| WAYFARER | |||||
| Lisbon is a small but charming city with many reminders of its glorious past, says Brinda Suri | |||||
As I stepped out of Lisbon’s stunning Gare do Oriente station — a must-visit for its outstanding contemporary design — I was confronted by a familiar name up in bright and bold neon-lit letters. The ultra-modern shopping mall across the street was called the Centro Vasco da Gama. It was a name we’ve all studied about in our history books. Once you’ve reached Lisbon, it doesn’t take long to figure out that da Gama is one of the most revered sons of this tiny nation. He’s recognised for single-handedly turning it into a naval power, enabling Portugal to rule the seas and colonise distant lands. Discovering the sea-route to India in 1498 AD was his biggest achievement, and the reason that Portugal hailed him as a hero, and continues to do so. Lisbon sprawls along the banks of the River Tagus, which drains into the Atlantic Ocean a few miles away. Its location served as the perfect staging point for travels to the east and enabled the country’s seafaring voyages. And it was from Belém — now the country’s most-visited historical district — from where voyagers like da Gama set sail. I began my rendezvous with Lisbon, or Lisboa as the Portuguese call it, at Belém. Amongst its landmarks is an iconic trio of 16th century edifices in characteristic limestone and designed in the Manueline style — a distinctively Portuguese version of late-Gothic architecture. There’s Torre de Belém or Belém Tower, standing serenely on the shores of the River Tagus. It provides a beautiful view of the city’s skyline and the April 25th Bridge **. The Belém Tower was once the last sight of homeland for sailors. Across the road is Belém’s splendid Mosteiro dos Jerónimos or Jerónimos Monastery, which has all the grandeur of a royal palace. The Portuguese are proud of the Manueline legacy and the monastery is said to be the best-preserved example of it. I loved the rounded arches, floral motifs and stones shaped to resemble twisted ropes. It’s here that da Gama spent the night before sailing for India. The existing expansive structure, however, was built to commemorate his successful return. Completing the trio of the spectacular structures at Belém is the adjacent Church of Santa Maria. It’s an ornate place of worship and also has tombs of royalty. There are only two commoners buried here — one is, of course, da Gama. The other is the distinguished Portuguese poet Luis de Camões. Even as I was admiring these iconic landmarks, I was drawn to an interesting-looking construction close to the Belém Tower. From a distance it looked like a ship’s prow on the edge of River Tagus. Indeed, the Padrã dos Descobrimentos or Monument to the Discoveries has been designed to look like that and is dedicated to the ‘Age of Discovery’ (15th to 16th century) when Portugal’s explorers brought glory to their homeland. A trip to Belém remains incomplete without stopping at Pastéis de Belém, the legendarypâtisserie next door to the monastery. For over a century, it has been serving Lisbon’s best egg-custard pastry with a sprinkling of pounded sugar and cinnamon powder. It’s a buzzing eatery and the fact the recipe is still a closely-guarded secret adds an extra flavour to the treat. Lisbon is a famously laidback city that comes across as being slightly different from other European metropolises. It’s a montage of pleasing contrasts with ornate palaces, museums, majestic churches and a Downtown with open-air cafés and swanky fashion stores. There are also delightful residential pockets with balconies awash with bright colours or dressed in Moorish blue tiles. Portugal was once under Roman rule and there are distinct Moorish influences from the time the Moors dominated the Iberian Plateau between 711 AD and 1492 AD. Lisbon’s well-connected public transport system makes it easy to explore the city. I hopped in and out of the trams and suddenly stumbled upon a heritage gem — the Number 28 wooden tram that goes up the steep hill to Alfama district. I was rewarded with panoramic views of Lisbon at sunset. I wrapped up my Lisboa experience with a traditional meal and port wine at Senhor Vinho, the city’s most authentic and stylish Fado (it’s a type of traditional Portuguese music) restaurant, owned by the country’s top Fado performer, Maria da Fé. It was an an indulgence, but well worth it.
