Tolstoy said, “All great literature is one of two stories: a man goes on a journey or a stranger comes to town.”
Let’s go on a journey together to… Lisbon.
The first evening of the conference is spent in the hills of Colares, an hour’s drive from Estoril. Our personable tour guide recounts the incredible life story of Baron Bodo von Bruemmer. The story unfolds in 4 acts.
Bodo, a Swiss businessman in his late 50s, receives a serious medical diagnosis. He re-evaluates his life and seeks a warm, agreeable place to see out his days. He purchases this land in 1962, which later becomes the Casal de Santa Maria wine estate.
Having recovered and outlived his wife, he turns to wine in his mid-nineties. He had beaten the medical diagnosis once; it returned. He plants these very vineyards, despite having no previous experience.
By the time we leave the third stop, overlooking the Sauvignon Blanc, the Baron is in his late nineties and actively moving towards the first wine. Would he make it? I’m rooting for him; we all are as we reach the Chardonnay.
The final stop and the fourth act, looking towards the Atlantic. The guide continues. Bodo sees and tastes his first glass of wine. He died in 2016, aged 105. His family still run the estate and produces 80,000 bottles of wine a year.
Bodo puts the following on each wine label, and it’s still there today: “It’s never too late.” Baron Bodo Bruemmer.
At any conference social event, essentially a networking opportunity, you need to be at your A game. “Who are you with? What do you do?”
Maybe it’s the heady atmosphere, the rolling vineyards, the lush hills, the Atlantic breeze, the Bodo story, and plenty of wonderful wine… I’m tuned up… the only thing missing is the Phil Collins soundtrack.
“Who are you with? What do you do?” I can’t resist…
“I work as a doctor in a paediatric hospital, caring for sick children, and at weekends as a volunteer at an animal sanctuary, helping sick animals. And you…”
“It’s a bit strange that you’re at an AI, Cyber, and Security conference.”
“You mean this isn’t a medical conference, damn…”
She smiles; we clink glasses filled with the Baron’s fine wine, the ice broken.
The next morning, at 06:30. Remember, readers, we are here together for this run. First point: why did you let me drink all that wine…
Time and tide… come on, let’s go. This morning, I have the ‘James Bond run’ for you. Later, the ‘James Bond evening’ with dinner at this fine hotel in Estoril.
OK, let me explain. Ian Fleming stayed here during the war, and Estoril served as the setting for his first novel, Casino Royale.
I’m feeling a little rough. Let’s jog to the famous casino. It opened in 1931. 007 battled the baddie, Le Chiffre, at baccarat right here.
Portugal was neutral during WW2. Estoril was where spies on both sides, diplomats, European royalty, refugees, political exiles, and other colourful characters mingled in the bars and casinos. Fleming was believed to have taken note of it all. Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson moved to Estoril in 1940, before Edward became Governor of the Bahamas.
Jogging here, one gets that espionage feel. Let’s head down through the park to the ocean and the train station.
The plan was to take the train into Lisbon, but time is tight, so… plan B is to jog along the promenade towards Cascais.
A few pictures, then back for brekkie.
Well, here we are at the famous Palacio Estoril Hotel, the venue for the conference. This is the bar where it all happened back in the day. Fleming used the bar then, both in real life and in the book. The hotel and surrounding area were also used for filming On Her Majesty’s Secret Service.
This Portuguese beer is hitting the spot. It’s been a good day. I’m enjoying the feeling that washes over one from time to time, that moment of fulfilment. If this were back in the day, in 1969, I could see myself smoking a pipe. When I play tennis, I somehow hit a backhand winner just like Roger Federer - dreamy.
Today’s equivalent of fulfilment. I’m in Starbucks, I’ve ordered, and the barista has the pen poised above the cup.
“My name… oh, my name is Spartacus.” Be confident. Say it with conviction and hold someone’s gaze. Just need one more, and then the coffee shop unites as one. If the barista plays ball, there’s a second chance when the drink is called.
“Americano for Spartacus.” Pause… “I’m Spartacus.” Then, if you have a wingman… you get the picture.
As Clint once said, “Don’t let the old man in.”
This evening, in this bar, in this setting, is inspiring this post. I’m sat here with you all for company, jotting down some ideas.
“Outra Sagres, por favor?” — “Sim, obrigado. Saúde!”
Gracias a… Blofeld, Pussy Galore, Miss Moneypenny, M, Q, Le Chiffre… and others I can’t remember.
What a great trip. See you on the next one.
The Baron. "I’m Spartacus."
O Fim.
