I packed my backpack this morning like I have done nearly every day since I left for Spain on June 26. But some things are different now. My walking poles are folded up and attached to my backpack, and so is my old floppy hat. My arm sleeves, gloves, and headband, symbolizing the heat and excessive sunshine I encountered, are no longer in the oversized pockets of my hiking pants.
But I still look like a hiker. In the street, a couple with Santiago shells attached to their backpacks acknowledge my pilgrim look with a mumbled "Buen Camino."
My looks, and last month's journey in the heat and dust of Spain, make me feel out of place when I enter Porto's famous Majestic Cafe. In his classic white and black attire, the waiter at the door doesn't show any sign of surprise or disapproval and kindly shows me a place at one of the marble tables.
The cafe is indeed Majestic. The glamorous cultural elite from Paris was a reference for Portuguese culture in the early 1920s when it opened its doors. I feel the charm of "La Belle Époque" when I step in.
The cafe quickly became a favorite of Porto's most significant personalities, who gave it the literary standing to nurture lively debates between public figures on the most pressing political, social, and philosophical topics of the day.
I had stopped for a moment before entering; I took the time to examine the spectacular marble facade with its exquisite floral features and flowing curves.
Inside, the curved symmetry of the hardwood frames and the ornamental decorations are distinctly Art Nouveau. The walls are covered with big mirrors showing signs of aging and house a few lamps with intricate metalwork, providing the deceptive illusion that this space is more extensive than it actually is.
Plaster sculptures of human faces, naked figures, and flowers confirm the wavy sensual style. I sit on the side, on one of the two rows of leather seats, replacing the original red velvet ones. These benches on the side create a cozy and elegant perspective of depth.
The Camino feels far away. I remember from last year how I needed time to adjust to a post-Camino lifestyle of normality. I achieved that last year during a few days in Madrid, where I submerged myself in an overdose of art, from Goya to Alex Katz, days that I never wrote about in this newsletter. (Let me know if you are still interested. Maybe it is something for me to pick up on a cold winter day when back in Canada; a "memories project," perhaps? There is so much more beauty I never shared; the Vermeer exhibition I visited in June in Amsterdam comes to mind, or walks I made last year in the Netherlands).
This time, I locate the Camino detox at two moments: sitting on the rocks on the edge of the Ocean near Muxía, watching the waves crashing on the shoreline, and then there is this second moment of sitting in restored elegance with low jazz tones on the background. The Camino feels far away now.
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That café looks like it has some stories to tell too. It's gorgeous and all that attention to detail. Not just the café's interior, but also yours in writing and taking pictures. Thanks for sharing. I'd have felt completely out of place there - I'm sure. Posh places and my small town upbringing don't mix well.
Totally still interested in your overdose of art from last year & Vermeer. And walks in the Netherlands - yes, please. A friend from IG took me on a walk in the Hoge Veluwe last year. She had mapped out a route for us. I was amazed at how sandy it was when we were nowhere near the sea. Also, it was not nearly as flat as I'd pictured it. I'd love to read more about walking in the Netherlands.
Simply elegant, this charming cafe and the writing.
Farewell, Camino.
New adventures and the world await. Enjoy it all.