Setubal is a port town south of Lisbon where traditional industries such as fish processing and shipbuilding co-exist with modern apartment blocks and curiously redundant concrete edifices. Some examples of these are issues of contention with the local community such as the outdoor stage built back to front and the hollow skate-boarding rink outside the landmark 15th century 'Monastery of Jesus' that flooded the pulpit as soon as the rains came. Home to Vitoria football club and 'the special one'-Jose Mourinho, Setubal has a serious football passion that evokes as much national and regional sentiment as its 'sardinha'.
When you don't have a concrete slab on a crane above your head, Setubal is an odd delight- the local nightclub is a former Yamaha car showroom and the huge seafront indoor market is a vibrant testimony to the rich resources on this beautiful coastline. And if you take your chances with an adrenalin-junkie on a moped, the nearby Arrabida natural park is breathtaking- a beautiful protected area covered with pines and rich Mediterranean vegetation.
Having lived for 2 months in Setubal, the hub of the Portuguese sardine industry, I understood the thrill of the Sardinhada's Guinness world record achievement (these peixe did lure the Romans here) but having spent the day visiting the Lisbon Oceanarium decided against a plate of roasted fins. 'I never eat anything with eyes' as some might say. I was actually glad to have been disoriented on the meandering streets of Bairro Alto in Lisbon on Saturday and avoid the raucous tones of competitive fish stuffing. The excruciating resonance of football horns was quite enough on the night of the Benefica championship. My ear drums are already perforated from the nightly garbage truck at 1am outside my stifling apartment, not to mention the inevitable cacophony of the bottle bank on a delicate Sunday morning. As Alan Bennett would say 'life is rather like a tin of sardines and we are all looking for the key'.
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