Storms along the Tagus…

Lisbon’s position at the mouth of the Tagus exposes it to the vagaries of Atlantic Ocean weather that last night and all today materialized as gale force winds and pelting rain.

We really cannot complain as we’ve enjoyed mostly sunny days and mild temperatures – and we gloat when we see on the Internet that there are freezing temps and snow at home.

From our airy height, snuggled under the ramparts of the Castelo Sao Jorge, one can watch the storms approach: long grey lines of rain snaking over the wide river estuary that whip up white caps and blot out the opposite shore.

Fortunately our rental apartment is centrally heated and we have barely ventured out, even skipping the once-weekly flea market at the campo Santa Clara. (A prodigious sacrifice as anyone who knows us will readily discern.)

Even Arcadio – he who hates rain and getting his fur damp - darted quickly back inside at the very start of his morning walk. Then he ensconced himself on the comfy end of a long sofa where he has remained all day.

Good for us that we have taken in so many sights before today: palaces, museums, art galleries, and the like. But a few nights ago, perhaps most fun of all was being snatched off one of the narrow streets of the old Moorish Alfama district and whisked inside a tiny restaurant.

Our kidnapper was a jolly heavy-set woman who cajoled us pleasantly into eating a traditional fish dinner while being serenaded by two guitar players and no less than three Fado singers, including herself. (Lucinda Gouveia.)

Fado is the haunting Portuguese musical genre that expresses saudade, or longing and sorrow, that has been sung by women as well as men in back-street cafes and bars for over 150 years – the only difference being that women singers, Fadista, must always cover their shoulders with a black shawl.

So at the Fonte da Maria we had a marvelous floorshow, all to ourselves – and we bought the lady’s CD to recall it by.