My Random European Memories

As you may remember, Ryan and I have actually been home from Europe for over a month. These posts were written on the road in my journal, but posted upon my return. Now that the stories from our adventure have come to a close (well, I didn’t tell you about our last day in Brussels when I got sick and had to eat powdered tomato soup, but some details do not need to be shared.), I’m taking a moment to reflect on our experiences. Though I could go on for hours reminiscing about the beautiful time we had on this trip, I’ll spare you and list the top five (my favorite number) memories/ thoughts that jump into my mind:

1. The Portuguese love their port. They are very proud of their port. But they don’t drink it as often as I would have thought. In simple work-a-day restaurants the Portuguese clientele drink beer or table wine with their meals and an espresso afterwards. If they do have a digestive, port is just one choice on the menu. Regional brandies were also very popular. While they are very proud port makers, they let the rest of the world do a lot of the drinking.

2. You don’t know the true meaning of life (or the meaning of a proper hangover) until you’ve gotten drunk with close friends and family on Belgian beer in Brussels .

3. Europeans care about the environment. Ryan and I enjoyed a lovely drink with friends over candle light one night in Brussels – not because the restaurant wanted to create a romantic ambience, but rather because all the lights were switched off in solidarity with other businesses in the city for the environment. They were making a point that we don’t need to use as much energy as we think. We stayed longer because the mood among the happy drinkers was so very charming in candle light.

4. I like octopus. Chop it up. Steam it. Drizzle with fine olive oil, salt, and lemon juice. Done. Yum (once you get over the sensation of chewing on little suckers)!

5. You really don’t know the true meaning of life until you’ve drunk white port from 1954 served from a Frenchman in his port bar in Porto , Portugal .

I said it then, and I’ll say it now. If I could, I would dye my hair black and become Portuguese. Not because I don’t love my home country or my blond hair, but because that country really is that beautiful. I guess that the next best thing is to bring home some of our amazing finds to share!