SSoP Podcast Episode 69 — Portugal: Storytelling, Surfing, and Ineffable Saudade

This is a transcription of Portugal: Storytelling, Surfing, and Ineffable Saudade

David: Hello. Welcome to Strong Sense of Place.

Melissa: In each episode, we focus on one destination and discuss what makes it different than any other place on Earth.

David: Then we recommend five books we love that took us there on the page.

Melissa: I’m Melissa Joulwan.

David: I’m David Humphreys.

David: We’re going around the world one great read at a time. Thanks for joining us.

[cheerful music]

David: Welcome to Strong Sense of Place. Today we get curious about Portugal. Today on Two Truths and a Lie, we ask the big questions:

• Can a chicken be a national hero?
• Can a bookstore outlast war, fire, and late-stage capitalism?
• Can a poet become an entire literary movement… by himself?

Then we’ll talk about five books we love —

Melissa: I’m recommending a beautiful cookbook that combines memoir, travelogue, and history that may inspire you to book a trip to Lisbon immediately.

David: I’ve got a book about a character named Sally Jones. She’s a mechanic. And a gorilla. And she’s on a quest for justice. But first, Mel’s going to bring us up to speed with the Portugal 101.

Melissa: Let’s get oriented! Portugal is tucked into the western edge of the Iberian Peninsula. Spain is to the east, and the Atlantic Ocean rolls out to the west. It’s the westernmost country in mainland Europe, which is part of why it’s had such a strong connection to the sea for centuries.

Melissa: Portugal is roughly the same size as the US state of Maine and has about 10.3 million people. The official language is Portuguese, and the capital is Lisbon.

Melissa: We visited Lisbon in March, and I found the higgledy-piggledy architecture and warm light very charming. It’s one of those places that made me feel homesick for it while I was in it. The Portuguese have a word for that sense of melancholic longing — it’s Saudade. It’s also embodied in fado music, Lisbon’s version of the blues. Fado means ‘fate,’ and the songs are poignant ballads about exquisite heartbreak, lost sailors, and haunting romance.

Melissa: The city sits on the Tagus River in a small valley with seven hills all around. There are hills and stairs to climb everywhere. There are so many, in fact, that some of the streets have elevators and escalators to move you from one neighborhood to the other. There’s a famous elevator called the Santa Justa Lift that looks like a cross between the Eiffel Tower and the AT-AT Walkers in the desert from the original Star Wars.

Melissa: Scattered up all those hills are houses painted the colors of ice cream sherbet, and on top is a stone castle that looks exactly like what a kid would draw if you said, ‘Draw a castle.’ There’s color and hubbub everywhere. The whole city has the rollicking feel of a port town – like, it’s a nice place now but hasn’t entirely cast off its rough-and-tumble past.

Melissa: Highlights of our trip included the National Tile Museum, which might have been my favorite thing. The handmade tiles — they’re called Azulejo found throughout Portugal aren’t just decoration; they’re storytelling in ceramic. We went to a cocktail bar that’s like a Cabinet of Curiosities. We also went on an all-day food tour with Culinary Backstreets, which focused on the influence of Portugal’s colonies on its cuisine. I’ll tell you more about the amazing Portuguese food when we get to books. And we’ll share stories and photos from our trip on Patreon, if you want to know more about what we did in Lisbon.

Melissa: Now… let’s talk about history.

Melissa: Before Portugal was Portugal, it was part of the mish-mash of Celts, then Greeks, then Romans. You can still walk through pretty impressive Roman ruins on a day trip from Porto or Lisbon. Then, in 711, the Moors showed up — and that’s why when you visit today, you can wander through the ruins of a Moorish castle in Sintra, eat foods seasoned with coriander and cumin, and see colorful tiles everywhere you look.

Melissa: Portugal’s borders became the ones we know today in 1143, after Afonso Henriques declared himself king and backed it up with a few battles — including the delightfully medieval-sounding Battle of Valdevez, which involved mounted knights and is immortalized in an enormous blue-and-white tile mural at the Porto train station.

Melissa: Once the country found itself, it decided to go looking elsewhere. In 1415, Prince Henry the Navigator became fixated on exploring the coast of Africa. He sent two young seafarers out in a square-rigged galleon. They were shipwrecked by a stormy gale — thus discovering Madeira, a lush green volcanic island that would later be a plot point in the novel Jane Eyre and become well known for its delicious fortified wine.

Melissa: After that initial taste of success, Portugal’s Age of Exploration was off and sailing. Shout out to my favorite explorer and Jeopardy! answer Vasco da Gama! He found a sea route to India in 1498 that boosted Portugal’s trading power. And let’s not forget Ferdinand Magellan, whose eponymous Strait at the southern end of South America was the only passage between the Atlantic and Pacific until the Panama Canal. Eventually, Portugal had territories in Africa, Asia, and Brazil — which explains why nine countries around the globe speak Portuguese.

