The light in Lisbon...plus records & palaces

  

I flew to Lisbon and arrived at a 4-storey pink building that was one or two hundred years old. I walked up three flights of wooden stairs with my little suitcases and met my friend João. Right away he took me to a little Bossa Nova concert performed by young men with wavy hair. Afterwards, we met his friend for an astoundingly delicious Lebanese feast. We ate and drank pomegranate juice, while talking about our families, our fathers, and festivals. For dessert we shared an orange blossom crème brûlée before walking home in the moonlight.

The next morning we drove to a quiet beach and met two of João’s friends: Victor, a dapper French man who looks like a young Clark Gable and Mario, a witty Portuguese diplomat with curly hair and a dry sense of humor. Mario recalled meeting me in London years ago and we guessed where until we figured it out. The boys told me about scorpion fish and then we swam in the icy sea. Afterwards, we went to an outdoor café and ate green bean tempura, a Portuguese specialty, as well as fried eggs mixed with potatoes and a local sheep cheese. A tall woman rode past us on a horse, before disappearing into the trees, like a Magritte painting come to life.

On Saturday I woke up early and visited the flea market. I love looking through faded postcards, beloved junk, life-size ceramic dogs, unusual books, and other bizarre treasures. There was a variety of flippers, 90s pornography, and trinkets shining in the morning sunlight. What really caught my attention were the records. First I bought a weathered 1970s compilation for a few euros. Then I saw a hard-to-find record with some excellent breakdance songs on it. 

Suddenly, in the only box protected from the sun, appeared an original 1967 vinyl of my favorite Velvet Underground album. My heart beat faster, examining it carefully. The cover had a peel-off banana designed by Andy Warhol.  I felt like Indiana Jones discovering the grail. I put the record down, thought about it, then wove back through the people, and asked about the small coffee stain on the cover. The seller cleaned it with alcohol and told me he nearly took the record for himself. We chatted about Lou Reed and then I bought it. I floated through the streets, past the pastel houses, looking for an old ice cream parlor.

An accurate picture of me when I'm hungry

THINGS TO DO IN LISBON

-Walk around different neighborhoods in the center and admire the beautiful colorful houses. Remember to pack shoes that are good for cobblestones and steep hills.

-Visit the museums (e.g. Museo do Oriente, CAM).

-Buy presents (beautiful retro packaged Portuguese things) around Chiado at A vida Portuguesa (spices, old school toothpaste, tinned goods), Claus Porto (soaps, candles, and perfumes), and Benamôr 1925 (beautiful creams and bath products).

-Wake up early and wander around the flea market Fiera da Ladra on Saturday then buy a vintage paperback novel at the bookseller market on Ria Anchieta in Chiado (cash only).

-Take a day trip to Sintra and visit the Palacio da Pena or drive to a surfer beach.

-Nightlife: Go party at Lounge or at the nightclub Lux (opens late) or Damas (fun artsy/queer crowd, arrive early-ish to avoid a long line).

WHERE TO EAT

 

-My favorite meal in Lisbon was at Farès – it’s a cozy place with incredible Lebanese food. Order the stuffed sweet potatoes and the orange blossom crème brûlée. Rua de S. Paulo 200.

 

-Enjoy Portuguese food at Faz Frio. It’s open late too. They have private areas for larger tables.

 

-Rua Santos-O-Velho has two fantastic brunch places (Heim and Mila) as well as Yalla, a Middle Eastern restaurant. Mila is also good for people watching and the service is fast.

 

-Eat sorbet at Santini gelateria. I loved the melon flavor and the citrus Santini flavor.

-Try veggie versions of Portuguese classics at the vegan comfort food café Kong

 

-Drink Lisbon’s famous coffee at any classic bar

 

Local creams and a groovy toothpaste

P.S. Come visit but please don’t move here, my Portuguese friends say. Due to the recent explosion of TED-talk tote-carrying tech people and crypto traders moving to the city the rents have tripled, forcing many locals out of their neighborhoods.

P.P.S. I heard these places were fun but didn’t have time to visit them: cocktails at The Red Frog or Pavilhão Chinês, visiting the Palacio Foz. 

