Latest news with #Lisboetas
The Independent
22-05-2025
- The Independent
Why Europe is having more earthquakes – and the science behind the rise
Tourists were urged to 'move away from the coast' after a 6.1-magnitude earthquake struck near Crete in the early hours of Monday morning, triggering tsunami warning. The quake, which hit at 3:19am local time, startled residents and holidaymakers alike, a stark reminder of the region's vulnerability to seismic shocks. Last year, residents in Lisbon experienced their own terrifying wake-up call when an earthquake struck without warning at 5:11am. To make matters worse, the computer system of Portugal's oceanic and atmospheric agency crashed shortly after the shaking began. No injuries were reported, but those jolted from sleep described moments of panic and disorientation. Patricia Brito, who lives in the centre of the city, says that once she found her footing, she skidded into her parents thinking 'this was the big one'. The shaking lasted less than a minute, but for three hours, she couldn't go to sleep as she and her friends WhatsApped each other from Setubal to Porto as they shared their stories. 'One friend woke up and threw up a minute before it started, so she must have been hypersensitive to it coming.' While the earthquake was moderate, with Lisbon 84km from its epicentre, the news dominated Portuguese and European headlines as it was felt in Gibraltar, Spain and Morocco. The panic among Lisboetas was also understandable as residents of the city are used to living in the shadow of 1755, when a massive earthquake collapsed Lisbon's churches during mass, launched tsunami waves over the city's walls, and caused fires that lasted six days. Scientists estimate the magnitude of that devastating event was 7.7 compared to the 5.4 that occurred on 26 August. What would an earthquake of that size mean for Lisbon today? Given that two-thirds of the city's buildings were built before anti-seismic regulations of the 1980s, the damage could be untold, which is why residents of that city are often exposed to drills whether that is tsunami alarms that are tested near the waterfront of the city, or school children being given instructions of what to do in the event of a catastrophic event. In the aftermath, residents were all sent text messages reminding them to be alert to aftershocks, keep shoes close to them and check for cracks, damage and smells of gas. As southern Europe's seismic activity intensifies, scientists are warning that these recent tremors could be part of a broader and more dangerous pattern. We might not want to think about it, but Lisbon and Crete, like many parts of Europe, is under constant threat. It is just a matter of time before another big one strikes southern Europe. There's no stopping the African tectonic plate on its path northward, threatening major upheaval. Research published this May indicates that the climate crisis has magnified the hazard: rising sea levels and stronger storms can trigger earthquakes and related disasters like landslides and tsunamis. Even a little extra pressure from a full lake or reservoir can initiate seismic slip. This means increased risk for coastal areas around the Mediterranean, which are particularly vulnerable. Not even the UK is safe, where earthquakes might seem exotic from the vantage point of the British Isles. In the 19th century, the popular historian Henry Thomas Buckle insisted that freedom from earthquakes was a precondition for Britain's economic dynamism, since fear would discourage investment. He even claimed that earthquake-prone lands were doomed to mental backwardness, for 'there grow up among the people those feelings of awe, and of helplessness, on which all superstition is based'. Nonetheless, the Scottish highlands have a long, well-documented history of small earthquakes. The tiny village of Comrie even became a tourist destination in the 19th century for those curious to feel the earth shake. In 1863, a tremor was palpable across 85,000 square metres of England, and in 1884 a quake centred in Essex caused enough damage to launch a national collection. For a brief moment following these tremors, fear struck the heart of the British empire. Charles Dickens proclaimed that 'we enjoy no immunity from the most sudden, the most irresistible, the most destructive of nature's powers. Another such shock as the Lisbon earthquake may happen this or next year.' The Times warned of 'means, utterly beyond our ken and our computation, far below our feet, by which cities may be subverted, populations suddenly cut off, and empires ruined…Who can say what strange trial of shaking, or upheaving, sinking, dividing, or drying up may await us?' These were passing worries. Earthquakes in the UK were sooner entertainment than hazard. Nineteenth-century Londoners could procure a thrill by visiting the Cyclorama's recreation of the Great Lisbon Earthquake, including moving scenery and offstage screams. British earthquakes were long forgotten when the UK began building nuclear reactors in the 1960s, without anti-seismic reinforcement. Seismologists did their best to raise awareness. In 1983, The New Scientist placed an image on its cover of a cup of tea being thrown from its saucer, with the headline 'Is Britain Prepared for Earthquakes?' The Times responded with a dismissive editorial, insisting that the British 'have other things on their mind'. In the 2010s, reports of tremors in Lancashire were