I’m not a guest here
These hotel people can’t handle me. I sneak into there lobby and when they ask who I am… if they even ask.. I say I’m waiting for someone.. and I’m a journalist and there’s going to be an interview. After that they never ask with who, which is good because I run out of bullshit.
Greetings from Lisbon, Portugal sports fans. Where Wi-Fi is more privatized then…. umm… something private. I’m paying a pretty penny for this quality time, and while I write lots of new podcasts are being sucked into my beautiful powerbook.
I’m such an outsider here now. I realized that this morning when I woke up with the roosters crowing (yes we have roosters in lisbon where I live) and went to the bus station that no longer exist. I walked right up to the dark and abandoned building, as if in denial, I tried to open the door anyway. Who knows, maybe there was just 1 bus left waiting for me. – Apparently not. Missed my bus, and hereby forced to wait two more hours to see my moma and papa, who have hidden themselves away in a tiny corner of the Algarve, right on the border with spain.
I’ve lots of topics to discuss, economics, politics, human relations, metro ettiquette…. it all rushes through my head as I get around town. One thing for sure, Amsterdam is in no way a big city, compared to this place. Never in Amsterdam am I completely inundated and engulfed by a mass of people walking in the opposite direction. Here.. it happens constantly. Oh bicycle, I miss thee already.
No photos yet. Podcast is in the pipe if Id find the time to put it together. And hooray for Lance, a true bicycle hero. Rumor has it, he’s going to run for gov. of texas! How cool would that be, a governer of texas who speaks french and owns a passport. BREAKTHROUGH.