Melissa: Before we wrap this up, we need to talk about the Treaty of Tordesillas — just because I find it outrageous, and I need everyone to share my indignation. In June 1494, Spain and Portugal decided they should divvy up the New World of the Americas between them. They got out a big ol’ crinkly parchment map, dipped an extra-large feather quill in ink, and drew a line on the map from north to south in the Atlantic Ocean. Spain said, ‘All the lands to the west of this line belong to me!’ ‘Sweet!’ said Portugal.’ All the lands to the east belong to me.’ Eventually, they scooched the line a bit further to the west so Portugal could claim Brazil. As National Geographic says, ‘The treaty worked out well for the Spanish and Portuguese empires, but less so for the 50 million people already living in established communities in the Americas.’

Melissa: Happier ending: By 1822, Brazil gained its independence. So have Mozambique, Goa, and Angola.

Melissa: I’ll say it again: Colonialism is the worst, but it made Portugal’s architecture, food, and music pretty awesome.

Melissa: So let’s talk about what you can do when visiting Portugal.

Melissa: If you’re all about splashing in the surf and playing in the sun, Portugal has you covered. The coast is nearly 500 miles long, and there are beaches for every kind of sun bunny. There are soft stretches of sand, hidden alcoves reached by winding wooden stairs, dramatic rock formations, a beach with a waterfall, and one near Lisbon, where you can swim at the foot of a dramatic stone fort.

Melissa: I don’t know how many surfers we have in our audience, but I must tell you about Nazaré. There’s an underwater canyon off the coast that’s basically a giant wave generator. Last year, a German big wave surfer named Sebastian Steudtner maybe set a new Guinness World Record on a wave that measured 94.73 feet — that’s 28.57 meters. I’ll put a video in show notes. It makes my palms go sweaty to watch it. He’s a tiny dot on a massive wall of churning gray and white water.

Melissa: Moving inland to safer pursuits, Évora is a walled town that dates back to the 14th century. There’s a Gothic cathedral, ruins of a Roman temple, a 16th-century bone church, and a cozy cobbled town square. The town is in the Alentejo region, which is known for its black pigs, red wine, and a special bread made from wholegrain and white flour that’s meant to be dipped in a bowl of local olive oil.

Melissa: If you want to sip local wine, you can visit the Douro Valley. It’s Portugal’s answer to California’s Napa — all green terraced vineyards and sunny skies. It’s the only place in the world that can legally produce port wine. And port wine is delicious. Tawny port has a caramel-ish flavor, and red port, which is slightly less sweet, tastes like a berry that’s thinking about chocolate.

Melissa: I’m also happy to report that Portugal is a fantastic place for book lovers.

Melissa: About 90 minutes from Lisbon is the historic hilltop town of Óbidos, a UNESCO City of Literature. It’s also known for its international chocolate festival, which is held every spring. The town looks like it leapt off the pages of a fairy tale: medieval castle, twisty cobbled lanes, red tile roofs, and a dramatic stone wall that wraps around the shebang.

Melissa: Now, all literary towns have bookshops, but Obidos has bookshops that are pretty special. One is inside a former winery, another is a market that combines second-hand books with fresh produce from local farms, and the best one is inside a repurposed 13th-century Gothic church. The books are stacked on the old altars. There are black-and-white tiles underfoot and tall wooden bookshelves tucked under the apse.

Melissa: After book shopping, you can stay at The Literary Man Hotel, which is located in an old convent and is run by the town’s former mayor. The historical spaces are filled with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves — including the restaurant — and all of the 100,000 books are for sale. You can stay in cozy guest rooms in the convent wing, or choose one of the more modern rooms that are all blonde wood and white linens. It’s a book lover’s dream hotel.

Melissa: Just another hour north of Óbidos is the oldest library in Portugal, and it’s a stunner. It’s the Biblioteca Joanina. Imagine a library that looks like Mozart’s music sounds, and you’ll get close to this baroque jewel box of a library. It sprawls over three floors, and the primary colors are red, green, black, and gold. So much warm, glowing gold! There are allegorical frescoes on the ceiling, and the bookshelves are topped with gilt curlicues. Huge windows are draped with red velvet curtains, and the second floor has a balcony that goes all the way around, overlooking the space below called The Noble Floor. It also has a Cabinet of Curiosities and a botanical garden nearby. All of which are open for touring. Bonus fun fact: The website says, ‘Entrance to the Baroque Library building is through the Academic Prison.’

Melissa: One final note on the Biblioteca Joanina: It has bats. According to Smithsonian magazine, the bats are welcome guests because they eat flies, gnats, and other pests that would otherwise damage priceless manuscripts. The bats live behind the bookshelves and come out at night to gobble up the bugs before flying out the library windows to get a drink of water. Each evening, the librarians cover the library tables with sheets of leather to protect the tables from the bats. In the morning, they remove the coverings and clean up any mess from their unusual tenants. They’ve been doing that since at least the 19th century. If you visit the library on a rainy day, you might hear the bats chirping and singing from behind the bookshelves.

Melissa: That’s the Portugal 101.

David: Two Truths and a Lie! I’m about to say three statements. Two of them are true. Mel doesn’t know which one is the lie.

David: First statement: There’s a bookstore in Lisbon that is older than the United States. Second statement: One of the national symbols of Portugal is a zombie. Third: One of Portugal’s leading poets used over 80 pen names.

David: One at a time: There’s a bookstore in Lisbon that is older than the United States.

Melissa: True!

David: Yes, that’s true. The oldest operating bookstore in the world is tucked into a stylish and romantic neighborhood in Lisbon.