linked to hydraulic fracking, which can trigger earthquakes much as rising water levels do. The government placed a moratorium on fracking in 2019, but fear of a fuel shortage from the war in Ukraine has driven demands to lift it. Experts are still calculating the risks. The earthquakes that threaten southern Europe are roughly 100,000 times more powerful than the ones produced by fracking in the UK. Governments in the region rely on short-term forecasting to avert disaster. Following a deadly earthquake in L'Aquila, Italy in 2009, six seismologists were convicted of manslaughter because they had failed to warn the city of imminent danger. Although their convictions were overturned on appeal, the demand for earthquake forecasts has grown. This is a dangerous trend, since seismologists agree that there's no reliable method for predicting earthquakes. The only way to reduce risk is to avoid building near active faults and to enforce construction codes. The message is clear: facing up to seismic risk requires long-term planning. It also requires cooperation. The most destructive earthquake in Europe's history hit Sicily in 1908. It killed approximately half the residents of Messina and destroyed around 90 per cent of the city's buildings. The disaster struck as Europe's imperial powers seemed headed towards conflict. Just two months earlier, Austria had annexed Bosnia, fanning the flames that would lead to war in 1914. The humanitarian response to the earthquake was prompt and dramatic. Dozens of Russian, British, French, and American ships brought food, blankets, and construction materials. American workers built roughly 3,000 new homes for the survivors with material provided by the US government and the Red Cross. They did so with the explicit aim of promoting 'good feeling between the nations'. Two weeks after the disaster, the cover of a German satirical magazine featured a drawing of two demons, one commenting to the other: 'Everything was so beautifully prepared for a war. Then that meathead comes and makes an earthquake! The whole human race is fraternising again, and we've lost our chance.' Although the demon was sadly mistaken about the chance of war, the earthquake did inspire international partnership in the long term. The International Relief Union was founded in 1927 by a member of the Italian Red Cross who had dedicated several months to recovery work in Messina in 1908. There he learned that responding to disasters would require an unprecedented degree of international coordination. Earthquake preparedness also calls for cooperation with the public. One of the surest ways to collect information about seismic risk while raising public awareness is to encourage citizens to take science into their own hands. Ironically, Europeans tended to be more seismically savvy in the 19th century than today. Back then, scientists built their accounts of earthquakes largely from the eyewitness accounts of survivors. 'Likely in no other field is the researcher so completely dependent on the help of the non-geologist,' wrote one 19th-century geologist; 'and nowhere is the observation of each individual of such high value as with earthquakes… Only through the cooperation of all can a satisfying result be delivered.' Even today, the most sophisticated seismographs alone can't say how much damage a future temblor is likely to cause. That kind of information can only come from people on the ground sharing their observations. As I discovered by reading dusty letters between scientists and citizen observers for my book on the subject, a lively dialogue emerged in the 19th century about how best to live with seismic risk. Scientists learned what the readings of their instruments meant in terms of the felt experience of people on the scene, while observers developed a new curiosity about our dynamic planet. Reviving this dialogue could help Europe build a common language for earthquake safety today.
Forbes
17-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Forbes
Lisbon's New Fine Dining: 6 Restaurants That Are Better Than Ever
Fifty Seconds There's never been a better time to eat snazzily in Lisbon. A new generation of Portuguese chefs is taking over storied establishments and putting their own internationally inflected stamps on them, others are embracing their deeply regional roots and writing culinary love letters to their hometowns, and a few savvy transplants are doing their own thing with more and more confidence. While natural wine bars and brunch cafés are proliferating throughout the Portuguese capital, hipster-traditional 'neo tascas' are becoming critical darlings, and Michelin's slow drip of new stars has left some food lovers disappointed, there are still restaurants committed to fine dining in its full glory—or else in its newer, more playful and casual f0rmat—with tasting menus, trolley service and ever-more-inventive beverage pairings. Atlantic wreckfish, spinach and bivalves at Cura The city's Four Seasons hotel will always be the Ritz to Lisboetas, especially those with a fondness for history and architecture. The quietly glamorous dining room at the hotel's Michelin-star restaurant, Cura, would be worth a trip on its own—the book-matched marble behind the bar, the elegant Deco armchairs, the gorgeous wood inlays that decorate the walls. But in the past two months, new chef de cuisine Rodolfo Lavrador has also been elevating the food as a star of the city's gastronomic scene. Lavrador