For more pictures check out my Instagram: @thefortunyverse .

Summertime Words

 

My discreet summer look.

Have you read all the articles and juicy interviews in my portfolio? Check out my conversations with Jeremy Scott, Kaws, Futura 2000, Massive Attack, KR, Nan Golden, Alec Soth, Alan Aldridge, and many more at margofortuny.com .

Have a great summer!

Barcelona: Where to Eat & Frolic

Flash Flash

I took the train to Barcelona recently. I lived there for a year and a half but this was the best time I had in the crowded seaside city. There were so many great moments...a spontaneous trip to the beach with an enchanting Catalan girl and a beautiful Argentinean, who promptly removed all her clothes as soon as we sat by the water. We swam in the sea and then lounged in our underwear, feeling the sand on our legs and the sun warming our skin. 

Then we visited my friend the artist Monstruo Espagueti. She gave me a portrait she had drawn of me and I brought her guacamole atop homemade tortilla chips with a slice of lime.

That night my friend Vir, a pixie from Buenos Aires, and I visited a friend who was djing at Olgod, a bar that served Beertails. Hold on, they were surprisingly delicious! A beer mojito is just right when your liver is screaming at you for staying out until dawn at Primavera Sound the night before. We walked a few minutes until we came to a small club where an English friend was djing Italodisco. We danced and talked to a fascinating Tango guitarist. Between the loud music and his accent, everything he said sounded like leaves rustling in the wind but somehow I understood what he meant.

The rest of the weekend I poked around record stores, ate vegan schwarma, wandered around the Gothic quarter in the moonlight, and saw as many friends as possible.

In hopes that you'll have an equally exciting time, here's my guide to Barcelona:

The Design Museum

WHERE TO EAT

1. Casa Lolea, in El Borne. A delicious tapas restaurant. Order the melty truffle risotto, the light patatas bravas, and the crispy pan de crystal. Actually, everything here is fantastic. Make a reservation.

2. Bormuth, in El Borne. Another great, and cheap, tapas restaurant, for carnivores and vegetarians. The potatoes "mojo picon" are unforgettable and the fried aubergine with honey is also tasty. To try a Catalan specialty, order the spinach with pine nuts. Try the vermut too - ask for "el siphon" if it's too intense.

3. El Vaso de Oro, in Barceloneta. This is an old school authentic bar with a few tables and sassy waiters. Order fried artichokes and fuet (Catalan sausage) and pâté. There aren't many veggie options. This bar is best for a snack or beers.

4. Sesamo, in Sant Antoni. This is a low-key vegetarian tapas restaurant that's only open for dinner. Try the roast cauliflower dish, the gnocchi with beet and cheese sauce, and the gazpacho. Only open after 7 pm.

5. Sensi Tapas Mezzanine, in Gothic quarter. Open late, good for big groups. Order the truffle ravioli, and the zucchini and goat cheese tempura. They also have a tiny paella if you just want a few bites of the famous dish.

6. Flash Flash, in Eixample/ Gracia. A groovy tortilla restaurant with excellent croquettes. It's the most lively at lunchtime.

7. Can Mano, Jaica, and Bitacora, all close by in Barceloneta. The first two are classic, inexpensive tapas places specializing in seafood and meat dishes. Bitacora is a little neighborhood restaurant that has amazing patatas bravas and a few vegetarian options. Bar Fanny, on the corner, has the same kitchen as Bitacora.

8. Pizza Circus, in Raval. Take-out, cheap and fantastic New York-style pizza by the slice. The one on Nou de la Rambla street is the best.  Another quick, cheap dinner option: Muns empanadas, in Raval and Poblenou. The best empanadas in town.

9. Hummus Barcelona, in Eixample. Try the energizing vegan schwarma with creamy hummus and a hard-boiled egg, especially if you're low on sleep. The best time to go is weekdays for the menu del dia. 

BRUNCH & COFFEE:

10. Caravelle, in Raval. They have the best Eggs Benedict and great coffee. Get there early or there's a long line.

11. Federal, a brunch spot in the Gothic quarter. There's one in Sant Antoni too but the one in Gothic is less crowded. They have a hangover-curing dish called shakshuka, which is delicious.

