portugal – Page 20 – Citizen Reporter

Grass is Greener

At the fishtank today, I sat down to lunch with mrs toronto’s greatest chef in exile. The man himself was doing his thing in the kitchen. He feeds the fish all summer long. But the conversation at lunch today was one that I immediately thought to bring on the communique.

Frisbeee

At one point we were discussing how many Dutch people complain about how everything is “boring” here. Trams run on time, pay checks are decent, things generally work… which apparently gets annoying. You’ll often hear them plotting to move to Spain or Italy, where they believe the laid back pace is the perfect way to life.
On the other hand, I mentioned, many if not most people in Portugal get utterly fed up with buses not showing up on time, crap salaries, and generally how things don’t work. They talk of moving to richer countries, like the UK or France.

Grass is greener on the other side? I don’t think so… I think some people just don’t appreciate how good they’ve got it while the rest of the world dreams of having such a situation.

Hmm.. no linkage today…. thats rare.

Generation Debt

One of the reasons I left the united states had to do with debt. No – I didn’t owe any. No I wasn’t in trouble with the mob (hell, I was their favorite reporter). But the mere fact that I didn’t have any type of debt made me an exception – a weirdo. Everyone around me, neighbors, friends, strangers – all had debt.

The kind I knew about was the credit card kind. Tons of friends had it, I almost felt left out. At university there were always tables set up offerring students crack in exchange for a new mastercard with a picture of a forest on it. I was tempted by the forest. I had friends who just needed a new tshirt, so they filled out the paperwork. But for some odd reason, I never accumilated debt.

To me it was inevitable. If I stayed around, in this environment, where debt was a way of life, I would ultimately get some. Which some people would tell me, would be a good thing. – I admit, I’m no economist – but I still didn’t want any, and I worried at how normal it was.

So bam — I moved to Europa. Portugal first, where most transactions were paid through my bankcard (debit). If I didnt have the money, I wouldn’t buy it. No choice in the matter really. Then here in Amsterdam, again – the beautiful bank card. Admitedly, I’ve tried to get a credit card here, but aparently my laughable salary isn’t enough to have the right to get one. Makes me laugh at those college years, where all I needed was a pulse.

But I’m known to be crazy. Where are you all in relation to debt? Me, Im 25 and I feel lucky, I still have none. Course some things don’t change, like so many – I barely get by.

Wrong Place Wrong Time

There was a time when I was always in the middle of it. The demonstrations, the political discussions, the cool mob-related scandles… THOSE were the days. I even had my Israeli manufactured gas-mask shipped to me in Europe, to be prepared for all those protests and other rebellious events, I would be attending over here.

But four years on – nothing. During an EU summit in seville, I missed the activist bus, which was turned away at the border with spain anyway. For all the anti-war demos I attended in the Netherlands, it was so calm and organized, I don’t remember seeing any police. Add to that, the general feeling of skepticism that has set in, for anything related to the democratic process and the masses; its clear I haven’t attended a crazy event in ages.

And then I hear about meetings like What the Hack, which will take place in the south of the netherlands next month, while Im in portugal, and I think to myself… dammit. I want to camp for a weekend with international hackers, and make networks out of coconut shells and that sort of thing. But then, just to pour salt on my boring wounds, I read about the Hack-Train they’ve rented, which will be travelling through Germany to the NL passing through various conventions relating to technology and rebellious society…. a TRAIN! dam dam dam. I’m never in on the action anymore.

