I have two preferred locations. One of them is Portugal. —Cliff Richard
Falesia Beach in the Algarve area of Portugal on the southern coast is considered one of the best beaches in the world. Though I will not argue the accolades for this beautiful beach, I never really know how the powers that be come to that moniker. Is it location? Is it sunsets? Is it lack of crowds? Is it an exotic ambiance? Or…..is it the cliffs? Praia da Falesia has all of these.
Except for warm water, however it was early in the season, first week of May. This was the only drawback we experienced on this magnificent beach. Of course, the kids didn’t mind.
The grandchildren loved the large beach.
The high cliffs give this beach a hint of privacy.
The clay cliffs look like they could crumble from the attack of six small children with plastic shovels and buckets. But that is the allure of the cliffs, delicate but rugged.
I loved the shadow here. Since I am writing this on Christmas Day, it think it resembles Mary riding to Bethlehem.
The pink spiny thrift was in bloom.
There are beautiful sunsets.
“Out on praia de Falesia, I listen to the waves. Out on praia de Falesia, everyone behaves” Kent Nickell
Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life—Pablo Picasso
Lisbon, Portugal is a very easy city to navigate as a biped. We did it with six grandchildren, the oldest being eight. One thing that stood out for me was seeing the many colored tiles and murals imbedded in the walls of narrow streets. Also the brightly-colored doors being extra splashes of color in an already multi-hued city.
It didn’t take long to realize these little surprises were part of the visual culture of Lisbon. And I loved it. I’ve thought about these nuggets of art scattered about Lisbon since I have been home and I think you could create some kind of scavenger hunt if you are traveling with a large group of family or friends, especially with young children. I think it would help the children to appreciate the surroundings and be aware of the city they are exploring. I will leave the details and rules up to you.
Here are a few tiles, murals, and doors I saw in Lisbon:
Of course, you could buy your own and hire a stone mason or brick mason and insert it into your 800 yr-old exterior house walls and start a tradition here in Indiana.
I will loan you this tile of Mrs. Big Surf and me to get you started.
If there is one portion of Europe which was made by the sea more than the other, Portugal is that slice, that portion, that belt. Portugal was made by the Atlantic—Hillaire Beloc
In the spirit of Vasco da Gama, Portugal’s most famous explorer, my family headed to Lisbon in May of 2024. Of course da Gama had a crew of 170 sailors and four ships as he headed around Africa toward India, we on the other hand had six grandchildren in tow…who’s the real explorers here.
My son-in-law says, “All old European cities look alike, a small ancient part of the city with narrow streets that are hard to navigate, surrounding a large cathedral from medieval times, shops and cafes to draw in the tourists, an few smattering of plazas, and outer modern neighborhoods with large streets.” Now this is a rather simplistic view of European cities, but he is a realist and the dreamer in me refuses to give in to this view.
Granted we have seen a number of old cities in Europe and I would be hard pressed to immediately tell the difference if you dropped me blindfolded in the middle of one the ancient parts of Rome, Munich, Salzburg, Paris, London, Athens, Istanbul…You get the gist. Only the language and some surrounding vistas would give me a clue.
Be that as it may, I loved Lisbon. And yes it followed the pattern of the other cities, however the hills and the ocean and the river made this city different. Lisbon reminded me of San Francisco without the survivors of the Summer of Love. There are lots of vistas atop hills with views of the sea and the Tagus River, vibrant colors against a backdrop of bleached-white exteriors and redbrick tiled roofs that seem to come to life in the setting sun.
After writing many blogs, most of which involve traveling with small grandchildren and family, I have decided my blogs are not for you younger travelers or retired couples with more sense than me, moving about these cities, unfettered by the whims and needs and occassional temper tantrums of small children. After all, most of you are writing your own blogs. There are so many good travel blogs, that’s how I knew where to go in Lisbon. This is about how we handled Lisbon. We went to Portugal in early May so there were plenty of flowers in bloom to add to the beauty.
We stayed in the Alfama district of Lisbon. It’s old and an easy walk to see some of the popular sights, unless you have an aversion to walking uphill.
This is the gate to the Castle of Sao Jorge atop a large hill with a great view of Lisbon. We didn’t go in, just walked around a little, wearing out the kids. It is crowded, so get tickets before you go.