David: The bookstore is called Livraria Betrand. They’ve been selling books there since 1732. When it first opened, you could’ve picked up a relatively new copy of Gulliver’s Travels — or even Newton’s Principia Mathematica, the book that gave us gravity. Their doors have been open from the theory of gravity to bored billionaires launching themselves into orbit.

David: Bertrand is part of the Chiado neighborhood, which is a pretty mix of sloping cobbled streets, steep hills, and wrought-iron balconies, art galleries, and pastry shops. There’s an opera house right around the corner. Bertrand itself is in a blue-and-white tiled building with a big wooden doorway. When you walk through that door, you are stepping into a conversation that’s been going on for nearly 300 years.

David: It is hard to overstate what this bookstore has survived – earthquakes, fires, dictators, world wars, revolutions … Amazon. The original Bertrand shop was destroyed in the 1755 earthquake that leveled much of Lisbon. They relocated to their current location in 1773 and just kept going.

David: When we went, I was expecting something dusty and dim — maybe a barely-hanging-on, scholarly little shop.

David: It is not that. At all. It’s a bright, welcoming space. New releases sit side-by-side with classics; there’s a good selection of English-language titles; there are some fantastic illustrated children’s books. The store is made of a series of rooms, more or less in a line. The first room has huge, handsome wooden bookshelves. One has a clock inset into it. I am a sucker for inset clocks.

David: The staff was great. There’s a cafe in the back that we didn’t partake in, but only because we’d been stuffing ourselves with pastel de nada for the three days straight. They’ve got coffee and wine and pastries. It would have been very, very easy to make an afternoon disappear there.

David: If you’re headed to Lisbon, absolutely put Bertrand on your list. Go for the history, go for the neighborhood. But go because it’s just a fantastic bookstore.

David: Next: One of the national symbols of Portugal is a zombie.

Melissa: That’s… false?

David: This is only technically a lie because I don’t think the Portuguese see it that way. But, you know, hear me out.

David: So there is a rooster that you’ve probably seen before — even if you didn’t realize what you were looking at. It’s a brightly painted — usually ceramic — rooster, with a puffed chest, vivid red comb, and feathers swirling in yellow, green, and blue. You might have seen it as a kitchen trinket, or a fridge magnet, or on a tea towel. It looks cheerful. Harmless. Decorative. But that little bird? It’s the Barcelos Rooster, one of Portugal’s most beloved national icons. And that rooster has a story.

David: The cheerful version goes like this: a long, long time ago, in the medieval town of Barcelos — that’s up in northern Portugal — a terrible crime took place. It was so shocking that the townspeople were desperate to find the culprit. So they arrested a stranger — a pilgrim, just passing through. The trial was not the model of due process. The man swore he was innocent, that he’d done nothing wrong. No one believed him. He was sentenced to hang.

David: And here’s where the story turns. As a last request, the man — the accused — is asked to be taken to the local magistrate — the guy who’d sentenced him — so he could plead his case one last time. And for possibly narrative reasons, the authorities agree. They humor him. They take him to the judge’s house, just as the judge is sitting down to dinner. On the table at the judge’s house? A plumb, roasted rooster. Golden, crispy, cooked.

David: The pilgrim looks at the bird. He looks at the judge. He stares him in the eye, and he says, ‘That rooster will crow! As proof of my innocence.’ The judge laughs at him. He ignores him. He sends him away. But later that night, just as the man is about to be hung, the rooster stands up! And it crows!

David: The stunned judge races to the gallows. The man is still alive. The knot had slipped. The judge pardons the man. And, from then on, the rooster becomes a symbol of justice, faith, and good fortune. But. Let’s be honest – that’s a zombie story. This is a tale about the redemptive powers of black magic. It was fully dead. Ready to be eaten. Comes back to life. Crows. No one in Portugal seems alarmed by this. They see it as miraculous. Hopeful. A divine intervention. And, you know, honestly, it’s hard not to love that. The good people of Portugal can stare a zombie-chicken square in the face and say, “Ah, yes, a symbol of truth and justice!”

David: So, the undead rooster goes on to be come a national icon. You’ll see the Barcelos Rooster everywhere. in markets, on key chains, painted on murals, hanging in airport souvenir shops. There’s a huge statue of it in the town of Barcelos itself. You can go there and pay your respects, either to a man who got an unexpected second chance. Or to necromancy. Your call.

David: Oh! And before we move on, you should know that the rooster is also the logo of Nando’s, the Afro-Portugese chicken chain. The little bird on the peri-peri bottle is the Barcelos Rooster. Nando’s started in South Africa, but it was deeply inspired by Portuguese flavors and culture. So they chose Portugal’s most famous rooster to represent the brand: bold, and spicy, and proudly traditional.

David: That’s the Barcelos Rooster. Hero. Icon. Possible zombie. And the Portugese wouldn’t have it any other way.

David: Last one: One of Portugal’s leading poets used over 80 pen names. We know now that this is true.

David: If you haven’t met Fernando Pessoa yet, get ready. He’s not just one of Portugal’s most beloved literary figures. He’s a bit of a literary mystery box. He’s one of those writers whose life was as strange and fascinating as the words he put on the page.