READY RECKONER Getting there: There are no direct flights from Calcutta to Lisbon. You’ll have to change flights in Delhi or Mumbai and London. For train bookings from other European cities, visit www.eurailtravel.com. Staying there: Hotel Olissippo Marques de Sa is a good option. Go to www.hotelolissippomarquesdesa.com. Photographs by author **Correction made in blog text Published Sept 17, 2011 in The Telegraph, Calcutta |
Showing posts with label Portugal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Portugal. Show all posts
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Lisbon: Memories of another era
Friday, August 26, 2011
Discovery of India in Lisbon
 |
| Monument to the discoveries, Lisbon |
I'm at a restaurant in Porto, the city that's given Port wine its name, and I see an order of potato fingers whizz past my table. Despite that irksome word calorie attached to it, it's such comfort food and, a la Jughead, I'm tempted to follow its aroma. Instead I settle for the next best option of hailing the waiter and trying to explain what I want. After a few minutes, the eureka! moment happens. “Ah! Batata,” he says. I nod, slightly stunned. In a country where language is a barrier, I didn't know ordering a plate of chips was as simple as mouthing a term used in my own country. Who in west, or east India hasn't heard of batata vada, batata sev and the likes? Over the next couple of days I come across quite a few Portuguese loan words found in our regional languages: sabonete (soap), almiro (almirah), camara(room), chave (key), balde (bucket), toalha (towel), ananas (pineapple) and pao (bread).
WHAT'S IN A NAME?
Names in South India are known for their record length but, as I saw it, Portuguese ones can easily give them a run for their money. I happened to glance at a cab driver's identity card and it read: Nuno Jose Da Silva Machado Garcia Vilela. How do people address him, I asked. “They call me Nuno,” he smiled, adding, “My original name is longer!” Six-seven deck names were pretty common. So when our guide used the phonetic alphabet to spell the name of a posh area adjoining Lisbon's splendid UNESCO site, Jeronimos Monastery (where Vasco da Gama prayed before departing for India in 1497 AD), a colleague noted it as: Richard Edward Simon Thames Edward Lima Othello. But all that the beleaguered guide had meant to say was, Restelo!
TASTE OF INDIA
There's something very reassuring about home flavours. We had toured the Iberian Peninsula for about a week, and though we had been treated to outstanding cuisine, the taste buds longed for dal-chawal-roti. Very accommodatingly, our guide cancelled a prior booking and led us to a place local Portuguese recommended — India Gate, in Downtown Lisbon, one among the nearly 100 Indian restaurants here. No sooner had our group made itself comfortable than we had owner Hemant — who arrived here from Jamnagar six years ago to marry his ‘Internet lady love', a Gujarati settled in Portugal — scurrying around with our requirements. Oh! We felt quite at home placing the order in Hindi and then digging deep into an absolutely scrumptious fare, including baingan bartha, moong dal,raita, saag-paneer, a variety of non-veg besides aromatic basmati, crisp naan, and a host of accompaniments from papad, aachar, pyaz to namak. I requested a meeting with the chef, who turned out to be Vijeesh from Thrissur. I complimented the South Indian on preparing excellent North Indian food, and he beamed saying it was a team effort. His squad included a Nepali and two Punjabis: Baljit from Jalandhar and Mumtaz from Lahore, Pakistan.
ROOSTER CALLS
The Galo de Barcelos or the Barcelos Rooster is the national symbol of Portugal.
As legend goes, an accused sentenced to death in the town of Barcelos, celebrated for its pottery, appealed for reversal of judgement one last time before the Judge, who was attending a banquet. The Judge asked him to prove his innocence. The man desperately looked around and, on seeing a platter of steaming hot fowl carried by a waiter, prayed aloud to the Lord to prove his innocence by making the rooster crow. It's believed the cooked fowl got up and crowed loudly. The amazed Judge pronounced his verdict: ‘Never sit on judgment of a fellow man, and let the rooster be a reminder of that for generations to come'.
To this day it remains an emblem of honesty and is meant to bring good luck. I saw the rooster splashed across all sorts of souvenirs, perched on doorways or preening in lovely gardens. Though nowadays available in assorted material and colours, it's traditionally made out of clay, painted black, and decorated with white, green, yellow and blue polka dots.
A STRONG BOND
During World War II, Portugal was neutral territory and Lisbon quickly turned into a rendezvous zone for spies, chiefly because of its strategic Atlantic connections. Many a spy novel was set in and around the capital city and tourist agencies use that feature to their advantage by conducting special walking tours through spy routes. The most famous spy, though, to have set foot on Portugal is a certain James Bond. And Cascais, the cheerful town by the Atlantic Ocean, all of 30 minutes by train from Lisbon, flaunts the Bond connection via the flick On Her Majesty's Secret Service (1969), which was shot here and in the neighbouring casino town of Estoril.
