The Sound & The Fury...

Today marked a cultural first for me here in Portugal, I went to the theatre here for the first time (first time in Portugal that is, obviously), but more on that later, I'll first recount an interesting weekend.

It's been my first weekend after starting work and obviously with all the changes and goings-on it has been rather draining so I wasn't too enthused about the prospect of an action packed weekend. Luckily for me there are plenty of activities right on my doorstep and after her own hard week S was very much in agreement on this point.

As usual Saturday morning was spent guiltily getting my lie-in whilst S was at her classes but I hadn't forgotten my deal to keep the flat tidy which is only fair really. One of the hardest things about moving in with someone is adjusting to the other person's level of cleanliness. We all have different tolerances for tidiness and hygiene. This obviously also changes over time too, I have lived in some horrible dank pits in my student days where washing up would remain undone until you were almost at the 'eating scrambled eggs from a shoe with a comb' phase. (NB. please see Black Books for references). There were also issues in student houses I have lived in regarding entire bottles of red wine spilled on the carpet, burns of varying sizes and causes on all soft furnishings, empty bottles littering the place (I believe in my first student house we counted over 60 empty red wine bottles as we moved out and that was just what we hadn't thrown out, but I stand to be corrected on that). But, thankfully, times have changed. Those days of slobbery are now behind me, I've lived on my own for over a year and my own tolerance of cleanliness is now quite high. This is fortunate as so is S's

I remember I think either just before or just after I moved in there was a (semi perhaps) serious concern that S voiced where she asked me to confirm that I would help out around the house. It stuck with me not because I doubt that S has faith in me, she saw my flat in Manchester enough times to realise that I wasn't just cleaning it up for her, but it was a more general concern that the guys she knows here and the fact that they don't really do much around the house. All her girl friends complain about it. I'm not sure how valid this is across the country but I do suspect it to be fairly prevalent, from my own experience too. I think in the UK guys are generally more 'modern' for want of a better word. I'm not afraid to put a pinney on and do my fair share, in fact in the kitchen I really do prefer to do everything (I'm sure S resents being kicked out of a place she once used to dominate) but I really do see it as my domain now. I think there is a tendency for guys here to be 'mothered' a lot more than the UK and most definitely a lot more than I was. I do consider myself to be quite um homem moderno.

Cleaning aside there were some plans for yesterday as we were finally going to go to the library which is across the street from us. The Municipal Library here is located in a very beautiful old building called the Palácio Galveias, here is the front of it-



We actually live behind it, here are a couple of views from our balcony -





The garden is very pretty, especially in the summer when these photos were taken and when it is filled with peacocks that kindly (or not depending on how much sleep you want) provide the neighborhood with an alarm clock.

S had been in the flat, metres from the place, for nearly two years without ever setting foot in the library but was finally convinced by a combination of my persistence and the fact that upstairs there was a rather interesting looking exhibition of Finnish illustration for children's literature. It was only a small exhibit, just four rooms but I thought it was exceptionally well done and some of the images were amazing. I love children's literature, something I inherited from my mum and the pictures on display here were very much of the kind that don't patronise children. There are no 'cartoons' but well expressed drawings, many did tell a story but I think that the most important thing in many of them was what was absent, allowing the imagination to flow. It was interesting seeing them on the walls, out of context of the books that many of them were drawn for, and without the words and stories they were designed for. We were very lucky to catch the exhibition as I think it's only around for another couple of days. I also managed to get an impromptu Portuguese lesson as I went round translating all the titles of the works.

After the library we had arranged to go round to J & R(J)'s for dinner. I have to admit that at first the idea didn't thrill me, I was tired and I just wanted a stress free, chilled out evening but in the event I had a really good time. Dinner was just chicken, salad and potatoes with an excellent cake for desert. The conversation was nice and relaxed and then we just all sat down together to watch a film. R(J) had just got a new harddrive media player linked to his TV so as he downloads most of the films he watches he can just put them on there. I wasn't hugely thrilled with the selection on off (Saw V anyone?!?) but in the end we decided to watch The Fall which was not bad, some beautiful cinematography and stunning settings but was a little unsatisfactory in the end. I was just left wondering what really was the point of the film other than as an excuse to show all the wonderful settings...still...better than Saw V.