worked in fine dining kitchens in Madrid, New York and London before returning to his native Portugal and joining Cura as sous-chef three years ago. Since he's taken over the kitchen here, he's evolved the five- and ten-course tasting menus to have a Portuguese soul and a welcome lightness. Linguini-like ribbons of squid are paired with hazelnut, toasted seaweed butter, bergamot and Oscietra caviar. Teardrop-shaped spring peas are complemented by chorizo, egg yolk and cured tuna. Refreshingly, even the long menu takes less than three hours to complete, and leaves guests pleasantly satisfied rather than overwhelmed. Scarlet prawn with Asian buns, curry and lemon caviar at Fifty Seconds Chef Rui Silvestre already held the distinction of being the youngest Portuguese chef to earn a Michelin star in Portugal (when he was just 29) when he was tapped to fill some of the biggest kitchen clogs in town. He took over the kitchen at Fifty Seconds from Spanish maestro Martín Berasategui in early 2024 and has retained that restaurant's star as well. Silvestre's ambitious 14-course tasting menu is more fully Portuguese than that of his predecessors—but fully Portuguese in a way that includes the former colonies as well as the continent. One of his grandmothers grew up in Goa, and his mother was born in Mozambique. That upbringing shows in his confident use of spice—and not only the curries and masalas of the Portuguese-speaking world. Blue lobster is enlivened with harissa, amberjack pops with jalapeño, and Balfegó tuna gets a wake-up from wasabi. Head sommelier Marc Pinto has won all kinds of awards for his exquisite pairings—and plenty of ooohs and aaahs for the large-format bottles of private-label port he wheels out on a trolley at the end of the meal—and the dining room remains a stunner. It sits atop the Myriad by Sana hotel in the Vasco da Gama Tower, some 400 feet high (and a 50-second elevator ride) with some of the most dramatic views in town. A new rhubarb dessert at Boubou's Portuguese-French chef Louise Bourrat quickly established herself as Lisbon's fine dining wunderkind when she arrived in 2018 to help her brother and sister-in-law open their namesake restaurant. Although she won the French version of Top Chef in 2022 and was named Breakthrough Chef in Portugal in 2024, she's less interested in celebrity than in turning out ever more innovative and delightful food. Her brand-new 'Bloom' menu (seven or ten courses) is arguably her best yet. It's certainly the prettiest, with standout dishes like tuna belly and sea urchin bites topped with purple radish flowers; grilled, raw, and lacto-fermented white asparagus dolled up with fermented kumquat and elderflowers; and royal crab that's accompanied by geranium gel and a meticulously composed 'sunflower' of caviar surrounded by petals of celery root that have been marinated in apple juice. The pre-dessert of rhubarb sorbet with pickled and confit rhubarb, sour cotton candy and vivid blue butterfly pea tea is perfectly beautiful—as is the relaxed, plant-filled dining room. Dinner service inside at Plano Dinner on a summer evening in the backyard garden at Plano, where chef Vitor Adão cooks over an open fire, is one of the most magical culinary encounters in Lisbon. But even inside, the experience is memorable, thanks to the brick-lined dining room and Adão's technique-driven but genuinely passionate cooking. Earlier this year, to celebrate the restaurant's sixth anniversary, he doubled down on making it his own. Now he's fully embracing his roots in Trás-os-Montes ('behind the mountains'), a rural, remote area in the far north of the country. That's clear from the get-go, when a procession of hyper-regional snacks—a rissole (fried pastry) of wild boar from the village of Nogueira, grilled Mirandês lamb from Miranda do Douro with a crispy waffle and riata, Maronesa veal covilhete (small pie) with lime gel and turnip—emerges from the kitchen and is nestled into ceramics that serve as bas-relief maps of the region. After the geography lesson, the rest of the tasting menu is more traditional, but still a tribute to his community, featuring dishes like Adão's now-famous potato mille-fueille (using potatoes from the very farm where he grew up), here with black garlic, coriander mayonnaise and black truffle, and the sopa seca (very dry bread soup) that comes with the bacalhau (salted cod) course. A dessert at Fortaleza do Guincho Last year, the classic restaurant at the Relais & Châteaux hotel Fortaleza do Guincho in the Lisbon suburb of Cascais began a renovation that's lightening up the dining room while keeping the focus on the dramatic Atlantic right outside. Longtime chef Gil Fernandes also redesigned the concept of the menu (whose specifics change with the seasons, like everyone's these days) to incorporate more sustainability storytelling. 