I’ve already written about Lisbon once before. But my previous post wasn’t really about the city at all, it was about this fucking guy. And while being harassed some random dude may have ruined my night, he certainly didn’t my trip or the city.
Lisbon is a beautiful city worth visiting, one of my favorites I have gone to in Europe. And enough people have asked me for recommendations, that I sat down to write with every intentional of crafting the travel guide that Lisbon and my readers deserve. But then I remembered the absolutely bonkers food tour I went on while I was there and decided to write about that experience instead. So justice for Lisbon will just have to wait.
I love taking a cooking class or food tour when visiting a new country if I have the time. So much of the culture and history of a place is tied to what and how people eat. Not only do I get to feel like I am bettering myself by learning something new, but I also get to indulge in one of my all time favorite past times, binge eating.
And Portugal was no exception. There were so many different foods that I wanted to try. And because I was traveling alone, an evening food tour was the perfect way to pass some time. It was a chance to meet some fellow travelers and do something at night besides visiting a bar or club by myself.
The time allotted for this food tour stretched on well beyond the normal two or three hours. When I checked my receipt of the experience it says four hours but I could swear that when I booked, it was five or six. It certainly ended up feeling like five or six. This was already unusual but not unheard of, and the tour has over a thousand positive reviews. It promised six different courses at six different restaurants, with each stop including a drink.
Eager to start eating, I showed up at the meeting point ahead of schedule. I chatted with the guide as time passed. It turned out that it was me and a party of six that had booked for that night. It can be tough to break into a new group as the only outsider, but I remained optimistic. I was beginning to think that I was going to end up having a private tour when six ladies showed up.
A pregnant woman, the self proclaimed leader of the pack, came in hot with a bitchy Karen vibe. Before so much as a hello she stalked up to the guide and loudly and unnecessarily declared with a sweeping arm gesture that no one in the group drank. As if the tour was somehow going to force alcohol upon them without their knowledge. Or she was afraid that one of her rank and file would go rouge and order a drink unless the guide was there to help her enforce their sobriety. Why you would pay a premium for a food tour that specifically includes six alcoholic beverages when you have so many other options available to you that are cheaper and more conducive to your lifestyle is beyond my understanding.
At that point I knew that I was dealing with either an AA group or Mormons. Either way, it already seemed highly unlikely that I would be making any new friends that evening.
Our first stop was just a few paces from the meeting point for a small shooter of ginja, a sweet liqueur made with sour cherries. I tried one as everyone else watched and our guide chattered a bit about the drinking culture of Lisbon.
I ended up getting more culture than I bargained for. After that first shot our guide had us walking around the downtown area for the first two and a half hours of the trip. We took elevators, a unique feature of this city on a hill to get from one point to another, and walked through back alleys. He showed us different view points of the city. All beautiful, none of which included food. This was all fine and well, but I had come to eat. I was already quite hungry when I showed up at 4:30 pm. By 7 pm, I was starving. When we finally sat down at the fist restaurant the server presented us with a single meager bolinho de bacalao (salt cod fritter) each. I had champagne while the others chattered among themselves, debating if they wanted soda or juice.
By this point the ladies had outed themselves as Mormons, not recovering alcoholics. Sure, they were all nice enough, but still I would have much preferred the latter. They were all from Utah but had met at the one Mormon church in all of Luxembourg, where they had ended up because of their husbands’ various jobs. They had since dispersed back home or to other parts of the world. This was a girls trip and a reunion.
They joked about being sister wives and said I could ask them questions if I wanted, which I did. I have only ever seen men on mission trips but it turns out women have the option as well. For men it is not mandatory but it is expected. For women, not so much. Out of the six one had done a mission trip. The church assigns the location to you, it’s not something you can choose. She had been assigned Japan, where she lived for six months. That is also how she met her husband, one of her fellow missionaries. They laughed about how they felt the worst for people assigned Utah. I had never thought about it but the toughest location is probably actually where there is no one left to convert.
Maybe I was imagining things, but the others seemed bored as I asked about her more worldly experience. After all, none of them worked. They all stayed home to take care of the children. They had all married by their teens or early 20s. All except one had at least a few kids, and she was planning on having one soon. They had all been born into Mormonism.
And as the night wore on and I continued drinking, my questions predictably went from mundane to rude. Do you actually wear magic underwear? I wanted to know. Yes, but we don’t call it that, was the polite if understandably terse answer. By the last stop, a pastel de nata, I stopped myself just short of asking about soaking. At this point, the group had turned on me, and I was as eager to get away from them as I’m sure they were to get away from me.
I may not have made six new friends that night. And I may have suffered hunger and Mormonism for a few hours. But in the end, I did manage to learn something about how the other half live, and I did get to stuff my face with food that was worth the wait.
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