Rainy Saturday Lisboa, Sunny Friday Setubal

It's a bit before 9 in the morning and the rain has been steadily falling for about two to two and a half hours. Thepavement, the cobblestones and the calçadas (the polished stones) of the sidewalk are thoroughly wet. As a result, the city has moved into a slow space. This is the moment where time and motion are reduced to the speed of a ball bearing dropped through the most viscous of liquids. 

Looking up and down the street from my balcony not a person is moving. I can’t hear tires zinging past on wet roads as I would in an American city. One thing about America, the weather in all but the most severe cases is irrelevant to carrying out the activities of daily life. All in all, the slowness of the city in the rain has become an accepted part of life for us. Itdoesn't happen that often in the warmer months and so it is a break from the ususal, a time to recharge.

[Took a break here. Had to get the morning coffee pots going.  Always brew Francie’s first. Have to grind the Costa Rican beans, make sure the carafe is clean, and then get the whole water in the pot thing in motion.  Then I make myself a pot of the cheap stuff from the preground blend from our local supermercado, Pingo. Yes, I am drinking glorified dirty brown water, but decades of morning coffee rituals from back when I drank two pots of high test are not easily abandoned.]

Got to bed early last night. Awoke up early today. I heard the first thunder peal and realized I still had laundry on the line. There was a reason I left the clothing out last night but more on that below. I jumped up, opened the kitchen window and peeled the mildly damp jeans, undies and socks from the line. I took the load into our small dining room, put the dehumidifier on laundry and closed the room. I will check back in a few hours. If all works according to plan the clothing will be dry and the dehumidifier tank will need emptying.

Normally I would have had the laundry out on the line by ten on any given day and back in before dinner. Yesterday did not turn out as planned however. Francie planned to travel with some friends to Setubal and then to the Troia Peninsula for a day’s adventure. Being unsure of where the train platform was, and whether our monthly passes covered the journey, I rode up to the Sete Rios train station with her. I wanted to see if these issues could be easily sorted. We found the platform easily and her pass covered the trip.

Before we headed out, and it was early for us when we left the house, I started the wash. Our Bosch washer on the ecocycle takes three hours. I figured I could take Francie up to the station, grab a coffee, and have a pastry. I would still have plenty of time to get home and hang the laundry. 

Unfortunately Francie's group trip fell apart. Covid had touched one traveller's husband and with that the whole thing was ended by people dropping out. This is not a gripe. These people made wise and responsible choices. Covid still sucks. 

However, as far as we knew we had not been exposed to the virus. And there we were at the station and the train to Setubal would pull in within ten minutes. What does a flexible, active, and serendipity-oriented retiree do? Well he says, “What the heck? Let us go to Setubal.” Off we headed. (Note: I might have used a term a bit more profane than heck.)

I had been to Setubal before with my family in tow. It was Sunday or Monday because the mercado was closed. Also, it was misty and raining (at times). We wandered around, tried a local dish of note, choco frito, fried cuttlefish typicallyserved with potato chips or fries, salad, and a lemon wedge. It was okay but not a favorite. The thing I remember most from that visit was a group of bizarre statues set up in a park as part of a temporary installation. Also, the area around the train station was torn up and made getting around difficult.

Street repairs are done. The mercado was open. The mercado was great. Lots of vendors selling meats, vegetables, and of course seafood. There was a station where you could get an oyster and a shot of liquor for two dollars. The art in the entrance was just beautiful as were the azulejos on the back wall. Walked around the market for a bit and then got a coffee. I note the Setubal market is a real market and not the cleaned-up tourist affair that is the Porto market.

We decided to have a couple of galaos, think latte served in a glass cup and cheaper. We sat out in a lovely park, a park we had seen before on our last visit. However, after our coffees were done we walked to the end of the park and to the public beach. It was a lovely walk and the beach was nice. Apparently in high tourist season they have plenty of kiosks and wagons serving everything from caipirinhas (mojito with Brazilian cane liquor) to oysters on the half shell.

By the time we finished at the beach we were both peckish. What would a trip to a seaside town be without a stop for seafood? We consulted Google Maps, found a place with a 4.6 rating on more than a thousand reviews. It had only two $$s next to the entry. Both good and cheap, my favorites. I had seafood stew. Francie had three small, mild, grilled whitefish. Both meals were good. The lunch beer was tasty too but it made the ride back on the crowded train lessenjoyable. We wanted to sleep. Everyone else wanted to talk on their phones. Such is life.

After our exploring we took the Fertargus train back. Got home about four. I immediately hung the laundry out to dry but there was not enough daylight left to get the job done. I was so tired I just left the laundry out and headed to bed about ten thirty. And that brings us back to the beginning, me taking the laundry off the line in the early morning hours.

I am not sure what I thought of Setubal after my first visit. Maybe "meh". But after this second visit I recommend taking the train down to see the beach, walk the market, eat seafood stew, and enjoy the park while exploring the area. This is if you have time.