I sat at this small sardine shop to experience a plate of a delightful local favorite… mini fish with sheep cheese, black eyed peas and freshly baked bread… And perfectly sweetened Lemonade.
I ended my meal and handed the solo server/ food preparer my credit card. “We don’t take credit card.”
I’ve spent all my euros and have none to pay her.
I sit allowing myself to just have a moment.
An elderly gentleman and his wife who had just arrived only moments earlier stare at me. They ask me, You’re American?
I reply, You’re French?
He says yes.
He offers to pay for my meal.
He’s wearing old worn-out women’s pajama pants, a gray sweatshirt and a ripped oversized down vest jacket.
His wife has more of a boho chic look about her. Something sophisticated hides behind her Portuguese weathered, smoke-aged face, tattered espadrilles and thrown together look.
Maybe it’s the beautiful white hair perfectly feathered at the bangs and cut just right. She made her husband’s homeless facade questionable.
“I have 9 euros. My meal is 14.”
He jokes.
I laugh.
He opens up…
He shares that this is his 5th wife.
I ask about the other 4.
He gave them everything and lived under a bridge after each. He wanted nothing.
And now…
He shares he only works 10 days out of the year. He cares little about money. He’s only interested in his ‘projects’.
His next project… Bringing 20 children between 9 and 14 together in the south of France to each build a republic…
A republic I ask?
He explains.
His bride stares ahead.
She seems used to his stories but I’m not sure if she believes them any more than I should.
I test the waters…
I tell them of my summer ‘project’ bringing 14 young girls together to learn about Entrepreneurship by building their own Lemonade stand. They learn gender roles and confidence and…
He’s unimpressed.
‘That is so American!’
I smile at the Frenchness of this statement.
I have no interest in teaching children, he says. I want them to teach ME!
He says he owns the entire building where I just ate sardines. He also owns a French village where he and his wife are the only citizens.
His shoes don’t validate that story for me.
Nor do the yellows of his teeth or the attempt at humbly boasting about his supposed opulence.
His tales are as tall as Robert Wadlow.
He tells me the age of his head. 88.
His shoes are 15.
His jacket 4. A gift from Maria.
I ask if his feet are 88, too.
Wife Maria chimes in… She’s not sure if I’ve heard enough. Or maybe she has.
She redirects the conversation. Asks what I do.Then tells me she’s an artist.
I want something in their words to be true. I need to know… Who are these strange yet engaging people?
I ask for her website. They don’t do technology. But she did once have one.. Maria Mendoca dot Com. It doesn’t work.
Frenchy says he has a website, too…But can’t recall the address.
He gets up and walks slightly to the right, just in front of the door that leads into the building he said he owns…
I tell Maria… Your husband is filled with stories!
She smiles… And says yes..
The tallest seemingly being that he’s not really 88. He is 78.
We laugh.
Moments later, he returns back with his laptop. Pulls up his website…https://designasustainabletomorrow.com/
And then… A young, artsy Portuguese couple walk up…
Hugs.
Laughs.
Reconnecting…
Maria offers them a coffee and tour of her and Frenchy’s ‘new cave’…
And then she invites me along…
Oh. Myyyy. A cave of the highest kind!
I learn they just sold one of the largest hotels in Lisbon. And bought this building where my sardine Cafe is. And moved into this ‘cave’. And this grand space, decked with spectacular local original art, 2 open ceiling sun rooms and numerous other rooms.. A modest remodeled kitchen.
They own other properties…
Villages not homes.
He’s a ‘Landscape’ Collector…Yes. He collects properties with beautiful, grand landscapes. And beautiful they are…
I stay longer than expected wanting to know more. And without prompting they offer more…I ‘m in awe.
Curious as to when such exceptional wealth stops caring about money.
Maria and Frenchy leave. But first Maria gives me their email address and asks I stay in touch.
The server/ food preparer laughs. And then confirmed that these are indeed her eccentric and abundantly wealthy new landlords.
I am reminded of Frenchy’s shoes and once and for all of one of the greatest quotes of all time.
Never judge a book by its shoes.