Portugal, Week 5: Dinner at João’s

Vegan bifanas and a crash course in communism.

On Sunday night, I got my first real Portuguese history lesson.

I first met João off a Facebook post I’d sent, reaching out to meet people in Porto. I was relieved to hear from him as he’s Portuguese and most of the folks I’ve met with, delightful as they’ve been, are expats. So we met for coffee, and after, he said we’d get together again sometime. 

Real quick, I’d like to drop a quick note on flakiness. 

I’ve had to explain this term to a few people over here. If you’re from the US, you already know, but if not: A flake is essentially someone unreliable — quick to cancel plans or just not show up at all.

Maybe it’s the weather, or maybe it’s from the water, but New York is full of flakes. Cancellations are rampant, as is ghosting. Take this recent example from a friend:

“So I went to this event and I met this guy and man, we hit it off. I even came home and told my partner all about it. I was sure we were gonna hang out. We exchanged numbers after the event. I mean, we talked for like four hours. But when I texted him, nothing. Zilch. Dude completely ghosted me.”

This is common in New York, and I feel it’s the opposite here.

Call it the warmth, the spirit, the Latin or African influence, who knows, but the Portuguese have been ultra-reliable (except when it comes to timing — for that, they operate on something else entirely). I’ve noticed that when a Portuguese person has said something, it’s said in earnest. So when João texted me days later inviting me for dinner at his place with “his PBFFs” (Portuguese Best Friends Forever), I knew it was legit. 

João’s a personal trainer here. He lived in Spain for many years, working out of their hotels until finally setting off on his own. He’s got a beautiful apartment here in Porto with a full garden and two terraces. It was my first Portuguese apartment — and in that, my first Portuguese kitchen — and the first thing I noticed was the plethora of glasses. Drinks are important here — as one friend said, “They’re part of the food” — and João’s kitchen reflected this: You had port glasses, wine glasses, beer glasses, water glasses, and then of course your assortment of espresso cups (all of these would be used later on).

The dinner itself was fabulous. João’s vegan, one of three I’ve met in Porto. He made us vegan bifanas (typically a saucy pork sandwich on a bun — yet he substituted seitan), which everyone downed. It was fantastic. He had his four friends over. We arrived at 5:30pm and the conversation flowed until well past 10. 

One of the guests was Antonio, a sociologist and one of the most patient and articulate people I’ve had the pleasure of speaking politics with.

“I am fascinated with the US,” he said. “At this point, with the chaos and polarization, I cannot believe it hasn’t collapsed. I’m just amazed by how resilient it is.”

Antonio is both communist and vegan. Now, I’ve never met a card-carrying communist before. I’ve just heard about them on TV, or met “communist curious”. In the US, they’re just as banned as DDT. And so I asked if I could ask about it. 

(Note. I have not fact checked any of the below. This is simply a recapturing of a conversation). 

Communism FAQ

“With communism, I’ve heard it does not lead to innovation. What do you think?”

“This is a complete myth,” he said. “Look at Soviet Russia. They sent a man to the moon faster than anyone, all within a communist economy. They industrialized far faster than the US did. So that is not true.” 

“Capitalism is not innovative,” he continued. “It’s made to ascend rapidly and then stagnate. Maintain. Look at the US. Where is the innovation? You shot up, and then it’s just maintained.”

“When everything is shared, how would you keep people from taking advantage of the system?”

“Again, a lie. The welfare state was created in the US after World War Two. Why? The country was in ruins. People were jumping off skyscrapers. They were climbing walls to get jobs. The system wasn’t working. They were looking over to communist countries and asking, why couldn’t they have something like that? Unions, guaranteed wages, etc. And so what’d Roosevelt do? He gave them a taste of it. Just enough to keep them quiet. It shows that it’s something the middle class craves.”

“I find it so fascinating how other countries can be so cognizant of the US and our politics, etc., yet we know so little about yours.”

(not really a question, I know).

“This is completely excusable. Why? You are the world hegemon. We are all under your umbrella. We live under your culture, and essentially, your politics.” 

“I do this as a thought experiment,” he continued. “My son now celebrates Halloween in school. He never did that in the past, because that was never part of our culture. He does it because it’s a US thing, and it’s in all the movies and whatnot. So now it’s been adopted. But what if they started doing something that originated in China? Or Russia? My god,” he said. “There would be a meltdown.”

He ended by sharing there’s a music festival happening in early September in southern Portugal, all ran by communists. It’s very affordable to enter (of course), and I would really enjoy it. (“If the US learned I attended,” I joked, “they wouldn’t let me back in”).

What I really enjoyed about this conversation, though: Antonio was never upset, defensive, or controlling. He got a little fired up, but I think it was more out of frustration than anything, from responding to the common tropes about communism that he’s used to hearing. But he never initiated any of the conversation, nor tried to convince me of anything. He simply answered my questions.

While we were on the subject, I wanted to ask about Portugal’s dictatorship.

Since I arrived here, it’s something that’s been alluded to, yet no one’s really gone into it (for example, someone said it’s uncommon for strangers to say hello or smile on the street, a byproduct of living under a dictator; or when a friend asked me to guess the divorce rate (spoiler: it’s 92% (!)), he prefaced to keep in mind that ‘we’re only 50 years removed from living under a dictatorship).

Fortunately, my new friends were happy to share.

Here’s how I understand it: 

For over 900 years, Portugal was ruled by a king. The monarchy, though, wasn’t really working for everyone, and one day the king was shot. This marked the end of the monarchy. Poof. They appointed a man to run the new government, his name was Antonio Salazar. He was a sharp young economist, and they were intrigued by his acumen. He was also “a strong man.” “In times of crisis,” Antonio said, “the people want a leader who appears strong.”

This is when things get hairy. It only took a few years for things to descend into rampant nationalism. His slogan was to isolate Portugal from the world, to “make things great again.” He controlled the military. Free speech started to get reeled in. Propaganda flowed. 

Salazar ruled for over 50 years until eventually the revolution took place on April 25, 1974, a military coup. It was one of the most peaceful revolutions, Antonio said, the main violence coming from the national police toward protestors. A new government was instated, and 50 years later, here we are — free of the dictator, yet still feeling its after-effects (in many, many graffiti spots around town, you will see ‘25 Abril’ sprayed on walls).

Our dinner ended just as the revolution did — pretty peacefully. João busted out the digestivos, and aguardente (moonshine) once again coursed through my blood, dislodging and burning everything that stood in its way, bulldozing through my intestinal tract.

Joao packed me a bag of tomatoes from his garden, then gave a warm hug goodbye and said we’d get lunch sometime.

And I knew he meant it.