Our kids loved playing on these steps in Alfama they didn’t care about touristy stuff.
Well let’s see some touristy stuff…
The Lisbon Cathedral is located in the Alfama district of Lisbon. I loved walking through this Medieval cathedral and also going up to the top to see the views of Lisbon was special.
I love seeing the old baptistries of the cathedrals. This is the baptistry of the Lisbon Cathedral (Church of St. Mary Major).
A view from atop the Lisbon Cathedral. You can see Christ the King statue on the distant hill and the suspension bridge, 25 de Abril Bridge, connecting Lisbon to Almada spanning the Tagus River.
The famous 28 streetcar is a popular way to see the city. Of course if I knew this, many, many other people knew it too. Get in line…we didn’t. You remember… six grandchildren.
The Rua Augusta Arch was built in 1755 to commemorate the reconstruction after the 1755 earthquake. Going through this arch leads to the large Commerce Square (Praco do Comercio).
This is the Praco do Comercio. What is it about large open spaces that triggers kids to run wild, my grandkids anyway. I observed them from the top of the arch, they were easy to find, I just looked for movement.
You can go up top of the Rua Augusta Arch and stand by the sculpture.
The statue of St. Vincent, the patron saint of Lisbon, is in the Alfama district on a hill near the Lisbon Cathedral.
Iconic view of Lisbon on the Tagus River atop a hill in Alfama. It’s in a little garden behind the Santa Luzia church. Get there in late afternoon for the sun to hit the rooftops just right.
Another beautiful scene in late afternoon in Lisbon.
The Praca do Municipio, Lisbon’s city hall and public square with the spiral sculpture and octagonal platform make a great place to sit and watch people be annoyed by your grandchildren running amok.
The Pink Street with its hanging umbrellas is a quirky little surprise you may come upon.
This is a beautiful, serene little plaza outside St. Paul’s Church.
There are plenty of narrow streets that are colorful and have views of the sea and river. Notice the stone streets. Wear shoes with good tread because its get slick when they are wet.
The large Christ the King statue is worth the trip across the Tagus River to Almada.
It is a beautiful view looking back at Lisbon from the grounds of Christ the King statue.
Lisbon is a beautiful European city with wonderful views. The people are friendly and were never really intimidated by our horde of small marauders. If they could handle us, you will not be a problem.
Do you want to make a tamale with peanut butter and jelly? Go ahead! Somebody will eat it.—Bobby Flay
Antony and Cleopatra. Lennon and McCartney. Simon and Garfunkel. Abbot and Costello. Ben and Jerry. All are famous pairings. But nothing goes together like peanut butter and jelly.
Growing up I was a PB and J snob, for it had to be smooth peanut butter and grape jelly only. For a brief moment in the space-time continuum, my mom substituted jelly with bananas and that in itself was a wonderful duo for the tastebuds. However it was never a replacement for the original.
A couple of weeks ago, I lived out the above quote from Bobby Flay, except I substituted the tamale for a cheeseburger. Now I never would have ever thought of this, but due to some adolescent peer pressure (yes in a testosterone world, it still exists in your sixties), I succumbed to this immature baiting from co-workers. It is still confusing to me how the testosterone levels can reduce as you age but the level of immaturity stays the same.
I was coerced one day to eat this amalgamation of Americana food… hamburger with cheese, bacon, pickled jalapeno, peanut butter, and GRAPE jelly. Well at least they got the jelly flavor right.
This ostentatious sandwich was served by the innovators at Whiskey John’s Restobar in Shelbyville, Indiana. Some would think you need a few belts of some Kentucky bourbon to order this. I wanted to loathe this burger so bad that I would never, ever consider ordering it again.
However, against all things tasteful and sensical, I LOVED IT!!!
Don’t ask me how it works, like trying to figure out falling in love, leave it alone. It just works. I will treat this as a delicacy and only eat it a few times a year, otherwise I will regress to my 6-yr. old self and eat it everyday.
Ours is a country built more on people than on territory. The Jews will come from everywhere: from France, from Russia, from America, from Yemen…Their faith is their passport—David Ben Gurion
The above quote is historic and also timely.
