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| piri piri chicken + potatoes + tomato salad |
My favorite part of our trip to
Portugal is that it was almost accidental. Like we have done almost every summer, in the spring we began looking for a house to rent on one fork or another of Long Island because
it us. Frustrated by prices and lack of appealing inventory ("which kid should stay in the dark basement bedroom where we won't hear their screams?" is definitely the conversation every parent wants to have before forking over more than a month's rent for the honor) our friends confessed that they couldn't stop thinking about going somewhere like Spain and Portugal, where we could rent a villa for significantly less money and, you know, go see another part of the world. I said yes. My husband said "but 8 hours on a plane with a baby!" and "she's going to burst into flames on a beach!" (referring to me passing on my unfortunate pallor to our
youngest) and then I starting getting all insufferably philosophical about how this is our life and we have two kids and we either learn how to take big vacations with them or we're never going to see all the places we want to see in our lifetime ... and then I said "you can totally blame me if this is terrible." And somehow that did the trick. Let me know when you want me to write that marital advice book, okay?
We regret nothing and I'd be lying if I didn't say that the fact I didn't make dinner once wasn't part of the charm. We'd manage breakfast and lunch at home but found the restaurants to be very kid-friendly, almost all having an official or unofficial children's menu.* Plus, there was a natural kindness and patience with children that is less the norm here -- you know when you're waiting for the check and everyone is tired and your kid is about to scream their head off on your shoulder and then they start giggling because a stranger behind you is making faces at them? That was every day.
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