While browsing Cascais's prettily-cobbled shopping street, I chanced upon a poster of Bond. “No one's been able to replace him,” I jokingly asked the Portuguese sales assistant. “None. They have all been merely 003.5,” he winked.
NO SOUR GRAPES
It seems a borrowed tradition from neighbour Spain but the Portuguese believe in it resolutely. It's the custom to eat 12 grapes on New Year's Eve as the clock strikes midnight. As a ritual, people are tuned to the town's clock tower and munch a grape with every chime. This is supposed to fulfil wishes and bring luck. I was told hardly anyone can finish all 12 in time and Lady Luck continues to act fickle. When I saw the lovely, big-sized grapes in the market, I realised why.
OF PASTRY AND MONASTERY
You can't have visited Lisbon and not savoured Pasteis de Belem, an egg custard-filled sweet puff pastry with a sprinkling of cinnamon and castor sugar. Not only will that amount to sacrilege, it's an epicurean loss too.
A legend in its own right, it was first prepared around the 1820s at the Jeronimos Monastery as a means of livelihood for nuns and monks. Since 1837, Antiga Confeitaria de Belem, adjoining the monastery, acquired the right to use its name. It bakes it by the hundreds every day and the recipe remains top secret.
The patisserie was typically packed when I visited. Every table had the same order, and when mine arrived, as I bit into its softly-crisp pastry and creamy filling I realised why locals said, “a dozen never reach home intact”! It is its sweet nostalgia that makes it so endearing.
(This article was published in The Hindu Business Line, on August 25, 2011)
www.thehindubusinessline.com/features/life/article2396898.ece
WHAT'S IN A NAME?
Names in South India are known for their record length but, as I saw it, Portuguese ones can easily give them a run for their money. I happened to glance at a cab driver's identity card and it read: Nuno Jose Da Silva Machado Garcia Vilela. How do people address him, I asked. “They call me Nuno,” he smiled, adding, “My original name is longer!” Six-seven deck names were pretty common. So when our guide used the phonetic alphabet to spell the name of a posh area adjoining Lisbon's splendid UNESCO site, Jeronimos Monastery (where Vasco da Gama prayed before departing for India in 1497 AD), a colleague noted it as: Richard Edward Simon Thames Edward Lima Othello. But all that the beleaguered guide had meant to say was, Restelo!
TASTE OF INDIA
There's something very reassuring about home flavours. We had toured the Iberian Peninsula for about a week, and though we had been treated to outstanding cuisine, the taste buds longed for dal-chawal-roti. Very accommodatingly, our guide cancelled a prior booking and led us to a place local Portuguese recommended — India Gate, in Downtown Lisbon, one among the nearly 100 Indian restaurants here. No sooner had our group made itself comfortable than we had owner Hemant — who arrived here from Jamnagar six years ago to marry his ‘Internet lady love', a Gujarati settled in Portugal — scurrying around with our requirements. Oh! We felt quite at home placing the order in Hindi and then digging deep into an absolutely scrumptious fare, including baingan bartha, moong dal,raita, saag-paneer, a variety of non-veg besides aromatic basmati, crisp naan, and a host of accompaniments from papad, aachar, pyaz to namak. I requested a meeting with the chef, who turned out to be Vijeesh from Thrissur. I complimented the South Indian on preparing excellent North Indian food, and he beamed saying it was a team effort. His squad included a Nepali and two Punjabis: Baljit from Jalandhar and Mumtaz from Lahore, Pakistan.
ROOSTER CALLS
The Galo de Barcelos or the Barcelos Rooster is the national symbol of Portugal.
As legend goes, an accused sentenced to death in the town of Barcelos, celebrated for its pottery, appealed for reversal of judgement one last time before the Judge, who was attending a banquet. The Judge asked him to prove his innocence. The man desperately looked around and, on seeing a platter of steaming hot fowl carried by a waiter, prayed aloud to the Lord to prove his innocence by making the rooster crow. It's believed the cooked fowl got up and crowed loudly. The amazed Judge pronounced his verdict: ‘Never sit on judgment of a fellow man, and let the rooster be a reminder of that for generations to come'.