As one who finds the Jewish people fascinating, living in a country surrounded by enemies, I love this quote. I know the circumstances surrounding Israel, as of November 2023, with their war against Hamas, is a serious geopolitical event. And I have no sensical analysis to make any further comment. So, I will leave it at that since my little blog is nothing more than musings about things not so important.
However the above quote concerning the Jews returning to their homeland after 1948 reminds me of the many people who left Appalachia and returned to their homeland after their exile to Ohio, Indiana, Michigan, and all other points North to work in the factories. That also fascinates me.
This little jar of spice and heat in the title picture fascinated me when I found it in a recipe. Zhug (or pick any other name or spelling this condiment goes by) was brought to Israel by the Jews who migrated back from Yemen in the 1950’s. I wonder if the northern cities thank the Appalachian workers for bringing them soup beans and cornbread?
Zhug combines the warm spices of the Mediterranean region like cumin, cardamon, cilantro, parsley, with lemon juice, olive oil, and salt. Heat in the sauce is from jalapeno and black pepper.
The jar says you can use this on anything…so I am trying it on anything.
This delicious dish was the reason I ordered Zhug. It is an ingredient in Yottam Ottolenghi’s Braised eggs with lamb, tahini, and sumac, from his JERUSALEM cookbook.
I also used Zhug in a Japanese omelette with cheese and spinach. In the photo is my last tomato of the season that I happened to find while pulling up the plant…an added bonus.
People groups moving to different locations bring us new foods to try and enjoy. If you don’t want to move out of the region where you currently reside, you can always order from Amazon. For me it was easier than moving to Israel or Yemen.
They say that the Cathedral of Milan is second only to St. Peter’s in Rome. I cannot understand how it could be second to anything made by human hands—Mark Twain 1867
Milan was not on our radar as far as destinations to visit.
However, through a few twists from our family’s adventurous desire to rendezvous and convincing the missus and me to come along, we wound up on a spur-of-the-moment trip to this wonderful city in northern Italy. We used Milan as a meeting place to go to our ultimate destination of Lake Como.
Though Mrs. Big Surf and I decided to leave a couple of days earlier so we could explore some of Milan sans grandchildren, we neglected to factor in the air travel schedules…as in the willy-nilly schedule. After the initial flight cancellation due to a sick crew, the reschedule had to be changed due to a covid policy we did not meet for our connection into Amsterdam. Thankfully, a maverick gate supervisor got on the computer and found us a flight that would route us through Paris. Evidently the French didn’t care what our covid history looked like as long as we had Euros. But this delayed us so much, we lost a full day in Milan. We made the best of the day we had before the grandchildren onslaught and chaos ensued.
Now Milan is known for fashion and banking, two well-versed soliloquies that won’t be uttered from my lips. Milan is also known for its magnificent cathedral, Duomo di Milano, and Leonardo Da Vinci’s, THE LAST SUPPER. The former a huge gothic edifice in the center of town that is hard to miss, the latter in a small church you have to look for.
The Duomo is a marvel of engineering, started in the late1300’s and supposedly built over the baptismal site of Augustine of Hippo, has been added to and renovated down through history. It survived bombings in WWII, and even started another restoration in 2016. I love the dedication of Europe to it’s historical buildings and churches.
The Duomo of Milan with its piazza.
The Duomo with the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II entrance on the left.
The Duomo with lions from the Vittorio Emanuele II statue in foreground.
One of the many statues that adorn the Milan Duomo.
It is a wonderful experience to wander through the old cathedrals of Europe, thinking of all the Christians that have come inside to seek peace and comfort. And the Milan Duomo has the same experience (if you can tune out the hundreds of tourists).
I was mesmerized by the intricacies of the St. Bartholomew statue inside the Milan Duomo. I will spare you the details of his demise, but you can probably guess by the detail. Incidentally, that is his skin draped over him.
My lovely blue-eyed darlin’ and I love to sit on the steps of these cathedrals and watch the people in the piazzas.
Statue of Leonardo Da Vinci near the Galleria and Duomo.
The dancing bull mosaic on the floor of the Galleria is the coat of arms for Turin. For some reason if you put your heel in a certain spot and spin, it will give you good luck. You can tell where the magic spot is because it has worn away by all those people who suddenly have experienced good luck. Yes I did it, too…still awaiting for the Milan financiers to call me.