12. Satan's Coffee Corner, in the Gothic quarter. Excellent coffee, healthy breakfasts.

SWEETS: Gelaaati in Gothic has the most original ice cream, Rocambolesc in Raval has the best soft ice cream with creative toppings like cotton candy, and La Colmena in Gothic has the tastiest meringues. Make sure to get the tall ones in foil. I like chocolate or lemon.

A bar in Poble Sec

WHERE TO DRINK

1. Bar Olimpic, in Raval. This whole street (Joaquin Costa) is filled with bars. Olimpic is small and charming with cheap cocktails.

2. Foxy, in Raval/ Sant Antoni. Fun atmosphere, reasonable cocktails and fresh piña coladas.

3. Bar Marsella, in Raval. Hemingway used to drink at this absinth joint. It's kind of touristy now but still attracts interesting people and you might run into someone you know here. I usually do.

4. Madame Jasmine, in Raval. A hip gay/ mixed bar with outdoor seating.

5. Ølgod , in Raval, craft beer bar with beertails. Brooklyn vibes.

There are lots of bars in Raval, Sant Antoni, Bogatell, and if you want a mellower scene, there's Gracia and Poble Sec. There are plenty of clubs too. The most decadent/ art + disco night is Glove Party.

THINGS TO DO

See Gaudi's fantastical architecture. To visit Gaudi's masterpiece the Sagrada Familia you have to book online in advance. Only go to Park Guell on a sunny day to enjoy the full view. Casa Battlo and La Pedrera are two semi-psychedelic residences located in Eixample. If you're short on time or money just visit the Palau Guell in Raval.

Swim in the Mediterranean. The best beaches are outside the city so hop on a train at Sants or at Arc de Triomf train station (not metro) and get off at Montgat (R1 to Matadero), or if you have more time take the R1 (direction: Blanes) to Sant Pol de Mar, which is 96 minutes away.

Shopping: Pepa Paper has good-looking notebooks (Consell de Cent, 276. Eixample). Regia has fantastic perfumes and colognes (Passeig de Gracia, 39. Eixample) and Farmacia del Palau has less expensive perfumes (Ramblas, 118). Get handmade espadrilles at La Manual Alpargatera (Calle d'Avinyo, 7. Gothic). Buy wine and Espolon tequila (it's not Spanish but it's hard to find in Europe and will enhance your trip) at Vins i licors Vilanova (Placa del Pedro, 7. Raval). Get gifts at Fantastik (Carrer de Joaquin Costa, 62.) La Central has a vast selection of books.

If you like people watching and collecting things check out Palo Alto market (mostly gigs and food) or Lost & Found market (vintage stuff and records).

Art Museums: The CCCB, the Design Museum and Macba are the best.

ADVICE - Barcelona is one of the pickpocket capitals of the world; always keep your hand on your pocket or bag. Leave your passport and valuables where you're staying- just keep a photo of the picture page on your phone. Always keep your iphone out of sight as much as possible; don't leave it on the table at a cafe or talk on it for long late at night. Also, at bars and restaurants keep your bag in your lap not under the table or on a chair. Avoid the smaller streets of Raval after midnight if you're by yourself. Culturally - be aware that locals generally consider themselves part of Cataluña, not part of Spain. This is a hot political issue. If you learn some basic words in Catalan people will appreciate it. Diverteix-te!

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To Wander in Athens

I see him once a year, more if I’m lucky. He meets me at a small hotel near the Acropolis, elegant as always, sporting olive green trousers, a crisp shirt, English suede brogues, and an olive kerchief. His bearded face smiles. He pushes my suitcase into the small, mirrored elevator and I follow him. 

My bag is so heavy it looks like I have bite-marks on my shoulder. Luggage bites. I shouldn’t have brought so many books. Here I am in Athens with my father. I show him the present brought him from Spain: a chunk of manchego cheese. We hear a car stop outside and peer over the balcony. Daisy has arrived.