To this day it remains an emblem of honesty and is meant to bring good luck. I saw the rooster splashed across all sorts of souvenirs, perched on doorways or preening in lovely gardens. Though nowadays available in assorted material and colours, it's traditionally made out of clay, painted black, and decorated with white, green, yellow and blue polka dots.
A STRONG BOND
During World War II, Portugal was neutral territory and Lisbon quickly turned into a rendezvous zone for spies, chiefly because of its strategic Atlantic connections. Many a spy novel was set in and around the capital city and tourist agencies use that feature to their advantage by conducting special walking tours through spy routes. The most famous spy, though, to have set foot on Portugal is a certain James Bond. And Cascais, the cheerful town by the Atlantic Ocean, all of 30 minutes by train from Lisbon, flaunts the Bond connection via the flick On Her Majesty's Secret Service (1969), which was shot here and in the neighbouring casino town of Estoril.
While browsing Cascais's prettily-cobbled shopping street, I chanced upon a poster of Bond. “No one's been able to replace him,” I jokingly asked the Portuguese sales assistant. “None. They have all been merely 003.5,” he winked.
NO SOUR GRAPES
It seems a borrowed tradition from neighbour Spain but the Portuguese believe in it resolutely. It's the custom to eat 12 grapes on New Year's Eve as the clock strikes midnight. As a ritual, people are tuned to the town's clock tower and munch a grape with every chime. This is supposed to fulfil wishes and bring luck. I was told hardly anyone can finish all 12 in time and Lady Luck continues to act fickle. When I saw the lovely, big-sized grapes in the market, I realised why.
OF PASTRY AND MONASTERY
You can't have visited Lisbon and not savoured Pasteis de Belem, an egg custard-filled sweet puff pastry with a sprinkling of cinnamon and castor sugar. Not only will that amount to sacrilege, it's an epicurean loss too.
A legend in its own right, it was first prepared around the 1820s at the Jeronimos Monastery as a means of livelihood for nuns and monks. Since 1837, Antiga Confeitaria de Belem, adjoining the monastery, acquired the right to use its name. It bakes it by the hundreds every day and the recipe remains top secret.
The patisserie was typically packed when I visited. Every table had the same order, and when mine arrived, as I bit into its softly-crisp pastry and creamy filling I realised why locals said, “a dozen never reach home intact”! It is its sweet nostalgia that makes it so endearing.
(This article was published in The Hindu Business Line, on August 25, 2011)
www.thehindubusinessline.com/features/life/article2396898.ece
Monday, July 4, 2011
Cascais: Do it like Bond!
I enjoy good cinema, the kind that produces magic, whether it portrays reality, fantasy or comedy, but am not a movie-buff rushing to catch the Friday opener. Certainly there’s no testing my patience in front of predictable, uninspiring scripts. Nonetheless there’s one genre, okay one character, whose movies I can view anytime, despite them being awfully predictable and childishly fantastical. The James Bond flicks! It’s the silken ease and finesse with which 007 performs his craft that makes them engaging. Suspense aside, the locales of these films are mouth-watering, having been chosen from amongst the best the globe offers. One of these happened to be Cascais, Portugal, where I was heading with a group of fellow travellers. The Bond-connection made it the pick of the itinerary for me.
A little-heard place outside of Europe, some parts of Bond’s ‘On Her Majesty’s Secret Service’ were shot here. And it didn’t take long to know why. Picturesque and brilliant as an ocean-side can be, Cascais appeared made-to-order as an escape that let’s you truly unwind. Its sun, sand, surf, song and salubrious air has been reason enough to draw them all: royalty, nobility, celebrity and the Joneses.
Those attributes aside what I found most attractive was it being a lovely train-ride away, all of 30 minutes, from the capital sights of Lisbon (Lisboa to the Portuguese). What's more, for the major part of the journey the rail track runs along the Atlantic Ocean. It couldn’t get better than that, could it! Though I stay away from comparing places, I can’t resist asking you to visualise Goa being a few km beyond Delhi. If the mere thought is relaxing you’ll know why Lisboans cannot be found at home on the weekend. Our Portuguese host Ana, a loyal Lisboan who’s now relocated to Holland, shared her childhood memories of cycling and walking along the ocean, from the outskirts of Lisbon, to Cascais (25 km). “Oh! I do miss the trail. Those were wonderful times,” she reminisced. “It would seem the whole city was moving out. Surf-boards, beach-umbrellas, cycles, boats etc stacked atop cars or as baggage in trains was a common sight.”