This small (by European cathedral measures) church and former convent is San Maurizio al Monastero Maggiore. It is a very special gem in the Milan necklace of sights. If you have time to visit this place, make every effort. It’s entire inside is made up of frescoes and ornate decor. It was built in the 1500’s.
Santa Maria delle Grazie houses THE LAST SUPPER. My advice get tickets in advance.
I was surprised to find THE LAST SUPPER was a frescoe.
Now let’s talk fashion…of which I know nothing about. I am not on the cutting edge of fashion, more likely on the cutting floor.
I will say the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II is the best mall I have experienced. It is the oldest shopping center in Milan. I went looking for some white socks.
When the missus and I couldn’t find anything in our price range at the Galleria, we offered this couple 100 Euros for their outfits.
Is there anything that sits on a table in front of you that is better than fried chicken?
Some say the above quote has an origin in the back alleys of shooting craps during the depression, when desperate gamblers just wanted to win so they could purchase a chicken dinner. Well we rolled snake-eyes on a proposition bet this week.
A newly acquainted couple treated the Big Surfs to a wonderful night at the Kopper Kettle Inn in Morristown, IN. This is an old inn and has been a restaurant for about a hundred years. The specialty is Hoosier fried chicken. Now being an eastern Kentucky boy, I don’t know the difference in Hoosier fried chicken or southern fried chicken. But one thing I do know…the Hoosiers love their fried chicken. There is even a “Winner Winner Chicken Dinner” chicken trail throughout Indiana.
Recently I found out that Colonel Harland Sanders was born in Indiana (Henryville). So the DNA of eleven herbs and spices wrapped in a helix of lard began in southern Indiana. Well, that is close to Kentucky.
OK enough history, back to the task at hand, eating this fried delicacy. The star here is the plate of fried chicken served family-style in this beautifully decorated old grande dame on US 52. I have eaten a lot of fried chicken in my day and I have my favorites, Mrs. Big Surf’s, my mom’s, any fried chicken I ate at a West Liberty Christian Church dinner to name a few. This is really good fried chicken at the Kopper Kettle. It is crispy on the outside and has tender and delicious meat inside, and not greasy…a rare combination.
For those of you in the minority who love chicken livers, well you can’t go wrong ordering them up here either. These are really good livers. And considering a chicken only has one liver, a whole hen house sacrificed for the plate that was put in front of us for only one order.
The sides were good, especially the green beans. We had a broccoli cheddar soup also that was outstanding.
I hope to return to the Kopper Kettle soon and, no, this is not a shameful solicitation for another invite but we wouldn’t turn it down. I just hope I don’t get larded and feathered when I return to my roots in Kentucky.
A plate of comfort.
For those who love fried chicken livers, you can’t wrong here. For the rest of you, my condolences for missing out.
In nineteenth-century Russia, sauerkraut was valued more than caviar—Mark Kurlansky
My love affair with sauerkraut was born out of a gastric sacrifice not to offend my future mother-in-law.
I know this seems like a strange beginning to a beautiful relationship with one of my most beloved foods. You see on New Year’s Day 1985 my girlfriend, who later came to be known as Mrs. Big Surf, invited me to dinner to meet the family on this day.
Of course this created a level of angst only to be surpassed by what she was about to make known to me…her mom would be serving sauerkraut. Now at this point in my life, I had convinced myself that I did not like sauerkraut, don’t know why. I never liked the smell of it as a wee lad and that carried over into teen and adult years. I think I tried it once in an elementary school lunch and vowed never to partake of this fermented cabbage again. We all know the eating habits of children will be figured out whenever we get a cure for the common cold, but I carried this vow until my 28th year of life.
The blue-eyed darlin’ being from German heritage and living in a German-populated area of Kentucky, informed me sauerkraut or some sort of cabbage dish was always served on New Year’s Day, a tradition I was not aware of or most likely didn’t care about at that point in my life. Nevertheless, I decided my love for this wonderful young woman would not be sabotaged because I wouldn’t eat what her mom would set in front of me on my first meeting with her.