An hour later we are wandering around the Acropolis. We see a man singing on the street and Daisy stops to talk to him. My father shows us the city with an ice cream cone in one hand. He delights in pointing out the narrow streets, old neon signs, hidden corners, and fashionable bars. We stop in a subterranean spot, The Speakeasy. I order a gin & tonic with white peppercorns and a slice of grapefruit. More drinks, more stories. Dinner follows. We feast at Tzitzikas & Mermingas. After a digestive stroll to the hotel Daisy presents us with chocolates from Fortnum & Mason. My father leaves, manchego in hand.

The next day Daisy and I visit the Acropolis Museum. She marvels at the vertigo-inducing glass floors. We pause in front of a statue of Aphrodite. Her stone face is stained with copper eyelash tears.

I want to visit the Classic Car Museum but there isn’t time. Soon we are on the boat, perusing the 60s pulp paperbacks Daisy brought from London. They are obscene and hilarious. Together we devour the hours.

A QUICK GUIDE TO ATHENS (PART TWO)

Visit The Acropolis, the Acropolis Museum, the classic car museum, and the Benaki Museum.

If you’re exploring the Acropolis, make an evening of it and walk to the fantastic gelateria La Greche, have a cocktail at Speakeasy (address: Lekka 12, Syntagma), then have a bite at Tzitzikas & Mermingas.

According to my Athenian friends here are some fun Athenian areas to walk around in:

Koukaki (artistic, good for nightlife, close to Plaka and the Acropolis.

Mets (hip bars and restaurants. Check out Hotel Chelsea.)

Petralona (cool cafés)

Here are some other semi-secret bars...

There are lots of hipper places to stay but if you want somewhere friendly, basic, and clean, in a convenient neighborhood the Acropolis Select Hotel is good.

You can read about my last trip to Athens here.

The view from the ferry.

Postcards from Hearst Castle

While wandering along Morro Bay I found these old postcards from Hearst Castle, California. Someone should invent glasses that make everything look this colorful...

Get inside the technicolor - just click to enlarge.

The Night is Tender on the Côte d'Azur

They fed us cherries on a baron’s yacht. We lay on the deck in Pucci bikinis before jumping into the sea dangerously close to an island guarded by thousands of pink jellyfish. After dancing all night we threw breakfast parties at our house, featuring hot brioche with vanilla pear jam, scrambled eggs and cocktails by the piano. Witty Swiss chaps joked on the balcony at dawn as a pretty South African nymph sunk into a Madeleine-scented bubble bath with a French Dionysus. In the afternoon, underwear-clad, we read books in the searing sunlight as birds cruised over the palm trees. The air in Cannes was scented with flowers and toast. 

Took the train to Nice, left our luggage at the station. After walking to the old town and exploring the beautiful baroque churches we enjoyed strange gelato at Fenocchio: refreshing tomato and basil flavour, orange blossom, and almond flower. We strolled to the beach and saw a man walk on water. Back by Place de Yves Klein, breakdancers practiced their moves by the contemporary art museum.

Evening tiptoed in and it was time to return to London. I can’t wait to see the rest of the south of France. Send your invitations…

p.s. Here are some pictures of Nice and Cannes around 1900-1925, from Editions Giletta:

 Colour photo (at beginning of post) by Megan MacKay. 2014.

MY FIRST TIME IN CANNES: The Evening Hours

Le Genou de Claire, Eric Rohmer, 1970

Recently I travelled to Cannes, thanks to some wonderful people I work for. We lived in an airy villa near the beach that week. An enchanting photographer named Robyn stayed with us; she spruced the space with white peonies and plates of sliced honeydew melon. The sun, the boardwalks, the palms against the summer sky, the old town with narrow streets leading up to a museum that houses ancient swords edged with pointed animal teeth…it was magical.

One evening a band from London played at our party.  Afterwards my friend Tara and I had a drink (or seven) with them in the Carlton Hotel. Someone kind treated everybody to massive bottles of pink champagne. We told dad jokes and talked about music and then Tara invited everybody back to the yacht she was staying on. We crammed into a car and sped towards the port and tumbled out onto the dock and crept onto the yacht.