It appeared quite similar to us as we boarded the commuter train at Cais do Sodre train station in Lisbon. The seater coaches were delightfully packed with feisty passengers in beach-wear, with a lot of them carrying gear Ana had mentioned. Apart from handful tourists like us, the majority were locals, clearly reflecting the ‘sussegado’ temperament of the Portuguese, the carefree legacy of theirs that’s happily stereotyped the Goans too. When travelling by train to Cascais, there’s a grab for seats on the left of the aisle, quite simply as the ocean borders that end. We were a little late in boarding the train and had to be content peeping over shoulders to view the aqua spread. Very sportingly those seated by the windows would shift around to let us catch a glimpse, with some graciously offering to swap places. The Portuguese are disarmingly friendly and it’s their warm, welcoming spirit that leaves a lasting impression.
Ana wanted us to experience the joys of walking on her favourite path, flanking the ocean, and made us hop out at Estoril station, two stops before the destination. Estoril is the twin city of Cascais and a 4-km waterfront pathway connects the two. Walking towards Cascais turned out to be very leisurely, with views of the ocean being constantly impressive and beaches filled with sunbathers and sun-shades providing immense colour. Of what I recalled from the Bond flick, Estoril was shown to be a spot famous for its casinos. Ana confirmed casinos remained the biggest draw of the town and pointed out the location where scenes of the film were shot; at the five-star Hotel Palacio, almost adjoining the famous Estoril Casino, amongst the largest in Europe.
The Estoril coast was pretty but Cascais certainly exuded more appeal, coyly flaunting itself as one of those postcard-perfect beach towns, all cosy, compact and cosmopolitan. It was our ‘day-off’, so to speak, after a hectic tour of Portugal and the agenda for the day was to relax by the ocean. It would have been worthwhile to spot some city sights (see fact file) but on the flipside there was a definite charm in being a local on foreign shores and not go tick-marking. And we did that quite spectacularly by settling ourselves in a buzzing open-air café by a cliff, where we lazily—oh! sussegado is so, so contagious—tucked into succulent Portuguese marine food. We ordered quite a variety and our tables were soon bursting with vibrant platters of gambas al ajillo (garlic prawns), ameijoas a bulhao pato (fried clams), robalinho grelhado (grilled bass), pescada c molho camarao (hake with prawn sauce), and yes, febras de praco na brasa (grilled pork scallops). Sangria was sipped as an accompaniment even as the eyes dreamily drank in glorious views of the vast, sapphire Atlantic. Near us a fado singer strummed his guitar and belted out quick numbers to add distinct flavour to the afternoon. Post-lunch the historic city centre beckoned. It was typically old-world with elegant pedestrian pathways typically cobbled with beige-black stone blocks recreating wave patterns. Inviting souvenir and apparel shops, snug bistros, lively restaurants, colourful houses with quaint balconies and trailing bougainvilleas lined the paved paths making the montage picturesque. The royals of Europe had found Cascais an ideal getaway and many had villas here. At present it’s the address for the rich and famous, and their luxurious properties dot town. Many can be spotted browsing around and sometimes are roped in by fans for a photograph, just as a popular Portuguese television anchor was when we were wandering the markets. A lot of Bangladeshi nationals have set up shops here and one of them gave me a generous discount on my purchases on account of being “neighbours back home”. Most cotton-attire stalls were retailing the ‘Made in India’ label and it was heart-warming to see bit of your country and its neighbourhood around.
Back on the train we had a new lot of passengers. This time around there were tanned bodies and composed faces. The thought of going back to work the next day after a splendid seaside holiday universally makes everyone exhausted. If wishes were horses... the return journey would have had nobody on board. Cascais is one of those sort of places you would never want to leave. Else, Bond would not have been here!
Air: Lisboa International Airport, 25 km from Cascais, has daily flights to and from hubs of Europe that connect with India.
Train (www.eurail.com): Cascais is reached by a breezy journey from Cais do Sodre train station in Lisbon. (This station is the final stop on the Green Metro Line).
Road: Connected with the A5 highway and the scenic EN 6, the national marginal road along the ocean.