The journey home was memorable for all the wrong reasons unfortunately. As you can just make out on the last photo of the library we were making our way in the car across that junction at about 1:30-2:00am the light turned green for us and we set off only to almost smash into a car going at about 80mph through the red light out of the tunnel (which is just obscured by the building). The exit of the tunnel onto the junction is completely blind so S had no time to react whatsoever and I'm really not exaggerating to suggest that a second either way and the crash would have been fatal. I was incensed and S was obviously extremely shaken. She had to stop as soon as possible, despite only being metres from home, and take a few deep breaths. I was eager for her to race around to the next junction where we might catch them and I could have a few choice words for them but it was probably not wise at that point as I was so mad I think I could've killed them with my bare hands. I might laugh and joke and exaggerate about the driving here but a lot of the time it is no laughing matter, it's dangerous and a scandal that the police just look the other way.

After the scare yesterday S unfortunately had more driving to do today as we went to the parents' for lunch again. It was only really going to be a quick visit to drop things off that had been left after the birthday party but it turns out that S's mum had been sneakily preparing a meal for us and she's convinced that I'm too thin. It was really nice to spend time with them anyway and I do really appreciate the way they've accepted me into the family. So it was with mixed feelings that we had to dash off because we had other plans.

Earlier in the week I had proudly purchased (in my best Portuguese, without a bit of English!) two tickets to see The Sound and the Fury at Culturgest which is a theatre attached to the huge bank building at the end of our street (the rather fascistic building you see on the right of the last library photo). The play was going to be in English and I had read the novel before so it was cheating but I was still looking forward to it.

I have been to Culturgest a number of times now and it is a really good venue putting on a wide range of interesting cultural events. My favourite by far has so far been the Lisbon Documentary festival last year which I very much hope will be on again this year.

For this performance they were using the main auditorium which holds maybe 600-700 but in order to make the experience more intimate they had constructed a smaller and steeper bank of seating directly in front of the stage. It was a good job because the performance was so intense and required such a lot of concentration it was good to be as close to the stage as possible. Those of you who know the novel will appreciate that The Sound and the Fury would not be an easy play to adapt for the stage and so it proved. They had dispensed with the last three quarters to concern themselves with the first complete day of the novel. The sense of disjointed time and incoherence was achieved by having the actors playing several characters throughout the play (without regard to sex or race) and by having large parts read by actors at various times. This was combined with sections of loud music and dancing and had quite a shocking, almost tiring effect overall.

I don't think the play was bad but I couldn't get rid of the feeling that (like the film seen last night) it was produced just to be able to say that it had been. I thought the performances from the actors, especially the woman who played Benjy for the majority of the play, were very good (with the exception of the 'girl' who played mother for the large part, she hammed it up a little) and the set design was very good, although it felt like they had in some way limited themselves by having quite an overstocked mise-en-scene when perhaps something more minimalist would have given them more scope for imagination.

It's back to work tomorrow and whilst it's been a reasonably packed weekend I do feel quite rested and it's good to get the old grey cells ticking in many different ways as otherwise I think things could feel quite stressed.

Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work I go...

So today was my first day at work and my head is spinning! I've encountered so many names, faces and nationalities in such a short space of time that I don't know how I'm going to remember everyone.

When I first come up with the plan to move to Lisbon it was agreed that I wouldn't do so without some plan to further my career, I wouldn't just do the typical bar work or teaching English (at least with nothing to back it up). Luckily for me there exists in Lisbon an EU Agency in exactly my field. Unfortunately jobs come up here rarely and those that do are competed over ferociously, the wages are excellent (especially given the comparatively low average wage in Portugal) and it really is a centre of excellence in the field. I thought that the best route for me would be to apply for an internship (or 'stagier' if you're European) and in this way I can gain experience, make contacts and discover how the operation works. The internships were themselves keenly fought over and I spent months waiting for a response but after an interview I finally found that they wanted me and that I could start work in the New Year - they even had a project in mind for me, so I wouldn't just be making the coffee.

Anyway that was the background but today was my first day so I obviously had those 'first day' butterflies and I genuinely had nothing but a very vague outline as to what it was I would be doing. I'm now none the wiser but at least I know my colleagues don't bite.

The Agency is split into two offices, one in Santa Apolónia where the Directorate, the Communications and Administration departments are based and one office near Anjos metro station where the scientific departments are based. Luckily for me Anjos is perfectly within walking distance from the flat for me and so it's good exercise, if not a little dangerous to get to work. Before I came to Lisbon I had the idea to ride a bike to and from work and I've still not completely given up on the idea. It was originally ridiculed by the people here but I think my points have some validity - The traffic in rush hour moves pretty slowly and the hills are no problem (I'm not that unfit). I'm deferring the decision but already I have heard tell of a number of colleagues who cycle in so I'll have to get tips from them.