I don’t know what happened at that dinner. Maybe my taste buds were affected by the reflection of the sauerkraut in the blue eyes of my future missus or my heart slapped my brain and said “Eat this you big doofus”. The sauerkraut was like a long-lost treasure that was found. From that moment, I became so enamored with this delicacy that I couldn’t get enough of it and still can’t. I eat it with pork, soup beans, sausages, hot dogs, chicken, out of the jar, off the floor, or anywhere I can get it.
Fermented or pickled cabbage was first known in ancient China about 2500 years ago or so, but our sauerkraut was probably closer to what the Romans made a few hundred years later. However, my fully known existence of sauerkraut was discovered thirty-seven years ago.
Mrs, Big Surf commandeered this recipe of Reuben Casserole from a friend when we lived in Highland Heights, KY. It captures the taste of one of my favorite sandwiches, the Reuben (clever).
Sauerkraut is just one of the many rewards in my life with Frau Groß Surfen.
Now I can eat eggs cooked almost anyway with almost anything. The blue-eyed darlin’ not so much. In fact it was presented to me earlier this year that she doesn’t always like the way I have prepared some breakfast eggs, but she ate them and didn’t complain because…you know…I fixed breakfast for her and she didn’t have to.
There is a question asked of Julia Roberts’ character in “Runaway Bride”, “How do you like your eggs?”. Now after some thirty-six plus years of marriage, Mrs. Big Surf finally let me know. And you can see how each new egg dish is prepared with a little gun-shyness.
THIS MORNING WAS A SUCCESS!!
We both enjoyed this dish. The tastes were there even if the techniques were a bit clunky. The big questions in preparing this dish the first time, and maybe some of you can answer this question. Is there a difference in times of boiling a small egg vs. a large egg? We didn’t cover this in high school or college physics. The thermodynamic properties of the egg may be different than copper.
Also peeling an egg always is an adventure for me. My advice is to watch this video and not listen to my kitchen consternations.
This dish has garlic, fresh parsley, eggs, milk, water, olive oil, dijon mustard, salt and pepper, and a little red wine vinegar.
If our Founding Fathers wanted us to care about the rest of the world, they wouldn’t have declared their independence from it—Stephen Colbert
To me nothing says “America” like small town celebrations. And Waldron, Indiana puts on a beaut. They call theirs “Freedom Fest”.
As soon as you drive into this small town in southeast Indiana you see what seems like all of the townspeople assembled out on their front yards and the rest of southeast Indiana looking for a parking spot. People dressed in the red, white, and blue are everywhere. Cars are everywhere. There are food trucks and vendors. There is a live band and a dunking booth. There is even a hot-air balloon giving rides to the extent of the length of the tether. But everyone is there for one thing…FIREWORKS!!!
So our mission was to somehow find a place to park, eat some food and leave before the fireworks. We knew how difficult it would be to try to leave this congestion after the fireworks with two small grandchildren and a granddad who is always an intestinal twitch away from a public spectacle.
So we parked about two miles out of town on the road by a cornfield. This is something we couldn’t do for previous fireworks shows in eastern Kentucky, big hills and all. Flat land is great for fireworks and avoiding traffic.
When there are two food trucks serving BBQ, it was hard to decide. So…of course I started eating one serving of rib tips from one truck while waiting in line to get a brisket sandwich from another. This was an excellent plan.
The rib tips from Mel’s Catering were very tasty and tender. When you can eat them with a plastic fork, you know they are very tender.
Mel’s Catering had a great menu for festival eating.
My second BBQ meal was from Dave’s Double Barrel BBQ. This was my second time eating Dave’s food and it was just as good this time. The brisket sandwich was really good and the cole slaw may have been some of the best I have eaten as a BBQ side dish. I loved the sweetness of the dressing.
The brisket sandwich from Dave’s Double Barrel BBQ is so good, especially with Dave’s sauce.
I was very impressed by this cole slaw from Dave’s. Even my grandson loved it.
Check out this line for the pineapple whip.
Most of the festival was set up at the Waldron High School athletic complex.
A large crowd awaited the fireworks.
I hope they stopped the balloon rides when the fireworks started.
Some of the fireworks pictures that were taken outside of town.
The “pinwheel”.
I know some folks were unhappy with America this 4th of July but I didn’t find any in Waldron, Indiana. And Big Surf had the freedom to eat as much BBQ as he could handle.
Big Surf Daddy's Pix, Tix, and Licks 