Don’t you, forget about me

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The tiny text at the bottom of each post, that’s how to tell who’s writing. Cause surprise, surprise, I managed to get on the net! All-be-it using a paper cup, some string, and a little kid named Manuel on the roof holding an antenna. I figure the kid can hold it steady just long enough for me to read Blonde But Bright, and Flip through the Village Voice. I obviously suck at being on vacation since I am not happy without the internet.

Greetings from Portugal, more specifically Caldas da Rainha, at my parents’ place which somehow also has my name on the mailbox. I’ve just returned from “the” Algarve. No idea why anglophones insist on using the article “the” before Algarve. But they do. It’s their place anyway, everything is in english down there. The only language more widely spoken than english in southern Portugal is golf. Everyone speaks it. Clubs, courses, ranges, department stores, you name it, its got golf in it. Something tells me my brother and I should be in opposite places, he’s the golfer of the family.

At any rate, I can’t reflect on much more today, time is of the essence. I’m off to Lisbon in a fortnight (is that how you use that term?) and then I’ll be in “MY” place. In the meantime I just keep thinking how ironic vacations are, people go to escape the “crowds” and they arrive in their paradises only to find all the same people they were escaping. Not to mention the horror that flying has become. No longer an expression of freedom and convenience, flying will soon compete with taking a boat in terms of time required and overall hassle.

So I take my leave of you, but leave you in the obviously capable hands of Big Daddy J.

Today’s Music: What I think is the Moscow Symphany Orchestra on Portuguese public tv 2

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