Corkage
It may as well be word of the year, at least I had never heard of it before. Of all places it’s right here in Porto, Portugal (land of cork, more on that later) that I first hear this (wonderful) word. We are tabled in a vegan restaurant, right on the route of the “Camino Portuguesa” and yet in the heart of town. Two hundred meters away is an ‘Albergue’ where hikers walking the Portuguese Camino to Santiago find a bed and shelter. So, our German host is used to exotic company. But my South African companion is pushing it a bit.
Two hours before, I organized a small padel tournament with ten people. As seemingly gregarious character I gave him a bottle of wine afterwards, courtesy of my lodging hosts. As soon as we’re done playing, he keeps talking away about the Christian faith. First to an Egyptian fellow and, when no one was left, to just me. As we’re approaching the fifth subway stop, I’m thinking I’m able to shake him off at last. Quite the contrary happens as he invites himself out to dinner. He is a young chap of 27 with a bright mind who — exactly why I don’t find out — converted to the Christian faith years ago. And has apparently made it his goal — the missionary side — to spread it as much as he can. Every time I — as a convinced atheist — highlight a different perspective he cuts me off, fearful of information that contradicts his beliefs. The only reason I haven’t walked away yet is that fortunately we can talk about South Africa too, a country I have fond memories of. And about which — of course — he talks endlessly about too.
Having just been seated at the restaurant, he places the bottle of wine pontifically on the table and asks the host to uncork it and bring two glasses. He doesn’t wish to see the menu; he simply asks to bring two random dishes. Once before, I sat at the table with diehard Christians — a German couple in Jerusalem — and then too, it felt awkward. Tonight, however, our host remains polite and brings some delicious dishes from the kitchen. This time no vegan “Francesinha,” the plant-based alternative of the extremely high-calorie Portuguese counterpart to the French Croque-Monsieur. Once we settle the bill at the bar, we see our German host browsing through digital 17th-century documents on his laptop. He says he’s uncovering his family tree and church archives are the only sources available. We are at last presented with a hefty bill. At the top is the “corkage” fee: 50% of a 15-euro bottle. A novelty, not very common in Europe to bring your own bottle of wine to a restaurant.
Turn on Portuguese television and you are for 90% inundated with politics and soccer. Soccer dominates daily life, it’s the number 1, 2 and 3 sport in the country. Perhaps an escape out of the daily existence of the poorest country in Western Europe. Admittedly, there is renewed self-confidence after Portugal finally awoke and shook off 40 years of the iron fist rule of the dictatorial Salazar regime. There is a renewed élan as Portugal in 10–20 years has become a top destination for tourists, digital nomads and émigrés who turn a shack in the countryside into a luxury guesthouse. All attracted by a moderate climate, Mediterranean cuisine, affordable prices and hospitable people.
Meanwhile Portuguese people themselves are being pushed out of the city centre in Lisbon and Porto as foreigners are paying loads of money for entire building blocks and a night in a bed and breakfast. Monthly rents for a small studio surge above €1,000 a month whereas the average income of a Portuguese is nowhere close to that. A lot of new money is pouring into the country and trickles down into the real economy through bakeries, coffee shops and restaurants. Thus, almost everyone benefits. It’s not the ideal world but it could always be worse, referring to the days of the Salazar regime. Despite its reinvented, hip image, Portugal is not an economic powerhouse like Sweden or the Netherlands. It is no longer the country that possessed global leadership (The Age of Discovery) with pioneers such as Vasco da Gama and Magallanes. The pace of life is slower. No one is in a hurry (which is nice sometimes). There is less money being pumped around compared to Northern Europe. Wages are low, jobs not up for grabs. Many young, bright Portuguese moved abroad after the last economic crisis in 2010 and stayed. There is (virtually) no incentive to return.
When it comes to being creative with cork, Portugal is clear world leader, though. The country produces and exports over 60% of the world’s cork. This soft tree bark can be found in all sorts of home, garden and kitchen applications. It retains heat, is acoustic and, of course, environmentally friendly. The trees remain standing, only the bark is harvested every nine years.
Porto, a European mid-sized city, has undergone a true metamorphosis in just a decade. Once a grim, shady town where homeless and methadone addicts lived in porches, now an upscale city centre flooded with tourists every weekend. Thousands of expats (a catch-all term for digital nomads, remote workers and everything in between) from all over the world have now settled here. Among them many Ukrainians, Russians and as many as a million Brazilians! It chafes between the stern Portuguese and jolly Brazilians. It’s about jobs, adjusting and manners. For Brazilians, Portugal is above all safe and — often — a stepping stone for the rest of Europe.
In port city Porto the money is made, in capital Lisbon it is proverbially spent. Porto is like Rotterdam or Antwerp versus Lisbon like Amsterdam and Brussels. A healthy rivalry, envy and sometimes dislike. As a soccer team, you know Porto away is going to be a tough night. It is a team that almost never plays attractive but is very tenacious and tough to beat. It is a club whose president has been at the helm for over forty years. The amount of (international) trophies speaks for itself. The pride and fanaticism manifest themselves on an evening among Porto supporters in a swirling Estádio do Dragão.
The city is easily walkable and, thanks to its size, you easily bump into someone you know. It is also a city where you find yourself in newly opened restaurant, overjoyed as they are with their first clientele. Fresh from the paint and started by a Peruvian and Colombian. Who have found their home here and are now cooking mushroom hamburgers. With a Latin American finish to it. And where you spend the rest of the evening chatting away with the couple and two Brazilian guests. The city continues to surprise. Although that applies in a negative way to the top two local annoyances. Namely, the dog poop that people leave behind — literally in their streets and on their doorsteps — as well as double parking on busy streets! Even for a small errand, the car is quietly double-parked for twenty minutes — on a busy street. The lack of parking garages at supermarkets leads to chaotic scenes every day.
Meanwhile, moving house every week has been quite enough. Each neighbourhood has its own charm but you’re like a modern-day tramp. Porto’s only red-light district is just a small street, but that is exactly where they patch up houses and accommodate tourists. I have to use some body language to make it clear to the ladies who are literally posting at (my) doorstep that I do not wish to use their services. It is a gross, noisy street with drunks. Temporary accommodations you pay fully in advance for and (partial) cancellations — for financial reasons — are not accepted. The studio is fine otherwise and the only option is to make the most of it.
To finish off with new words. What is someone called who assembles wooden (wine) barrels is the question during the fortnightly pub quiz. Only one team — not us — knows the correct answer, namely a “Cooper” as befits a typical British surname. It is about time to move further into the Douro wine valley, take the first steps into the sparsely populated hinterland of northern Portugal and perhaps take a peek into at the rugged northwest of Spain (autonomous community of Galicia).
