness? When the 15th-century caravels of empire weighed anchor in Porto on their way to go conquer Africa, the city’s inhabitants gave up all their available meat, leaving themselves with nothing but offal. Hence tripeiros. Tripe people. Amid the haphazard beauty of Porto’s old city, designated a Unesco World Heritage site in 1996, the people still eat tripe, and still display a rare sense of hospitality. “They say that in Lisbon if you can’t find somewhere, they will tell you once,” a dapper middle-aged man tells me. “But in Porto, they will take you there.”

A reportagem na íntegra aqui.