After a busy day at the faculty, I could have chosen a worse places to wind down, than the historic setting of A Brasileira do Chiado, one of Lisbon’s oldest coffee houses.
Adraino Telles do Valle, a Portuguese merchant, who had married into a Brazilian coffee planter dynasty at the end of the 19th century, had established this place to both introduce this until then unknown and unappreciated drink to the city’s society, as well as to provide a place to meet and to mingle for academics, philosophers, students, artists, writers and especially for journalists, which he admired.
Passing through the richly decorated front door at Rua Garrett 120/122, the first thing I noticed on my right, was a newspaper stand displaying a number of Portuguese magazines – a rare sight these days, but always a good indicator for a café where you can enjoy a cup of coffee and a read without feeling rushed.
My view then travelled along a counter of dark wood with functional brass fittings, displaying a nice selection of pastries. From the high ceiling, three chandeliers were suspended, which together with the indirect lighting along the walls, illuminated a number of large paintings that were on subtle display above the eye level of the spectator.
As it was already late, I had no problem finding a small table near one of the display cabinets at the rear end of the room.
After ordering the obligatory combination of a Pastel de Nata and a Bica – an espresso, which I preferred to drink the traditional way: with a bit of sugar – I turned to a volume of Portuguese poetry, which provided a fitting counterpoint to the scores of tables and bland scientific data that had occupied me throughout the day.
Immersing myself into a few lines by Fernando Pessoa, who himself had been a regular visitor of this place, it read:
Uns, com os olhos postos no passado,
Vêem o que não vêem; outros, fitos
Os mesmos olhos no futuro, vêem
O que não pode ver-se.
With one eye on the past,
some see what they cannot see,
whilst others, with one in the future see
what can not be seen.
I ordered another Bica….
Pessoa had written these words under the pseudonym of Ricardo Reis, one of his over seventy (!) heteronyms or alter egos.
It carried on with:
Porque tão longe ir pôr o que está perto –
O dia real que vemos? No mesmo hausto
Em que vivemos, morreremos. Colhe
O dia, quoque és ele.
Why go so far for what is so near –
The actual day that we can see? In a single breath
We live and die. So seize the day,
for the day is what you are.
How true I thought …..
All too soon the café was closing and when leaving the place, I was passing a statue of the great man, who was sitting among the outside tables in quiet contemplation – like his poems – for us to enjoy into eternity.
The Blue Vet Diary 