The first day (as ever) is really about orientation. There are two colleagues who are supposed to be guiding me but they're both very busy at the moment so I haven't had much of a chance to meet with them although we have arranged for a meeting next week to discuss my project in detail.

Today was spent being taken round the 4 floors of this building that the Agency occupies, I got to see my own office, which is huge...if I get the chance I will have to take a picture. It's not all mine, I share it will a pleasant Italian girl who does a job that I don't completely understand, but everyone here shares an office. I'll miss the open plan feel though, we used to have some good banter going on in Manchester.

The Agency itself is very mixed, there are people here from all over the EU and the working language is thankfully English, which everyone speaks to an excellent standard but which of course is a condition of working here. I have been told that I had better dust off my French and Spanish too as they will be very helpful in reading reports. This is slightly worrying as my French and Spanish is at a very low level by now but I'm sure I will pick things up quickly, especially if it's something I'm doing on a daily basis.

Tomorrow it is the annual staff meal in Ajuda, thoughtfully I have been included in the numbers so it will be an excellent opportunity to meet people in an informal setting and really get 'the skinny' on how this place works. It's been such an intense day though that I really feel I'm dead on my feet so more will have to wait until tomorrow.

The Portuguese character part 1...

The Portuguese in his natural habitat is a creature defined by a striking dichotomy. On the street, in a bar or cafe, in the office or behind a desk they move like they have all the time in the world. Walking the streets of Lisbon you will often find queues of foreigners, giddy with an eagerness to absorb the sights and sounds of this marvelous city, forming behind slow moving tugas gently puffing on their cigarettes, making their way between their 14:00 bica and their 15:00 bica. In offices across the country emails go unanswered for days, weeks, years, telephones ring off their hooks and paperwork piles ever higher.

Yet put said same Portuguese in a car and there is suddenly no time to lose! Red traffic lights are a signal to accelerate to speeds never imagined by the car's designers, other vehicles are mortal enemies who have somehow offended the family honour and pedestrians are nothing but mobile speed bumps designed to slow them down and spoil their fun.

I am constantly wondering why the streets aren't always littered with the mangled wrecks of Smart cars and the less agile pedestrians. Perhaps salvage trucks make their way through the city nightly, clearing the streets of metal and blood, in fact that does make sense as I have set to see a single advert calling for blood donations and Smart cars are breeding like flies at the moment, I suspect thousands are simply made from the surviving parts of their fallen brothers.

More will have to be said about slow moving Portuguese people as it's a constant irritation for me, S and anyone else here who actually has to be anywhere but unfortunately it will have to wait for another time as I'm late - I was stuck in a people jam for 20 minutes this afternoon, the pavements were terrible.

Parabéns a vôce (part 2)...

The past few days have seen S return to work and me take to the streets of Lisbon alone for the first time since my arrival. This is only partly true as by 'take to the streets' I generally mean do my daily walk to S's work at lunch time and at home time. It's the walk I've done most frequently in the months I've been visiting Lisbon and there's something new I discover every time I walk the streets. I change the route from time to time so that I fully know the grid of streets that surrounds our apartment and every time I make the journey it reminds me what a wonderful area, in a wonderful city that I live in.

What hasn't been wonderful at the moment though is the weather. I'm really not one to whinge about the weather (I come from Manchester, I have partly developed gills) but the recurring theme of the past few days has been the intense cold in the flat. Anyone reading this back in the UK will probably be chuckling now when I say that it's got as low as 8 degrees but these flats are freezing, everything is marble or tile and most places are still single glazed. It's quite funny to be shuffling round the flat here with 3 jumpers on thinking of myself at my mum's where I'd have to run around turning the heating off.

So that was the end of last week, Thursday and Friday

Saturday meant classes for S who is returning to her MA course after the Christmas break. I think she had enjoyed this break probably more than the break from work as the MA has been quite a big disappointment for her.

