While I was researching things to see, do, and eat in Portugal, I inevitably came upon stories about Pastéis de Nata and, more specifically, Pastéis de Belém. Often described as small custard tarts with flaky crusts and Portugal’s signature pastry, I couldn’t wait to try them. I also read that these tarts originated in Belém and the original recipe was a closely guarded secret. Versions of the tarts, I was told, could be found in one of the many patisseries to be found all around Portugal. I knew I wanted to at least try them in any given patisserie, but I loved the idea of trying the original recipe in Belém. While planning our trip, we were talking one night to our good friends Jason and Amy who previously enjoyed a quick trip to Portugal as a side venture from their trip to Spain. As soon as the topic came up, Amy told us that we just had to try Pastéis De Nata. She told us that she and Jason had fallen in love with the tasty treat so much that she’d tried to recreate them at home, with disappointing results. I told her that I’d read about them and was thinking that we might make the trek to Belém to try the recipe that started it all. She told me that’s where they tried them and let me know that they were definitely worth the quick drive.

Trying to pretend that I needed a reason besides pastry to make a decision about what to do on our trip, I looked into what else Belém has to offer. It looked like a really cool place to see, right on the water with some historical sights and monuments and the like. So, the decision was made and so our second morning in Lisbon, we grabbed an Uber for the 15 minute ride to Pastéis de Belém. Expecting to stand in a line when we got there, we were pleased that we could be seated right away. The restaurant is huge, and I was a little intimidated when the hostess gave us vague directions to take any table in the back, toward the right. Sounds simple, but the back on the right was through a couple small dining rooms and down a short hallway. We found it and sat down and decided to have brunch while we were there. We chose several small offerings from the menu of different pastries filled with various meats and cheese and of course, ordered Pastéis De Belém for dessert (and also a few to take with us when we left). The descriptions we’d read and heard were accurate and the little treats did not disappoint. The pastry reminded me a little of phyllo pastry and the custard was creamy and delicious, with just the right amount of sweetness. I was hooked. I’m pretty sure David was, too. Yummy, yummy, yummy.

A short walk through a lovely park led us to Belém Tower. I have to admit I hadn’t been all that excited about seeing a military tower, but I was taken by surprise when we arrived. A young man was playing the violin as the gentle waves kept time behind him. The tower (surprisingly to me) sat just in the water and was a sight to behold. We’d read that it was one of the only structures to survive the 1755 Lisbon earthquake and there was a certain elegance to its straightforward architecture. I don’t know why, but I didn’t want to leave for quite a few minutes. Shamefully, I am sometimes bored by sites with historical significance, but not so this time. Maybe it was the violin and the metronomic waves, maybe the lovely, fresh, cool air, maybe the sturdy and enduring building itself. Who knows and it doesn’t much matter, except that it occurred to me that I might be more open-minded to this kind of sightseeing in the future.

We continued our walk and came to the Discoverer’s Monument and I was just so happy to be there with David. It occurs to me as I write this that I . . . wait. How do I say this without sounding cheesy. I don’t know if that is even possible, so maybe why try. I’ll just say it. I knew long before I met David that I wanted to be with someone who is both kind and intelligent. But even knowing that was what I wanted couldn’t prepare me for sharing these experiences with just such a man. You see, earlier, while walking to the tower, I spotted a sculpture of and airplane and I immediately thought that I would snap a pic and send it to my dad. It was one of those moments when I’d forgotten for just a second that Dad is gone. The realization (again) that I could never send anything to him ever again followed just as quickly, along with the accompanying gut-punch of grief. David was walking beside me and when he asked what was wrong, I told him. He saw my eyes swimming with tears and just said, “Oh, Honey”, and he put his arm around me, shoring me up. I know his heart knows mine and his infinite kindness and understanding are things I hope I never take for granted.

So, that was the kindness part. Then, when we were admiring the monument, he said something about some of them being controversial. I didn’t know why they would be and, when I asked, he told me about some of the histories of the men being honored and the ways they changed, or at least affected, the world. He would say that’s just knowledge, and I get what he means, but it’s more than that. It is his knowledge combined with his understanding of history as more than just facts that make his words compelling. He often says things that trigger my curiosity and he has never made me feel less than because I have so little knowledge of history. Had I not been with him at the monument, I would’ve still enjoyed the artistry of it, but his knowledge and intelligence add so much more. So, in the space of an hour or two, my experience of this incredible place was immeasurably enhanced by experiencing it with him, my beloved.

Okay. Enough mushy-gushy stuff. This is supposed to be a travel journal, not a love letter, but perhaps they are inextricably intertwined.

The next day was a driving day . . . Oh! Wait! Saturday night’s dinner! Iberian Black Pig. That’s all I’m going to say. It has to be tasted to be believed!