David: And even though he lived more than a century ago — in early 20th century Lisbon — Pessoa was writing and thinking about things that feel weirdly current. His whole life was a deep-dive into the kinds of identity questions that light up Reddit today.

David: Pessoa was a poet. But he was also a philosopher, a mystic, an essayist, and a self-taught astrologer. He’s maybe best known for creating a small village worth of people inside of his own head – and then writing as those people.

David: But let’s start with the basics.

David: Pessoa was born in Lisbon in 1888. At age seven, he moved to South Africa, where he lived for ten years. He was educated in English, and wrote his earliest work in that language. He eventually returned to Portugal and spend most of his adult life in Lisbon.

David: He had a quiet life. He worked as a translator and a correspondence clerk. At one point, he wrote letters for a sardine exporter. During his lifetime, he published just one book in Portuguese. It landed with a bit of a shrug. And, a year later, he died. In 1935. He was 47. And then Pessoa got huge.

David: Some of Pessoa’s friends knew that he had a trunk where he kept some of his writings. Right after his death, they went to his apartment. I expect they were like, ‘Well, we’ll read his diary and maybe they’ll be some unfinished poems.’ They opened the trunk. Inside it: more than 25,000 pages of unpublished writings. Not just scraps and half-finished drafts, but full works. Plays, essays, political manifestos, and poems and poems and poems. Not all of it was written under his own name. And here’s where it gets kind of tasty and weird.

David: Pessoa didn’t just use pseudonyms. He used what he called heteronyms — fully realized alter egos, with their own writing styles, biographies, birthdays, worldviews, and personalities. His heteronyms wrote to each other. They argued. They contradicted each other. Some were mystics. Some were classicists. Some were just wildly dramatic.

David: There are three that are particularly famous. There’s Alberto Caeiro. He’s a shepherd-poet who loved nature and distrusted logic. They was Ricardo Reis, a melancholic doctor with a strong sense of order and discipline. He wrote in the style of classical poets. There was Alvaro de Campos, who was emotional and cosmopolitan, full of existential despair, and bisexual. And then there was Pessoa himself — the ‘real’ Pessoa — who sometimes seemed like just another voice in that crowd. All of those figures left serious bodies of work. Some say that, when Pessoa died, Portugal lost its four greatest poets. Campos once wrote that it was Pessoa who didn’t really exist. And there were more. Many, many more.

David: Pessoa created at least 65 other heteronyms. Some of them were related to each other. They criticized and translated each other’s work. Pessoa created voice after voice to explore different philosophies and versions of himself. They even intervened in Pessoa’s real life. During his only known romantic relationship, a jealous Alvaro de Campos wrote letters to the girl. She enjoyed the game, and wrote back.

David: Pessoa is deeply loved in Portugal. He’s not obscure. He is everywhere. You’ll find his face on postcards and coffee mugs. He shows up in street art. There’s a board game with his name. His work is taught in schools. There’s a bronze statue of him sitting outside of one of his favorite cafes – just down the street from that that book store I told you about.

David: Reading Pessoa is a little like talking with someone who’s thinking about everything all at once — time, identity, death, beauty. And yet somehow, it still feels approachable. He can be serious, but also funny and tender. There’s a softness in all that complexity.

David: I want to wrap up with a few lines from Pessoa. This comes from Alvaro de Campos, his loudest, most impulsive self. The one who feels everything too much. He writes:

• To be great, be whole: nothing that’s you
• Should you exaggerate or exclude.
• In each thing, be all. Give all you are
• In the least you ever do.
• The whole moon, because it rides so high,
• s reflected in each pool.

David: Isn’t that nice? The whole moon — in each pool. If you’re curious, absolutely give him a try. We’ll link to a few of his works in the show notes. That’s Two Truths and a Lie.

Melissa: My first recommendation is ‘Two Nights in Lisbon’ by Chris Pavone. The author Chris Pavone specializes in intelligent thrillers that flirt with the tropes of spy novels. His work draws comparisons to old-school espionage writers like Ken Follet, Frederick Forsyth, and Robert Ludlum. But even though the plots hum along, they’re also deep dives into conflicted, complex characters, usually expats, who wrestle with issues of identity and trust. Set in Paris, Copenhagen, Zurich, Luxembourg, Argentina, and Iceland, they always have a very strong sense of place.

Melissa: So… this book. ‘Two Nights in Lisbon.’ The setup is a doozy!

Melissa: It’s 7:28 a.m. in Lisbon. A newlywed woman named Ariel Pryce wakes up in her hotel. Alone. She’s hot, so she flings off the sheet — and when she does, she realizes her husband John isn’t in the bed beside her. She’s groggy from the night before: jet lag, wine, food, sex with her new husband, a sleeping pill. But now she’s also feeling a flicker of panic that’s relatable and maybe a little over the top? She calls him. She texts him. She goes to the hotel’s breakfast room. Nothing. Now she’s in a STATE and starts to work herself up the chain of authority figures — first at hotel security, then the local police, and then the American embassy. But at each stop on that ladder, she realizes there are questions she can’t answer. Like, what exactly is the business that brought her husband to Lisbon? Why did she come along on a work trip? Why is she pressing the panic button so soon — couldn’t he just be having a dalliance with another woman? After all, her handsome new husband is much younger than she is, no?