When I met her one of the main reasons why it was infinitely more practical for me to come to Lisbon rather than for her to join me in the UK was the fact that she was about to embark on an MA in Political Science at the Universidade Nova de Lisboa. It was something she was really looking forward to because of a deep personal interest in politics and international relations as well as being a great opportunity to advance her career

The problem was that when she started the course she very quickly realised that the faculty and the course were not what she was expecting. The standard of both the teaching and the facilities were much much lower than she was lead to believe they would be. It was all rather depressing, and got to the point where she was spending 15 hours a week (after a full working week) in a mustard coloured lecture theatre being droned at by professors who didn't even know their subjects particularly well and who certainly couldn't present them well.

But that's enough of the negativity because yesterday was S's birthday and a time for celebration. I'm a gentleman so I won't mention which birthday and all photographs that show the total number of candles on the cake have been appropriately censored (Photoshop is a wonderful thing). Suffice it to say that S is a number of years older than me and wasn't entirely thrilled about spending the day dwelling on this. Unfortunately for her though she is Portuguese and as such there are certain obligations she has to fulfill. One of the most important of these is having a fuss made of you by family and friends, eating lots of food and generally being polite to people when all you want to do is stay in bed and weep for your lost youth.

The preparation of the party was something akin to a military campaign, watches were synchronised, the (future) parents-in-law were mobilised, the flat was scrubbed and tidied and we prepared to have every item of crockery dirtied.

We were expecting maybe 20 people over which isn't a huge number but then again we don't have a massive apartment so it was always going to be a little cosy. Seating was going to be at a premium and we had had to call in reinforcements for plates and cutlery. These duly arrived with the parents-in-law at about 17:00 along with enough food to feed an army. How they managed to get all the stuff in their tiny car along with Aunty T I will never know but we were well stocked with rissóis, croquetes, bacalhau, pork, feijoada, cake, other desserts, wine, water, juice, fruit, flowers... S's father and I knew that so much preparation had gone into this that our presence there would only have been a hindrance so as another stepping stone on my ongoing immersion into Portuguese culture we did that most typical of Portuguese things and left the women to it whilst we went and had a beer and watched Benfica.

I do still have some of that inbuilt Englishness in me and I did make at least the effort to protest and offer my services but under the strict and organised direction of S's mother things looked more than under control so me and the father went to Campo Pequeno, bought some black beers and settle down to watch the football. It was a very manly experience which I thoroughly enjoyed, this is a very macho culture and something which I am not really at all accustomed to. Whenever I have participated in these kind of rituals in the UK it has always been almost as someone playing a part, and it was no different here really but I do think it is an important part of assimilating and I really do enjoy spending time with S's father who is a very interesting man.

We strolled back at half time with Benfica being held 0-0 but after a stern phone call from S letting us know that people had started to arrive and out continued absence wasn't appreciated. (Although I think we were both enjoying playing roles there, me the delinquent man, she the nagging woman).

People had indeed begun to arrive, so many in fact that my usual habit of referring to initials would get extremely confusing but it is enough to say that all the usual suspects were there, it was a good turn out. Food was eaten, drinks drunk, I was perched awkwardly on the edge of the television table and the football scores were monitored, all in all it was a typical gathering of family and friends.

It was a good haul of presents for S (although she hates me using such terms), lots of vouchers for clothes shops, perfume and other girly stuff but the highlight was a weekend away in a hotel somewhere in Portugal. There are about 20 to chose from spread from the Algarve to Trás-os-Montes so we will have to look in detail at where we would really like to visit. Best of all it's valid for I think 6 months and so will provide a welcome retreat after the pressure of the academic year and me settling down. I also managed to replenish my whiskey supplies after S & R bought me a lovely bottle for my birthday which we promptly christened after the party.

The whole affair was very relaxed and the more of these things I attend the more I feel part of the family. We didn't get to bed too late as everyone had work the next day and today was back to the routine really. I'm starting to get butterflies now as I start work on Wednesday and I really don't know what to expect but I'm also very excited and I really can't wait to settle into my own routine here.

The Bunker...

Today was the last day before S returns to work so we wanted to make the most of it. We had made a list of thing that we wanted to do which ran to several pages but thankfully we have all the time in the world now and don't feel much pressure. We wanted to go to a gallery somewhere but also fancied a bit of a trip out so what we decided upon was a trip to the Bunker, aka CCB, aka Centro Cultural de Belém.

Modern architecture is one of the most controversial aspects of the modern city. Cities like Lisbon I think struggle in this regard because they are filled with such ancient treasures that monstrosities like the CCB can only seem like incongruous intrusions when they're landed next to such beautiful buildings as the Mosteiro dos Jerónimos.

