I have criticized the concept of the free market, but one exists in culture and customs. Things that are fun, that are intriguing, that are useful, tend to, like seeds, get carried out of their original soil and be planted elsewhere. The original meaning and context is left behind or altered.
A few years ago I crashed a wedding at a fancy hotel in Shanghai. As I watched the bride descend a long staircase, I thought how the woman in the white dress on her wedding day is such an iconic image, that even here in China I see it.
On a more quotidian level, the Parisian sidewalk cafe has spread to much of the world, even while often losing the French accoutrements. Seeing people dine on the sidewalk is now common around the world. I am not positive it began in Paris, but I think it is a big part of it. This custom spreads because it is pleasurable to eat and drink outside, to chat, and to observe.
An American custom that is spreading widely is Halloween. Dressing up as a witch, a goblin or a superhero is fun, as is walking around asking for candy.
In Prague where we were living, witches and skeletons adorned public schools and supermarkets. And while actual trick or treating was rare, it did go on, although largely in neighborhoods with lots of Americans.
Here in Portugal, I am tapping out these letters and spaces on the day after Halloween, November 1st. It is All Saints Day here, a public holiday. A holiday that has little to do with Halloween, but has become blended with it, as I will tell.
In the morning today on All Saints Day, our daughter EC age 5 walked the streets with some new friends. They knocked on doors and treats were placed in their sacks. She did not say “Trick or treat” though. She said “pão de Deus,” or “bolinho, bolinho.”
The custom goes back to 1755, when an earthquake, one of the largest in the last 2000 years according to a book I read, destroyed Lisbon and many other towns and cities in Portugal.
Afterward, impoverished people walked door to door asking for food. This gradually transformed itself into the custom of children walking door to door asking for “pao de Deus.” They were given nuts and raisins put in a canvas bag, traditionally one made from rags or patches.
As my daughter got to experience, this is still done in Portugual and here in Odemira. But it has merged with the customs of Halloween, even though that was last night.
Children of all ages walked the sidewalks, many carrying the patchwork-cloth bags. We were told that elementary schools often help kids make the bags. But a substantial number of children were dressed up as witches, devils or other Halloween garb. Wearing any kind of costume is not part of the original custom. And the kids now mostly receive candy, not nuts and raisins or special cakes called a broa or broinha. (We did buy some from a bakery, and they were really good. A kind of cornmeal thing with honey and nuts.)
An older woman at one house had prepared little paper containers of nuts and raisins. I sensed she was carrying on how things used to be done. And another woman instructed the children to say “pao de Deus” and not “bolinho, bolinho.” She wanted the religious part of the custom to be included. I think Halloween originally had some religious meaning, but I certainly don’t know what it was. It’s not there anymore.
I did read on the Internet (so it must be true), that Halloween was originally a pagan custom, which Christians took over. So the cultural free market was happening even then.
It’s a good thing, this free market of culture and customs. We share what we like, and then we stick on a meaning that suits us.
Bitter, Sweet, Bitter; No, Yes, No - A Memoir
We have the illusion of a continuous self but really we are different selves held together by memory. So say I, the great philosopher.
This comes to the mind of my present self in contemplating what my past selves have experienced over the last week.
I attended my nephew Jack’s wedding in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, and it was fabulous. Such a good time in the soft, warm Carolina air. Seeing my siblings, in-laws, friends, nephews and a niece was wonderful, as was eating and drinking and celebrating. So glad I didn’t miss it. And it is too bad K and EC didn’t get to come.
But before these good times, I had the bad time of flying across the ocean in an eastward direction, and then the bad time of flying back in a westward direction. And the accompanying bad times of waiting, including in lines in airports. And experiencing the jet lag after each voyage.
It would startle those who dreamed of flight a century ago to hear me complain that I am not comfortable as I am thrown across an ocean in about a third of a day. Where is my gratitude that such a quick trip is possible!
But my body is only aware of of its six-foot seven-inch length, including unusually long legs, being squished between two rows, with little leg room, for many hours, in forced proximity with many other people, on flights that now that are almost always completely full.
One reason flying is not much fun is our country’s airline policies. See my 2005 essay in Salon or this 2015 essay in Governing. I am actually quoted in this 2012 essay co-authored by Lina Khan, who is now the current head of the Federal Trade Commission and doing a great job, in my opinion.
But air travel policies are not the subject of this essay. Suffice to say, flying now is seldom fun.
My point is that if you had asked me on the way there or on the way back, my self would have regretted the decision made by the previous self to attend this wedding at all. But the self that actually attended the wedding was eternally grateful to the self that had committed itself to traveling there, including the confinement in an airplane.
Which self should my present self listen to?
My travel actually included an unrequested day in New York City. Due to what I was told is a lack of air traffic controllers in Newark, (more air-travel policies to consider), my flight from Raleigh was held on the ground for about 90 minutes. This meant I missed by minutes the flight to Lisbon. The unsmiling agent would not open the door for myself and another guy, even though the plane was still there.
Tummy Time
I continue to eat a lot of fish here in Portugal. I am grateful that I can do so.
One I ate recently was safia, a small fish I cooked myself in my new outdoor pizza oven. (More on that later perhaps). Safia is eaten a lot around here and is caught in the Mira river that connects to the old city of Odemira. While our son Max was here, we took a boat ride along the Mira and saw, during a break, a man catch a safia and reel it in.
This put the fish in my mind, so I bought some at the city market. It is a humble fish, cheap. Six euros a kilo at the market, so less than $3 a pound. I am reminded of spot, a humble fish my mother fried often for us children in Virginia Beach, but seen less now. I think diners favor easier, bigger fish now, like salmon or tuna.
Here are the three safia I cooked for my family. I couldn’t find any translation of it into English. Maybe it is only seen here in Portugal.
. . .
Some late breaking news on the eating front, as usual.
Today (It is now the day after All Saints Day) at the restaurant two blocks up the street from us, I had Cozido a Porteguesa.
This was very much not seafood. It was a meal a Czech or Pole would be proud of. It was cabbage, hunks of pork and beef, three kinds of sausage, chunks of fat, a spare rib, rice, and sweet and regular potatoes, all cooked together. Thus the name “cozido.” In a very general way, it’s similar to the Cocido Madrileno, a dish from Madrid. The Madrid dish usually includes garbanzo beans, which weirdly, the Portuguese version did not, at least this one. I say weirdly because the Portuguese love garbanzo beans and eat them all the time.
The Cozido a Portuguesa was very good, even if not something I would eat every day. What you see below is a half portion! (I fear to see the full.) The entire meal, including a glass of wine, coffee afterward and bread and olives, cost me 8 euros.
By the way, the sweet potatoes here are really something special. A different variety that is lighter and with a different taste. Worthy of their own post sometime.
I corrected my directions in the post. As has been advised to me by an alert reader, one flies westward from europe, and eastward from USA. Dohh!
Yes we did! I cooked them in my pizza oven, whick makes everything taste better. But kristi did not eat much of hers. She said she just didnt like the taste of the flesh much. Pretty mild white fish. But i resolved to make a sauce next time.