Melissa: I don’t want to give anything else away because it would spoil the fun. But I can tell you that, by necessity, the action in this story takes place over just two days, so there’s a clock loudly ticking in the background, ratcheting up the tension and the stakes for Ariel.

Melissa: I read this on the plane to Lisbon and finished it while relaxing on our hotel bed. Happily, I never woke up alone in our room. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it one morning before opening my eyes. It was super fun to be reading this book while my experience sort of mirrored Ariel’s — staying in a hotel and seeing Lisbon through first-timer’s eyes.

Melissa: The author does a really nice job describing the sights, sounds, and vibe of the city’s different neighborhoods. Here’s a bit to give you an idea:

Melissa: ‘The praça is to the south. Ariel heads north, up the steep slope of Bairro Alto, through the narrow streets strung with party lights and laundry lines, dish towels and soccer jerseys flapping above clusters of tables in front of cervejarias and tabernas, hole-in-the-wall convenience stores, boutiques selling sneakers, sardines, a mind-boggling array of items made from cork. It’s Monday morning. The city is coming to life quicker than it had over the weekend, with stores opening and cafés filling, with people strolling to work on sidewalks made of mosaics, leafy trees everywhere, walls graffitied with names and initials and peace signs and big toothy smiles and cartoon dogs. No guns, no RIP notices, no gangster signifiers. Lisbon’s graffiti is a reflection of exuberance, not despair.’

Melissa: This book starts as a thriller, morphs into a spy novel-slash-police procedural, and then pokes around in emotionally painful places. As the story unwinds, we learn more about Ariel — who she was before she married her husband, and a Thing that happened to her. She becomes less opaque and less of the stereotypical woman-in-peril that she seemed in the beginning. In that first scene in the hotel, she comes across as a not wholly reliable narrator, maybe a little off-putting. But stick around — because you will fall in love with Ariel and her badassery.

Melissa: Without hitting you over the head with it, this story dives into issues of class and identity, violence against women, and the thornier side of mother-daughter relationships.

Melissa: Its plot twists and climbs like the alleys of Lisbon’s Alfama district. It’s outrageous, but you only need to suspend disbelief a little bit — and it really stuck the landing.

Melissa: It’s 450 pages in paperback, and I felt like I read it in a flash. For what it’s worth, I recommended it to our friend who was traveling with us in Lisbon, and she loved it, too. If you like travelogue thrillers that aren’t afraid to go into the shadows — like The Talented Mister Ripley by Patricia Highsmith, Tangerine by Christine Mangen, or The Divers Clothes Lie Empty by Vendela Vida — I think you’ll love this.

Melissa: It’s ‘Two Nights in Lisbon’ by Chris Pavone.

David: My first book is ‘Queen of the Sea: A History of Lisbon’ by Barry Hatton. This is a very readable, very charming history of Lisbon. Barry Hatton is a British foreign correspondent who’s been living in Lisbon for over three decades. You can feel his affection for the city in every sentence. This book feels like sitting next to someone at a bar who loves their city, and who’s thrilled to finally have someone to tell about it. It’s enthusiastic in the best way—like, ‘Hey, I love this place, and I think you’re going to love it, too.’

David: The structure is mostly chronological, but Hatton’s more interested in following the thread of the story than sticking to a timeline. He does this thing I really like, where he’s always pulling the past into the present. Right from the beginning—when he’s talking about the geology of the area, about what the Phoenicians would have found when they arrived—he’s also pointing out, ‘This hill becomes Alfama. This is why the castle’s up here.’ It’s grounding and helpful, especially if you’re planning to go. And he keeps that up throughout the book. He’ll talk about a 13th-century painting or manuscript and then tell you exactly where to find it today. He’ll say, ‘It’s tucked behind this building, here’s the address, and let me introduce you to the janitor who watches over it.’ It’s that specific.

David: And that might be the best magic trick in the book—he keeps walking you back and forth between Lisbon then and Lisbon now. And he shows you how the two are in conversation.

David: So we start with the physical layout of the city—why Lisbon is where it is—and then we move through the ancient past. But that chapter might detour into a description of a current neighborhood or a moment in modern Lisbon life. Then we’re back with the Romans, and then the Moors.

David: The next chapter opens with the conquest of Lisbon from Muslim rule in 1147. All very solid historical narrative. But then—there’s a break. A line of asterisks on the page. And suddenly, we’re talking about Fado. If you don’t know it, Fado is a uniquely Portuguese kind of music—it’s like the blues but more nostalgic, more poetic. It’s guitar-based, and the lyrics are often about heartbreak, longing, loss. And it’s deeply tied to Lisbon’s identity.

David: Now—why are we talking about it in chapter two? In the middle of a story about medieval conquest? I don’t know. But while I was reading, I didn’t really care. It’s just part of the charm of the book. It’s like that guy at the bar again—he’s telling you a story, he’s deep into it, but suddenly he says, ‘Oh wait—you’re going to need to know about Fado. Let me tell you.’ It’s conversational, it’s digressive in a good way, and the stories are well told.