'In Guincho, we aim to contribute, even in a small way, to address global challenges,' he says. They're 'fostering a mindset that drives meaningful change—sourcing locally, supporting regenerative and organic farming, foraging responsibly, and honoring the natural seasonality of ingredients.' And while they're aiming for some dishes to be thought-provoking, they've wisely steered far clear of the 'edible' plastic trend that was leaving diners with sticky mouths a few years ago and instead ensured that everything—razor clams with curry and foraged oxalis flowers, 'Grandmother's Recipe' for limpet rice with sea fennel— is still a pleasure to eat. A zero waste dish at Sem 'We're changing all the time,' says George McLoed, the New Zealand chef behind Lisbon's most fully committed zero-waste restaurant. He opened Sem ('without' in Portuguese) a few years ago with his Brazilian partner in business and life, Lara Espírito Santo. Their aim is to use absolutely everything that comes into their kitchen. It's nose to tail, scales to spines, roots to leaves, and even leftover bread that gets fermented into a yummy, vegemite-like spread. The six-course menu, which changes almost daily, emphasizes innovation and regenerative agriculture, eschewing foie gras and tuna belly (actually, all marine fish, as much of it is at risk of depletion) and instead using small amounts of animal protein from invasive freshwater fish or famously renewable rabbits. They forage, they pickle, they upcycle their furniture, and they educate guests about being part of the solution to the food industry's environmental problems. McLoed warns diners that they're going to encounter a lot of fermentation, and to be sure, some of the sensory experiences are pleasantly funky. Take, for instance, a recurring dish based on potatoes with Serra da Estrela cheese, hay-cured pears, grilled peas seasoned with wild sumac vinegar, a spicy strawberry seed sauce with chard, and egg white garum. These are flavors that exist nowhere else in Lisbon.
The Independent
13-03-2025
- The Independent
Naples has been hit by an earthquake - where else is at risk this summer?
Many residents in and around Naples, Italy, spent the night outside or in their cars after the strongest earthquake in 40 years rattled buildings and sent debris crashing down. But this wave of seismic unrest isn't isolated to Italy. In recent months, powerful earthquakes have also struck other popular European holiday spots, including Croatia and Santorini, raising concerns about the safety of these beloved travel destinations. The unusual frequency and intensity of these quakes have left locals and tourists alike on edge, unsure of what more to expect. This isn't a new phenomenon, either. There was no warning before the earthquake in Lisbon last August. Worse, the computer system of Portugal's oceanic and atmospheric agency crashed shortly after the shaking began at 5.11am. No injuries were reported, but residents, who were mostly fast asleep when it hit, have told of being terrified, jumping out of bed and 'not being able to stand up'. Patricia Brito, who lives in the centre of the city, says that, once she found her footing, she skidded into her parents thinking 'this was the big one'. The shaking lasted less than a minute, but for three hours she couldn't go to sleep as she and her friends WhatsApped each other from Setubal to Porto as they shared their stories. 'One friend woke up and threw up a minute before it started, so she must have been hyper-sensitive to it coming.' The earthquake was a magnitude 5.4 on the Richter scale and was the largest seismic activity in the last 55 years in mainland Portugal and, while Lisbon was 84km from its epicentre, it was felt in Gibraltar, Spain and Morocco. Like the residents of Greek, Lisboetas are used to living in the shadow of 1755, when a massive earthquake collapsed Lisbon's churches during mass, launched tsunami waves over the city's walls, and caused fires that lasted six days. Scientists estimate the magnitude of that devastating event was 7.7 compared to the 5.4 that occurred on 26 August. What would an earthquake of that size mean for Lisbon today? Given that two-thirds of the city's buildings were built before anti-seismic regulations of the 1980s, the damage could be untold, which is why residents of that city are often exposed to drills whether that is tsunami alarms that are tested near the waterfront of the city, or school children being given instructions of what to do in the event of a catastrophic event. When quakes happen residents in many of these destinations are sent text messages reminding them to be alert to aftershocks, keep shoes close to them and check for cracks, damage and smells of gas. We might not want to think about it, but many holiday destinations, are under constant threat. It is just a matter of time before another big one strikes southern Europe. There's no stopping the African tectonic plate on its path northward, threatening major upheaval. Research published last May indicated that the climate crisis has magnified the hazard: rising sea levels and stronger storms can trigger earthquakes and related disasters like landslides and tsunamis. Even a little extra pressure from a full lake or reservoir can initiate seismic slip. This means increased risk for coastal areas around the Mediterranean, which are particularly vulnerable. Not even the UK is safe, where earthquakes might seem exotic from the vantage point of the British Isles. In the 19th century, the popular historian Henry Thomas Buckle insisted that freedom from earthquakes was a precondition for Britain's economic dynamism, since fear would discourage investment. He even claimed that earthquake-prone lands were doomed to mental backwardness, for 'there grow up among the people those feelings of awe, and of helplessness, on which all superstition is based'. Nonetheless, the Scottish highlands have a long, well-documented history of small earthquakes. The tiny village of Comrie even became a tourist destination in the 19th century for those curious