City sights: Museu do Mar (Museum of the Sea); Museu do Castro Guimaraes (housed in a mansion of the Counts of Castro Guimaraes); Forte de St Jorge; Boca do Inferno, a stunning cliff ; Church do Nossa Senhora da Assuncao (decorated with 17th-century paintings of artist Josefa de Obidos); Guincho beach, featured in the Bond flick and a haven for surfers
Published in JetWings International, July 2011
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Porto: Call of the wine country
It appeared the two geographically-diverse cities — Lisbon (with its sun-baked plazas) and Porto (where cool mountain air wafts in making it semi-Mediterranean) — agreed to disagree on almost everything. Except, when it came to Port wine! The pride of Portugal, the wine is aged and marketed from Porto. Jorge knew he had no competition here and proudly said: “Portugal and its famous wine get their name from my city.” Maybe, just maybe, a faint smile lit up his face then.
Porto, or O Porto (The Port) as Portuguese refer to it, is the country’s second largest city and amongst the oldest provincial settlements of Europe. Dating back to AD 3, it features on the Unesco world heritage list. It’s on the estuary of the lovely Rio Douro (River of Gold) that meanders through the Iberian Peninsula before embracing the Atlantic Ocean.
Around 90 km north of Porto, its waters form the Douro Valley, where the wine is exclusively produced in over six-lakh acres of quintas (vineyards). In times gone by, wine casks were sent down the Douro in rabelos or flat-bottom sailing vessels, to be stored in adegas (cellars) at Porto and its sister city Vila Nova de Gaia, just across the river. It was bottled and exported from here, acquiring the name ‘Port wine’ or ‘Vinho do Porto’.
Vila Nova De Gaia — linked to Porto by the famous arched Dom Luis I Bridge (featured in many a Hollywood movie) engineered by an associate of Eiffel — is where we headed for a tour of the ‘wine caves’ (as cellars are called) at the circa 1859 firm, Calem, one of the leaders among the over dozen lining the Douro.Our dishy Greek guide briefly introduced the fortified wine, consumed as an aperitif or dessert, before leading us to a casket-shaped room to view a short film on wine production. “You are sitting in a casket, if sweet enough you’ll turn into wine,” he joked. None of us did! Next up was a walk through the caves packed with oak casks and getting acquainted with different ports—Blanco or White, which was gaining in acceptance; time-honoured Ruby and Tawany that could be stored after opening; and the delicately-fashionable Vintages. The quick tour gave a wine novice like me a feel of the deal and concluded with a tasting of red and white port in a sparkling hall, with a live band adding to the mood. Expectedly, each of us picked up a bottle of port as souvenir.
Porto’s history shows a series of conquerors, from the Romans to the Moors, stepping on to its shores and dominating for centuries. Their assorted influences are visible in the compelling architecture found within its labyrinth of cobbled alleys, edifice façades with distinctive blue ceramic tiles, Gothic churches (the pick of the city sites for me being Igreja de São Francisco or Church of Saint Francis with Baroque-style gilt edged wood interiors) and the classic town square, all coming together to lend a quaint yet atypical medieval look.
The river-front or Ribeira is the most atmospheric part of the historic city, packed with open-air cafes, restaurants and pubs. It’s nice to sit by the river here and soak in the spirit. Adding to bygone charms are the sailing rabelos. Though no longer in use, these are a tourist attraction for cruises. On St John’s Day, June 24, crowds gather by the Douro to watch rabelos take part in the annual regatta.
And of course, celebrations mean the vinho do porto flows unrestricted and diligent Porto lets its hair down.
HOW TO REACH: Air: Several low-cost and regular international carriers fly into Porto.
Train (www.eurailtravel.com): From Lisbon stations (Gare do Oriente or Santa Apolónia), take the train for Campanha (3 hours), from where there’s the choice of changing to a train heading to Sao Bento, the city centre (5 minutes, no extra ticket required), or taking taxis.
WHERE TO STAY: Tiara Park Atlantic Porto (www.tiara-hotels.com), Porto Palácio Hotel (www.hotelportopalacio.com)
Published in The New Indian Express, July 2011
WHERE TO STAY: Tiara Park Atlantic Porto (www.tiara-hotels.com), Porto Palácio Hotel (www.hotelportopalacio.com)
Published in The New Indian Express, July 2011
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