“Let’s go swimming!” Three of us headed to the water, and stripped off our clothes. The sun was rising now and the sea enveloped us. We swam out to the rocks and climbed around, slipping and laughing and bruising our shins. “I swear my cock is usually bigger than this. It’s just because it’s cold,” the keyboard player joked. I waved towards the shore, “Come on in!”  The rest waded in and splashed around. Upon returning to the boat an old man hosed us down. It wasn’t clear if it was his yacht or if he was an important person I vaguely worked for.  Who could contemplate such matters on a cloudless morning in France? We drank red wine in our underwear and talked about John Waters’ films. The side of my face stung a bit.  I took another sip of wine. It was already warm out.

A few minutes later it transpired that my friend and the bassist had been stung by jellyfish.  The handsome fellow turned to show us his welted, scarlet bum. “Anyone want to piss on me?”

“I don’t think your missus would like that,” Tara answered, wrapped up in a big towel. The old man appeared, brandishing vinegar and talc to treat the sting.  “Thank you so much, if you ever want to come to one of our gigs, I’ll make sure you’re on the list…” The old man drove us back to our respective dwellings. It was touching how gentlemanly the band was, staying arm’s length from the girls, since they had sweethearts at home.

One afternoon I saw Debbie Harry, one of my heroes, give an interview. She is still the epitome of New York cool, with the grace of Marlene Dietrich. She moved with such finesse. It was thrilling to have her just a few feet away. She even stood up in her Dolce + Gabbana pencil dress and sang “Heart of Glass” a cappella.

Another evening, a friend and I walked into a dark afterparty filled with Canadians. Right away a man came up to me and started chatting. I was pretty blotto so I began arguing with him about what he was wearing.

“What? Girls don’t like this?” he asked, gesturing towards his Quantum Leap blazer and loose trousers.

“Depends what kind of girl you’re looking for.”

“Wait a second…” he unbuttoned the blazer and pulled off the shirt underneath and then unzipped his trousers and stepped out of them – to reveal a completely different outfit underneath. What an impressive move.

“That’s better,” I laughed, and we transferred to the sofa, clutching whisky cokes, and talked for an hour.

Later in the week, after a cocktail party followed by a dreamy Swedish pool party then a stop at the Gutter Bar, some of us meandered home in the moonlight. As we passed a gazebo I scampered over the rail and beckoned everyone to join me. It was perfect weather for dancing around to the songs on my tinny cellphone. After some moves and relaxing in a mint green Mini Moke, we disbanded. Emily and I traipsed home. When we got back to the villa we realized we didn’t have keys to the main house, where she was staying. 

Since I’m quite flexible and fond of scaling things, I whipped off my floor-length 70s dress and started the ascent in my underwear.  As I stood with one foot balancing on a pile of table and chairs, I reached up and grasped the balcony, semi-dangling, wishing I did push-ups occasionally and hoping my boss, who was sleeping near my attempted break-in, wouldn’t wake to this fracas. I was so close! Alas, at this early hour, it wasn’t possible. I dropped down to the courtyard, put the furniture back, and told Emily she could sleep in my bed.

Two afternoons of winning (three) awards was very exciting and motivating.

The last night was the most decadent, but it’s late, so the story shall end here for now.

Meander Milk

I study him. He wears no shirt, just cut-off faded jeans, a white flower behind his ear. A hand-rolled cigarette resides in one hand. His bony frame leans forward to look at a calico cat hopping like a rabbit across a garden. The air is silent and moist. Mopeds sputter periodically. The sky darkens, the ocean joins it, and the moon finds a place in the folds of blue. With salted hair and feverish eyes and burnt shoulders and moles polka-dotting his back he is the most astounding creature I have ever seen. I won’t let him know, he wouldn’t believe me anyway. So I look away and ask him what we should do about dinner.

After dinner we share a bottle of the second-cheapest whiskey we can find. Bantering, hopeful, we sit on the whitewashed stairs and observe people trotting by. Goat roasts somewhere and cigarettes are smoked. The beach extends itself into my mind. We hasten.

      The sun rises revealing a beach full of people intertwined. Kicked off sandals sleep next to green beer bottles in the sand. The waves seem hesitant in their approach. Everyone is silenced by immense concentration. We look at each other, aware of our ongoing solitudes. He shrugs. We walk to a bus stop. Kissless times last longer.