to feel the earth shake. In 1863, a tremor was palpable across 85,000 square metres of England, and in 1884 a quake centred in Essex caused enough damage to launch a national collection. For a brief moment following these tremors, fear struck the heart of the British empire. Charles Dickens proclaimed that 'we enjoy no immunity from the most sudden, the most irresistible, the most destructive of nature's powers. Another such shock as the Lisbon earthquake may happen this or next year.' The Times warned of 'means, utterly beyond our ken and our computation, far below our feet, by which cities may be subverted, populations suddenly cut off, and empires ruined…Who can say what strange trial of shaking, or upheaving, sinking, dividing, or drying up may await us?' These were passing worries. Earthquakes in the UK were sooner entertainment than hazard. Nineteenth-century Londoners could procure a thrill by visiting the Cyclorama's recreation of the Great Lisbon Earthquake, including moving scenery and offstage screams. British earthquakes were long forgotten when the UK began building nuclear reactors in the 1960s, without anti-seismic reinforcement. Seismologists did their best to raise awareness. In 1983, The New Scientist placed an image on its cover of a cup of tea being thrown from its saucer, with the headline 'Is Britain Prepared for Earthquakes?' The Times responded with a dismissive editorial, insisting that the British 'have other things on their mind'. In the 2010s, reports of tremors in Lancashire were linked to hydraulic fracking, which can trigger earthquakes much as rising water levels do. The government placed a moratorium on fracking in 2019, but fear of a fuel shortage from the war in Ukraine has driven demands to lift it. Experts are still calculating the risks. The earthquakes that threaten southern Europe are roughly 100,000 times more powerful than the ones produced by fracking in the UK. Governments in the region rely on short-term forecasting to avert disaster. Following a deadly earthquake in L'Aquila, Italy in 2009, six seismologists were convicted of manslaughter because they had failed to warn the city of imminent danger. Although their convictions were overturned on appeal, the demand for earthquake forecasts has grown. This is a dangerous trend, since seismologists agree that there's no reliable method for predicting earthquakes. The only way to reduce risk is to avoid building near active faults and to enforce construction codes. The message is clear: facing up to seismic risk requires long-term planning. It also requires cooperation. The most destructive earthquake in Europe's history hit Sicily in 1908. It killed approximately half the residents of Messina and destroyed around 90 per cent of the city's buildings. The disaster struck as Europe's imperial powers seemed headed towards conflict. Just two months earlier, Austria had annexed Bosnia, fanning the flames that would lead to war in 1914. The humanitarian response to the earthquake was prompt and dramatic. Dozens of Russian, British, French, and American ships brought food, blankets, and construction materials. American workers built roughly 3,000 new homes for the survivors with material provided by the US government and the Red Cross. They did so with the explicit aim of promoting 'good feeling between the nations'. Two weeks after the disaster, the cover of a German satirical magazine featured a drawing of two demons, one commenting to the other: 'Everything was so beautifully prepared for a war. Then that meathead comes and makes an earthquake! The whole human race is fraternising again, and we've lost our chance.' Although the demon was sadly mistaken about the chance of war, the earthquake did inspire international partnership in the long term. The International Relief Union was founded in 1927 by a member of the Italian Red Cross who had dedicated several months to recovery work in Messina in 1908. There he learned that responding to disasters would require an unprecedented degree of international coordination. Earthquake preparedness also calls for cooperation with the public. One of the surest ways to collect information about seismic risk while raising public awareness is to encourage citizens to take science into their own hands. Ironically, Europeans tended to be more seismically savvy in the 19th century than today. Back then, scientists built their accounts of earthquakes largely from the eyewitness accounts of survivors. 'Likely in no other field is the researcher so completely dependent on the help of the non-geologist,' wrote one 19th-century geologist; 'and nowhere is the observation of each individual of such high value as with earthquakes… Only through the cooperation of all can a satisfying result be delivered.' Even today, the most sophisticated seismographs alone can't say how much damage a future temblor is likely to cause. That kind of information can only come from people on the ground sharing their observations. As I discovered by reading dusty letters between scientists and citizen observers for my book on the subject, a lively dialogue emerged in the 19th century about how best to live with seismic risk. Scientists learned what the readings of their instruments meant in terms of the felt experience of people on the scene, while observers developed a new curiosity about our dynamic planet. Reviving this dialogue could help Europe build a common language for earthquake safety today.