AudioComm #45 – Dad Remembers Dictatorship

AudioCommunique #45(mp3)

25min+, 64kbps, 12Mb+

Notes:

1 AudioCommunique #45 – Dad Remembers Dictatorship
1.1 Today’s Show features my father’s experience immigrating from Portugal to the US in the 60’s, and more specifically; what it was like to live under a dictatorship.
1.2 First I have to mention listener mail; Brandon in China, Lotte in Amsterdam, Frank of the Overnightscape, its so cool to get email from other shows.
1.3 I miss VivaPodcast… come back Greg and Lisa!
2 On the Skype with Dad
2.1 Portugal and the fascist regime in the 1950’s.
2.2 Clandestine Behavior by doctors, students, etc.
2.3 Poor but happy
2.4 The decision to move to the US
2.4.1 The draft for the colonial wars in Africa and India. (Angola, Mozambique, Guinea-Bissau, and what was almost a war in Goa, India.
2.5 Newark. NJ over the decades
2.6 Familiar ingredients of fascism in the US.

Old School

I went to grammar school (primary) in the lovely city of Newark, NJ. Not just any school, I went to a Polish Catholic school, since it was right across from where dad worked, and the leftover bastion of polish catholic strictness went well with the values of Portuguese brand catholicism. Something about the pulling of ears and wrapping over the knuckles with rulers that was supposed to be good for us.

Fortunately in my day, the revolution of personal liability lawsuits was beginning, so we students quickly learned the keyphrase “you hit me with that ruler and my parents will sue you.” Not that we ever said it directly, but after someone would get hit, a few days later, we’d get one of those long term substitute teachers.

But the wacky thing about this school wasn’t the phsyical abuse. Or the compulsery friday masses we’d have to attend in polish. Or that part of the school that was closed off and we all knew was haunted by dead students; murdered for talking during class.

The truely crazy thing about our school was we the students. In our brown pants and yellow shirts, we were mostly Portuguese kids, with some South American kids, sprinkled with some of the left over Polish (from Newark’s polish era) kids and the occasional Italian kid. Any time I went to the coat closet I could smell the aroma of a few dozen cuisines, my own reaking of whatever codfish we had last night. We’d speak English to each other, of course, determined to be what we thought was American. We watched the TV shows, begged our parents for the toys and other material things. Trying not to stick out, I think that was our thing.

I think about it alot when I tell people about my childhood. Despite having to attend hours and hours of Portuguese school and hearing only portuguese at home and on the street, so many of my generation woke up one day and just decided to close the book. They stuck to english and quit portuguese school. They refused to go to portugal for the summer and took up one of those sports like Baseball or Hockey that our parents had very little understanding of. Some might say it is a natural occurance when you’re raised with so many different influences in New Jersey. Natural or not… I just find it to be a huge thing… to be the person or generation that ends a tradition. That closes the book on languages or customs, and embraces new ones as theirs, while refusing to ever look back on their days in brown pants, yellow shirts, and cod fish dinners.

PT Gone Wild

As much as I consider myself an informed brother , with all the whistles and bells coming out of my beloved powerbook, I admit to you dear readers — I haven’t been reading Portuguese news. It’s a bit shameful because, besides being a citizen, I used to follow events very closely, just like I used to go back there like 3 times a year. But times have changed, money has been tight, and those dam newspapers took a while to get RSS, which is an automatic turn off for the nerd in me.

So when I finally flipped open my favorite portuguese newspaper this week, I was shocked to find the whole place has gone wild this summer. And it all begins with record breaking, burst-into-flames temperatures around 100 degrees (30+ Celcius), and the accompanying forest fires that have become tradition. Add to that, the father of the Portuguese communist party, who fought so hard and was imprisoned by the dictatorship, died this week.

But it isn’t all bad news. This year in general has had a few bright spots for my homeland. And Im not talking about that dam European Championship either. First, despite his extreme mediocrity, they selected the former prime minister as the president of the EU commission, which in retrospect could explain all the failures lately. Then, I just heard, another former prime minister (a more intellegent one) took over the job of High Commissioner for Refugees at the United Nations. May not seem like much to you, but that’s a very important body in a world that creates more refugees every year. Not to mention for a little country like Portugal.

What better time to announce my travel plans: as per tradition – July 25th to August 10th I shall be in Portugal. Anyone want to meet in Lisbon? I know where there’s good WIFI and tons of soundseeing to be done.