David: And then, of course, there’s the Age of Exploration—colonialism, empire, the rise and fall of Portuguese power. And here, Hatton doesn’t gloss over the dark parts. He writes about slavery, the Inquisition, the forced conversion and eventual massacre of Lisbon’s Jewish population. He’s honest about the contradictions in Portugal’s history—its ambitions, its prejudices, its beauty, and its brutality.

David: One of the most powerful sections in the book is about the All Saints’ Day Earthquake in 1755. It was a massive quake—buildings leveled, followed by a 20-foot tsunami – six meters, followed by a fire that burned for six days. Tens of thousands of people died. Many thought it was the apocalypse. And because Lisbon was such a hub of culture and science at the time, the loss wasn’t just human—it was artistic, intellectual. Tens of thousands of books and paintings, maps, murals and tapestries, gone.

David: Hatton uses firsthand accounts to help us understand what those days were like. And he connects it to the philosophical world, too. Voltaire, among others, was shaken by it. How could a just God allow this? Especially in Lisbon, a city from which missionaries had spread Christianity around the globe? It became a kind of Enlightenment-era theological crisis. And Hatton gives it weight without over-explaining it.

David: From there, we move into the 1800s, which Hatton calls Portugal’s ‘wretched century.’ It starts with the royal family fleeing to Brazil to avoid Napoleon, and then we get coups, revolutions, a civil war, national bankruptcy—it’s a hot mess. And Hatton makes it both legible and vivid.

David: Then it’s on to the 20th century: the assassination of King Carlos in 1908, the rise and fall of the dictator Salazar, Portugal’s uneasy neutrality during World War II—when Lisbon became a hub of spycraft—and the Carnation Revolution in 1974, which started with a banned song played on the radio.

David: This book absolutely changed the way I see Lisbon. It’s worth reading even if you never plan to go. But if you are going, let me press this into your hands right now. It will give you insight, and context, and delight. It reveals the layers of the city—some of them visible, some of them buried just under your feet.

David: This book is insightful. It’s full of dramatic turns and vivid characters. And most of all, it’s infused with love—for the city, and for its stories. I’ll end with a confession: I didn’t read this book until after I visited Lisbon. And now I have to live with that regret forever. So please—learn from my mistakes.

David: The book is Queen of the Sea: A History of Lisbon by Barry Hatton.

Melissa: My second recommendation is ‘The Night in Lisbon,’ written by Erich Maria Remarque and translated from German by Ralph Manheim. Before I get to the book, a little bit of history:

Melissa: During World War Two, Portugal claimed neutrality. But it continued to trade with both the Allies and Nazi Germany. It became a playground for spies and also attracted war refugees — millions of people, many of them Jewish, desperately hoping to board a ship to the US or the UK.

Melissa: The nearby beach town of Estoril was the more glamorous escape for anyone hoping to ride out the war without too much disruption to their lives. Even while the battles raged in other parts of Europe, the music played, and the drinks flowed at the Hotel Palacio and Casino Estoril.

Melissa: In our episode about hotels from season 4, I talked about the novel ‘Estoril’ by Dejan Tiago-Stankovic. That one tells the story of one remarkable boy among the refugees and rich people hiding out at the Hotel Palacio. It’s sort of ‘A Gentleman in Moscow’ for Portugal.

Melissa: The Hotel Palacio and the nearby casino both make cameos in ‘The Night in Lisbon.’ But the atmosphere is completely different. Instead of sunshine and breezes, this book captures the frantic despair and debauchery that hovered over Lisbon at the start of the war.

Melissa: The author Erich Maria Remarque is best known for his 1928 anti-war novel ‘All Quiet on the Western Front,’ based on his experience in the German army during WWI. In 1933, his book was declared ‘unpatriotic’ and banned by the Nazis. But that didn’t stop him. He continued to write about war and the plight of refugees. In 1962, he published his last complete work, ‘The Night in Lisbon.’

Melissa: This is a quiet book that centers on two main characters, both German refugees who fled to Lisbon in the early days of WWII, hoping to save their lives — and their wives — with passage to America.

Melissa: The plot is pretty simple, although the story is not. During one long night, two men sit in Lisbon’s dimly lit neighborhood bars and talk.

Melissa: Our unnamed narrator is frantic to escape Lisbon with his wife Ruth. They can see salvation in the form of a ship right there at anchor on the Tagus River. He says, ‘The ship was being made ready for a voyage — like the ark in the days of the flood. It WAS an ark. Every ship that left Europe in those months of the year 1942 was an ark. Mount Ararat was America, and the flood waters were rising higher by the day.’

Melissa: But he and his wife have no tickets and no visas. In desperation, he even gambles at the Casino Estoril. ‘I still owned a good suit,’ he says, ‘and they had let me in. It was a last effort to blackmail fate… I had lost fifty-six of the sixty-two dollars we still had left.’

Melissa: But as he gazes at the ship that’s an ark that he can’t board, a man emerges from the shadows. He offers to give our narrator a visa, passport, and two tickets on the ship if he will fulfill a straightforward request: Spend the night with the man and listen to his story. Our narrator learns his would-be benefactor is Josef Schwarz, and he has a tragic tale of a doomed love that took him from Germany to France, Switzerland, a concentration camp, and finally Lisbon.

Melissa: Throughout the night, the men walk the city, building an unusual intimacy, while searching for bars that stay open ‘til the morning. They wander through the Praça do Comercio and past St. George Castle, they listen to fado music, they eat with the urgency of people familiar with hunger, and they steep in the unfairness of their fate.

