How a Pastry Altered My Reality

I still think about it 943 days later

This is a story about how a pastry altered my reality. (It’s really about the importance context and timing.)

It’s a little annoying, actually, thinking about how the circumstances surrounding a pastry are nearly impossible to recreate and how the perspective earned from the situation is difficult to remember (even though it’s important).

As annoying as it is, I still think about it 943 days later.

Allow me to set the scene.

Late September, 2023 - It’s approximately 7:39pm and I’m standing on cobblestones in the middle of Praça do Giraldo - the town square in Evora, Portugal. The evening light has softened from golden to blue, casting a dreamy haze over the marble fountain.

I am unable to romanticize much more than that, because in that moment, I was…cranky.

Well, detached may be a better word as I was trying my absolute hardest to not be cranky. I know the first rule of travel is to be flexible and grateful, but that doesn’t mean it’s always easy.

By 7:39pm, I was at the last stop of a multi-hour walking tour and was fatigued, hungry, and cold. To be clear, I was having a great day (I love activities), but it’s exceptionally easy to overdo it when traveling. This is where a lot of travel blogs do us a disservice by leaving out the little inconveniences. I get it, the money is in the extremes and no one likes a whiner. But in reality, most travel frustrations don’t arise from major calamities, they come from little things stacking on top of each other. It doesn’t matter where you are, novelty and adrenaline will only carry you so far before you crumble. Trust me, “hangry” is the same in all languages. You must pace yourself.

Narrator: I believe you mentioned something about a pastry?

Ah, yes, back to the praça.

At this point, no amount of baroque architecture was going to save my mood. (Which, if you know me, you know I love ornate architecture). Most of the group was getting anxious to leave, when out of nowhere our trip leader appeared with a box from a local bakery. He started passing around a traditional Portuguese pastry called a queijada.

Not to be dramatic, but when I took a bite, time stood still. I was suddenly in a movie scene where dialogue cuts out, the orchestra crescendos, and the camera does a slow motion pan around the main characters while the chaotic action happens in the background.

This queijada was phenomenal.

And complex.

And perfect.

It’s not a cheesecake or muffin or tart, but somehow the best parts of all three? I might even argue that it’s better than a pastel de nata.

Have you ever had a queijada? A pastel de nata? Do you have a favorite?

I always have strong opinions when it comes to baked goods, but my immediate obsession with this one took me by surprise. Why was this little treat so mesmerizing?

With a renewed energy, we went on to have an incredible night (that’s a different story).

I thought about that queijada for the rest of the trip and decided I needed that little bit of magic at least once more before I left the country. I eventually found one, but I didn’t find the magic with it. It was still delicious, but it wasn’t earth-shattering the way I had hoped.

The reason I couldn’t replicate that first bite feeling I had on the square is the same reason all of the best travel moments can’t be replicated. Part of what makes an experience powerful is the context. Who are you with? How did you get there? What’s the environment like? Do you have the time to truly enjoy it?

It’s never just ‘the activity’ or ‘the food’ or ‘the hotel’ that creates a memory, it’s everything that surrounds it. I know it’s frustrating, because when something incredible happens all you want to do is replicate it. But at the end of the day, it’s not the thing we should be chasing. It’s the emotion, the feeling of joy. No one can tell you how to find it, that’s for each individual person to determine.

If you flip your perspective, it’s also an incredibly beautiful thing about travel -experiencing things that can’t be replicated. You get to create unique memories instead of routine memories.

I may never have another queijada (that would be tragic), but I do know that I love pre-dinner snacks, social activities, eating outside, blue hour, and local stories. If I can find myself in more scenarios that involve at least some those things, I’ll be well on my way to experiencing something magical.