Podcasting since 2004; Conversations, conflicts, adventures and monologues from around the world.
I’m on the road in Central Portugal… Aveiro to be exact. On family business. Posting will resume faster than you can say blueberry pancakes. Ok not that fast.
I leave you with a photo of BadHareDay’s kids, because they asked me “Are we going on your blog?”
5 years have passed since I was actually a resident of this city. Even though I return often, every visit to Lisbon brings more changes, with familiar places closing up and unfamiliar faces passing me in the street. It starts to feel as though I no longer belong and there is nothing left to belong to.
But then I find myself walking up the steep hill of the Bica, and heading into the even steeper streets of the bairro alto, in search of a little place for food and life. Asking the average restaurants for a table for one on a friday night gets me turned away disturbingly often. No room. Too many reservations.
And then I turn a corner I haven’t turned in 4 years or so, only to find an unfamiliar little eatery. Looking more like someone’s tiny living room than a restaurant, I notice the menu offers numerous creative vegetarian options. And inside it is hard to tell who works there and who is a customer, and everyone seems to be talking with everyone, and the waitresses sit down and share laughs with people as they eat. One of two gorgeous twins spots me from the moment I walk in and greets me like an old friend she has been waiting for. “What’s your name?” — she wants to know my name, and after I tell her that, a few more questions follow… which she promptly relays my answers to the twin and the spanish bartender. The twin comes over to bring me some wine, “So you’re visiting family, in town from Amsterdam eh? And you’re not even Dutch, but actually Luso American!”… I amazed by both the amount of info she had soaked up in the 4 minutes I had been there, and by her warm smile.
It was only the beginning to what would become one of those Lisbon evenings that reminds me of what is so special about this city and why so many good people, including myself once upon a time, make their lives here. German couple at the table next to me start chatting with me. The neighbor walks in and sits down next to me, asking about the Ralph Nader book I have on the table next to me. A kid wearing pink shoes and a pink shirt comes sailing through the doorway, kissing almost everyone in the restaurant hello, sits down at a table across from me. A restaurant wide conversation seemed to ensue, featuring 3 or 4 languages.
One of the twins sits down at my table as I finish my tea, her friendly eyes show clear signs of exhaustion. I ask her about it, and she talks about the long hours that she works everyday, just to make ends-meat in this town. – a different kind of reminder, of why many people DON’T make their lives in this town.
Soon after there are more people floating in and others walking out, friday night and it feels like everybody knows everybody, and my lovely twins make sure that from now on, they know me.
While my evening ends about there, the story does not. After lots of hugs and kisses, I know I’ve made some wonderful new friends in my former home, and I know of one place where I’m expected, from now on.
Over dinner, BadHareDay and I discuss everything two friends can discuss.. just like old times. He taught me about the 12 official languages of South Africa, which are extremely difficult to list… and then we got into the upcoming vote on the abortion issue here in Portugal. I’m working on getting photos of the billboards of the YES and NO campaigns.. it is really both fascinating and comical… so stay tuned for that.
But this post is my goodbye to the fair city in 2006. And that was what this evening was all about… stepping out on the town with a good friend, eating dinner at one of the few dirt cheap local holes in the wall, and heading to Ler Devagar (Read Slowly) the finest bookstore that serves wine and tea til all hours of the night. Tonight was the big book sale where prints from 1975 were going for around 1 euro a-piece; good times! Afterwards we walked around the Bairro Alto, which is just like we used to do back in the day. To finish off the evening, a trip down to the municipal market to try and drink some hot cocoa from the all-night Cocao da Ribeira. It turned out to be closed, but again.. it was the thought that counted. Thoughts that take me back to 2002.. when work wasn’t easy or well paid, but I lived the Lisbon life.
It is good to know I can still relive the glory and that even in 2006.. there are still places in Lisbon where I can walk in and the chef comes out to shake my hand, the waitress knows my favorite drink, and the cutey at the bank knows my name by heart. This town may seem a little intimidating at night, and life might not be easy here in Portugal, but there is still plenty to be said for Lisbon as one of the finest cities I’ve ever known.. and loved.
Here I sit… 3 houses down from my parents place… engine running.. heat on… laptop on crotch… this is what it takes be a dedicated blogger in this town. Hot dam.
I’ve clearly left Lisbon and it is, as always, an internet jungle out here. Just got kicked out of the Youth Center-Cafe where I had only sat for 30 minutes before they were telling me to hit the road, not that i care, that fascist place firewalls my website. Imagine that? Internet Porn and Bicylemark.org… thats not right. Both of those should not be censored.
Before it gets to dam cold with the engine off… i wanted to tell a brief story:
Today I had lunch at the pump house.. to see my darlng Elsa. Ive blogged of how much I love her before.. she and I go sooo way back and its amazing to see how we’ve both aged and life has changed.. yet whenever Im here I end up right there in that pub.. and there she is ready to leap from behind the bar and give me a big hug and she knows my flavor of iced tea and loves to tell me about her love life. And thats how it has always been.. since I was teenager and she was this super cool bartender.
As I sat eating, the cook came to sit with me. Ive noticed him only in the last year or so.. looks british.. might be eastern european, I aways figured, from his style. Turns out he’s polish and we got to speaking about a certain town in Poland that Im trying to do a podcast on the mayor.
Turns out he’s also a journalist, just cooking to pay the bills (soon I will too!). He was talking about how opposite Portugal is from Poland, and how he can’t explain it.. but that I must simply go there to see and feel it. He also spoke about how there is only about one town where people walk with their heads held high(!). According to him, most people are disillusioned with everything and either planning to leave or walking around in a rut. This general mood is said to be reflected in politics, where I went on and on about how fickle the electorate is and how they change there minds about politicians so fast, no one has enough time to ever impliment any programs; good or bad.
Unexpectedly interesting conversation at my favorite pub. Which gave me more fuel and inspiration for the Wroclaw Mayor podcast (working on it) and confirmed any thoughts I had about needing to visit that country ASAP.
Time to get out of this car.
Im editing video of my most unique day near Cascais. Plus its 240am and Ive just returned from drinks with unexpected friends, old and mostly new.
So for now, here’s photo