Melissa: Remarque’s writing is very cinematic; you can see this little eatery so clearly:

The place was a kind of late restaurant with a small dance floor and a terrace, made to order for the tourist trade. Someone was playing a guitar, and in the background a girl was singing a fado. On the terrace several of the tables were occupied by foreigners. There was a woman in evening dress and a man in a white dinner jacket. We found a table at the end of the terrace. You could look down at Lisbon, at the churches in the pale light, the streets, the harbor, the piers, and the ship that was an ark.

Melissa: This is a slim book, but it punches above its weight. Although only a small part of the action takes place in Lisbon, it vividly captures the feel of the city: the lights, the shining streets, the ambient noise of the bars, and the vast stretch of the river to the sea. This book helps you imagine how all of that would have felt in 1942.

Melissa: If you want to go all-in, this book is part of Remarque’s ‘emigre trilogy,’ along with the book ‘Flotsam’ - set in Prague, Vienna, and Spain — and the ‘Arch of Triumph,’ set in Paris.

Melissa: This one is ‘The Night in Lisbon,’ by Erich Maria Remarque.

David: There is a ton of great literature from Portugal—classics, travelogues, mysteries, historical fiction. It’s a country rich with reading options, full of poets and storytellers … all of whom have been quietly shaping world literature for centuries.

David: I was in the middle of browsing my way through all of that when I came across this title. I read the title, read the premise. – I got on the ride, and I never looked back. My book is ‘The Murderer’s Ape.’ It’s by Jakob Wegelius. … And the narrator … is an ape.

David: But not just any ape. Her name is Sally Jones. She’s an intelligent, emotionally perceptive gorilla who also happens to be an outstanding mechanic. She doesn’t speak, but she writes. She uses a typewriter to keep a journal of sorts. It’s a 1908 Underwood No. 5, if you’re into that kind of detail. And while Sally is the only talking—or rather, narrating—animal in the book, the rest of the world around her feels real. There are no other magical elements. It’s just this one, beautiful suspension of disbelief.

David: The book was originally written for children, but don’t let that stop you. I think it’s perfect for any sufficiently whimsical adult.

David: The story is set around 1915. We begin in Lisbon. Sally is working with her best friend, Henry Koskela, whom she calls “the Chief.” Together, they own a small cargo boat called The Hudson Queen. They’re a bit scrappy, a bit freewheeling—sailing from port to port, picking up odd jobs, living a life of adventure. Then, one dark Lisbon night, everything changes.

David: They’re approached by a man named Morro, who offers them a job. It sounds shady, but the money’s good, and they need it. They take it. It goes badly. They return to Lisbon—bruised, shaken—and then they run into Morro again. Down by the docks, late at night. It’s tense. He pulls a gun on them, then thinks better of it and turns to run. The Chief chases him—and this is where everything unravels. The book reads:

Later, during the course of the trial, there were many people who said that the Chief had thrown Morro into the river. Some went so far as to claim that he had struck Morro on the head before throwing him in. But it simply isn’t true! I saw what happened. The Chief caught hold of Morro’s collar to stop him, but Morro lost his balance, tripped over a mooring rope and fell over the edge of the quay. It was an accident, and anyone who says anything different is lying!

David: The Chief is arrested. And the rest of the story follows Sally—alone in the world, unable to speak—navigating human society to solve a mystery and save her friend.

David: Sally’s journey takes her from the back alleys of Lisbon to the palaces of India. The settings are vivid, lovingly drawn, and full of texture. But it’s the characters that shine. Everyone Sally meets has their own story arc. There’s a soulful Fado singer with a past of her own. A fussy accordion repairman I went from disliking to completely loving. A cemetery caretaker who’s afraid of ghosts. It reminded me a little of The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón—there’s that same layered, shadowy sense of place, and that same voice that makes you stop mid-page and wonder, “Wait, this was written for children?”

David: The book is illustrated—beautifully—and I didn’t realize until halfway through that the author, Jakob Wegelius, did those illustrations himself. There are detailed portraits of every major character and dozens of small illustrations scattered throughout the book.

David: Wegelius is a Swedish writer and illustrator. The Murderer’s Ape won Sweden’s August Prize and Germany’s Youth Literature Prize, and it’s easy to see why. The storytelling is gentle but gripping. It’s full of cliffhangers and small heartbreaks. It’s an old-fashioned adventure story in the best sense—filled with steamships, secret letters, and shifting alliances. But it also gives time to themes like friendship, injustice, and the question of where—and with whom—you truly belong.

David: There’s a door into Portugal’s politics at the time. Hatred of foreigners. Corruption. A city at the edge of upheaval. All threaded in just enough to give the story weight. But not so much that it feels forced.

David: If you love Sally as much as I do, there’s a sequel: The False Rose, which picks up with Sally and the Chief and takes them from Lisbon to Glasgow – and then to the Shetland Islands. I haven’t read it yet, and I can’t believe I’m not reading it right now.

David: But The Murderer’s Ape absolutely stands on its own. It’s moving. It’s adventurous. And I really enjoyed my time in Sally Jones’s company.

