Praying to the King of Ethiopia in Portugal

Plus: Umbrellas and rain, pink castles and songs to start 2025

Dear Reader,

I bought an umbrella the other day.

It was 10 euros at a tourist shop here in Lisbon.

I would have bought an umbrella earlier, before it rained, but instead I walked outside and knew I would get embarrassingly wet without one so I ducked into the tiny shop next to my Airbnb and picked between the 5 euro, 10 euro, and 15 euro models.

I chose the middle model in blue.

Of course, I’ve only used it once since then.

Where the real umbrellas hang out - on Pink Street in Lisbon

But weird things can happen between rain spells.

Like a whole group of people deciding to pray to the King of Ethiopia. Forever.

“Wait, what?” when I heard the story told to me by a Kenyan on the train. “The Rastafarians in Kenya and Jamaica are praying to the King of Ethiopia? Is he even still alive?”

“No,” he said rolling his eyes. “Of course he’s not. But you see when he arrived in Jamaica, when his plane touched down, it started raining, and it hadn’t rained for five years, so they believed he brought the rain.”

He shrugged his shoulders as if what happened next, starting a religion based on this, was inevitable.

Then he asked me, “Would you ever become a cult leader?”

This, dear reader, is a good question, one that if you haven’t asked yourself recently, or by a stranger on a train, well, you should.

Because when faced with the power to do good or evil and you choose cult leader, I think we both know what side you’re on.

“No,” I responded firmly, “but I don’t think the King of Ethiopia was trying to become a cult leader at that time either, do you? I mean, he didn’t arrange to show up in Jamaica right as it was starting to rain. The weather forecast isn’t even that good now, let alone then.”

He nodded, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, two braids dangling with beads in front of his forehead.

I looked outside the train to Sintra at the blue sky above me in Portugal and thought about the weather forecast I read in the free newspaper I picked up at the Pingo Doce grocery store.

It was supposed to be gray and cloudy. Possibly rainy. And instead it was clear and sunny. Not a cloud in sight. Just blue. All the way to the ocean.

When we got to Sintra, the man from Kenya, who was traveling with an American man and a German woman left the train and headed to Pena Palace, where I was planning to go after drinking a good coffee with milk.

I’ve found that it’s difficult to get a very hot coffee here as a cappuccino, so I order coffee mei leite and usually get something approaching very hot.

At Pena Palace in Sintra

People are always surprised that I spent 9 months in Portugal without having visited Sintra, with its complex of castles and historic sites that span ancient to relatively recent history.

It’s another Unesco World Heritage Site.

Pena Palace, with its romantic yellow and red and blue colors, sits at the top of a cliff looking out to the North Atlantic ocean.

Like Mount Vernon in Virginia, tourists queue up to get into the rooms at a certain time, walking through stately rooms with beds made for dignitaries who were obviously a lot smaller than the average person now.

Inside Pena Palace

My feet would have to hang over the end of those sleigh beds to fit.

It’s painfully noticeable whenever I climb the stairs to get to my Airbnb apartment in Lisbon.

The length of each stair is about half the size of my feet, leaving me with the option to let half of my foot hang over or to walk sideways, which is usually what I opt for, especially going down.

This is why I bought shoes in the United States before coming back, because it’s easier to find a size 9 - 9.5 there (which is a size 41-42 here).

“Where are all the pillows?” I wondered while singing the phrase to the song, “Who knows where the time goes” as I walked through the third bedroom with nary a good pillow in sight. “How did they sleep in the nineteenth century without them?”

I was overjoyed that my Airbnb included a two feather pillows when I arrived. Bliss.

As we walked through the rooms I overheard one British tourist say to another as he pointed to a desk, “That was the King’s work-at-home-during-Covid setup.”

He wasn’t kidding, actually.

You may be wondering more about the weather.

So, I will tell you that winter in Lisbon is nice.

People here sometimes look like they are experiencing winter (puffy coats, hats, scarves, gloves) but I can tell you that this is not winter.

A low in the 40s with highs in the 60s is possibly spring in Montana, possibly.

Winter in Montana means shivering next to a fire while your bum gets warm.

Winter in Lisbon means a slight chill on the back, a light coat in the evening, and perhaps a space heater near your bed at night.

Sometimes gloves and a scarf. Rarely a hat. Rarely an umbrella.

Now, I think there is something to what’s in your blood.

Warming up with cappuccino and a Pastel de Nata custard tart in Portugal

What’s in my blood is years of cold weather for six months out of the year.

I sweat easily in hot weather as a result.

I don’t feel the chill as much as people who are used to milder climates.

January in Lisbon is nice. That’s what I can say.

The owner of my Airbnb is a Portuguese woman who is an architect, and who brought her parents to greet me. Her dad and her carried one of my heavy suitcases up two flights of tiny stairs, while I carried the other one and then her mother carried my carryon.

I wanted a place in the city to experience the city and I deliberately picked one near a tourist area because of its proximity to shops and the metro and some of the most famous things to see.

I am getting up with the sun in the morning, around 8 a.m., and trying to establish a new set routine. I need to adjust to later days and later mornings here. In Africa I was in bed by 9 p.m. and up at 6 a.m..

But here, if I am to join in the evening culture of late dinners and concerts, I need to start going to bed at least at 11 p.m. and up more around 7:00 or 8:00 a.m.

Everything is an adjustment, but here’s the thing.

If needed, I can always pray to the King of Ethiopia for rain, or buy an umbrella.

Love,

Janelle

P.S. Thank you so much to my paid subscribers for sticking with me as I make some pretty big ife adjustments! Your support has helped so much. I made a video just for you, below, which is a peek into my Airbnb in Lisbon. I hope you enjoy it. I’m creating travel itineraries for you which I will start releasing next week. More soon!