David: If you’re looking for a book that’s thrilling yet heartfelt, exotic yet comforting—something you’ll want to curl up with, or read out loud to someone special—then this book is exactly what you need. It’s ‘The Murderer’s Ape’ by Jakob Wegelius.

Melissa: My final recommendation is ‘My Lisbon: A Cookbook from Portugal’s City of Light’ by Nuno Mendes, and this might be my favorite book of the bunch. It’s so joyous.

Melissa: It combines everything I usually look for in the novels I recommend: a little history, vivid travelogue descriptions, and good writing. And then it adds amazing recipes and full-color photos to the mix.

Melissa: Let’s talk about the photos first. There are tons of them — and they capture everything I loved about Lisbon: the jumbled buildings that look like they’re tumbling down the hills to the water, yellow trams that squeak through alleys just wide enough for them to fit through, candy-colored mid-century neon signs. Every photo looks like a good story is about to start.

Melissa: Portuguese food is a mashup of local ingredients and the influence of Portugal’s colonies around the world. So there are very hot piri piri peppers from Africa, crunchy fried fritters from Brazil, and spices from India. There’s lots of fish and seafood, thanks to the long coastline, but also acorn-fed pork that’s turned into sausages and cured ham or roasted for delightfully gloppy sandwiches.

Melissa: And cheese! Every region of Portugal produces its own cheese, often from sheep’s milk. We had a cheese board at a restaurant, and each one was delicious in its own way. Some nutty, some mild. But the best was the Quiejo da Serra. It’s a soft, ripe cheese with a rind. Looking at it, you could mistake it for a round of brie, but the flavor is stronger, more pungent, and in the middle, it’s almost a little runny. You have to scoop it out with a spoon, and it’s a spoonful of heaven.

Melissa: The book’s author Nuno Mendes was born and raised in Lisbon. When he was younger, he wanted to be a marine biologist, so he went to Miami — and that’s where he found his calling to be a chef. He traveled the world, eating and cooking, then settled in London, where he opened a string of beloved restaurants.

Melissa: In his intro, Mendes writes, ‘The rhythm of the day revolves around mealtimes, and the recipes in this book are divided into chapters that follow the culinary clock. The day begins with coffee and a pastel (pastry) in the morning, followed a little later by some salgados (salty fried snacks). Then it’s on to almoço (lunch), before tucking into a few petiscos (small plates in the late afternoon). Dinner never really begins until 8:00 and, because we have a sweet tooth, we like to end that meal with sombre mesas (desserts). And let’s not forget our penchant for greedy late-night sandes (sandwiches).’

Melissa: He outlines the rules about snacks, and I am here for that! Salgados are fried finger foods that can be eaten in a few bites. You only get those from late morning until midday, usually standing at a counter with a tiny glass of cold beer (called a lambreta). They’re tasty things like salt cod cakes, pork and beef croquettes, or empanadas filled with wine-braised duck.

Melissa: These are not to be confused with petiscos, which are small plates, meant to be shared. The author says they’re ‘more for the peckish than the ravenous.’ They’re eaten in the mid- to late afternoon, and woe to the person who compares them to Spanish tapas. He writes, ‘We Portuguese like to think that ours are different and, of course, better.’ The petiscos might be a carrot salad with toasted hazelnuts and honey, marinated mushrooms with bacon, or garlic rice with piri piri sauce.

Melissa: There are recipes for all of those things in this book.

Melissa: If you know anything about Portuguese food, you probably already know about the little custard tarts called pasteis de nata. Fear not! If you fall in love with these pastries, there’s a recipe in this book that will help you confidently bake a batch. It’s not too intimidating, really. You press a round of buttery dough into a muffin tin, fill it with a citrus-scented custard, and bake until they’re pleasantly scorched on top.

Melissa: But! This is a reading book as well as a cookbook. The author’s opening essay is a love letter to his home city. After a quick romp through history, he shares his deep affection for Lisbon’s blue-and-white tiles, the black-and-white cobblestones, and the way the sun makes the city glow.

Melissa: Each recipe section also begins with an essay. The intro to pastries is particularly sweet. He explains how convents and monasteries became baking centers and the mischievous nuns who named pastries like Angel’s Double Chins and Nuns’ Bellies. There are also essays about cafe culture, beach life, and a summer festival devoted to grilled sardines. According to lore, on that night in Lisbon, 13 sardines are eaten every second.

Melissa: If you enjoy trying new recipes with a side of cultural stories, this book is for you. And if you’re considering a trip to Portugal, you could easily use this as a guide for the sights, foods, and experiences you don’t want to miss.

Melissa: It’s ‘My Lisbon: A Cookbook from Portugal’s City of Light’ by Nuno Mendes.

David: Those are five books we love, set in Portugal. Visit our show notes at strongsenseofplace.com for links and details. Come to our site and we’ll play you some sweet fado music, tell you how to make your own pastel de nada. Mel tells me it’s not even that hard. And we’ll have a video of walking through Lisbon so you can see what that’s like.

David: Mel, where are we going for our next episode?

Melissa: By request, we’re enjoying the beauty and adventure of America’s National Parks.

David: Thanks for listening, and we’ll talk to you soon.

[cheerful music]

Top image courtesy of João Reguengos/Unsplash.