For those not in know here's a comparison:


Now don't get me wrong, they're both beautiful buildings, just not next to each other. I would've said that the monastery could've probably done with some screen to protect it from the views of the river which seem to be exclusively semi-industrial (the people of Almada are so lucky because they get views of Lisbon). That said the CCB can't be completely derided as it's a great arts space. The complex houses exhibition spaces (both for art and business), theatre space and music rooms as well as the obligatory cafe and shop selling arty goods. So even if it does like a cleaned up World War 2 bunker complex it's a deeply interesting one.

The main exhibition has changed somewhat from when S first saw it and was an interesting collection of modern art. I won't say it was a great exhibition but it was certainly thought provoking. There was an interesting Bacon and some good Paula Rego's but a mundane Warhol along with some pedestrian video installations. By the last few galleries I was beginning to think that it really needed an editor as there was no control over the quality and some of the painting were not deserving of display. There were a couple of smaller galleries downstairs, one with a rather tedious take on Goya and the other (which was the highlight for me) an interesting constructivist exhibition featuring works by Joaquín Torres García and Maria Helena Vieira da Silva but after this I was very tired and in real need of a sit down. My art stamina is not what it once was.

For the sit down we decided to head over Pastéis de Belém and have a couple pastéis de nata and a coffee for me. The shop here, next to the monastery, is supposed to sell the best pastéis in Lisbon. That's attested by the sheer size of the place. On my previous visit to the place I did remark that it's the largest public lavatory I'd ever eaten a cake in but mockery doesn't go down well here. They take their cakes very seriously. I personally prefer other pastéis made in a little cafe in Estoril and S has yet another favourite which she has promised to take me to, I find the ones here if anything a little greasy and the pastry too thin but that's just my taste and the coachloads of tourists here seem to enjoy them. It's a place very much on most trourists' itinerary.

On our way to and fro the pastéis we did happen to catch rather a sad and shameful sight. Next to the Pastelaria was the second Starbucks to open in Portugal. This had rather swiftly followed the first which had opened in September in some distant retail park but this was was proudly on display and the saddest sight was that it was well patronised. There is absolutely no need for these chains in Portugal and one of my favourite things about the country was that (despite their obsession with malls) they have a strong and proud culture of supporting independant businesses, especially cafes, restaurants and bars in which excellent coffee, cakes and light meals are cheap. My block alone has a Pastelaria on each corner, my favourite being Namur.

There is some hope that this is a passing phase, McDonalds and Burger King exist here but certainly not to the exclusion of all others and they're seen as an exception rather than the ubiquitous presence in the UK.

So as this is the last evening before S returns to work and I can still get some attention in my direction I will leave this until later...

Até já.

Parabéns a você (part 1)...

Happy Birthday to me!

Today I turned 25 and it has been the best birthday I've had in a while. My birthdays are not usually a day of celebration so I was more than happy to have a day just relaxing, minimum fuss and maximum chilling. This was much to the consternation of S - here in Portugal birthdays are a big deal whether you like it or not. So when I first suggested that I just wanted to spend the day relaxing at home and then call out for pizza this was met with a combination of amazement and disbelief - how dare I be so selfish on my birthday as to not want a fuss made of me!

As I have been rather ill lately (I did indeed spend all of yesterday tucked up in bed, watching episode after episode of Jonathan Creek and teaching S to play Go - note to self - the wearing of body armour whilst playing board games with S is a necessary precaution) and extremely insistent about not wanting a fuss made I was largely successful in my aim for a relaxed birthday but I did have to make a number of concessions. We would need to leave the flat at some point and there would be no takeaway but we could make our own pizzas.

It has now taken me over 8 months to realise this but I am engaged to a ninja, either that or I was slipped something in my Ovaltine last night because S managed to successfully sneak out this morning to get my birthday card and cake without waking me and I'm not the heaviest sleeper in the world, especially in the morning. Here is a great photo of what I woke up to this morning:



After stuffing as much of the bola de Berlim as I could manage down me I got up and we went to the Oceanarium. I was thinking here that few things could be more relaxing than a couple of hours watching the fish and thankfully I was right.

The Lisbon Oceanarium is a relic of the Expo in 1998 which the area around undergoing a huge redevelopment. The Parque des Nações houses the Oceanarium, The Vasco da Gama Shopping centre (along with self cleaning roof) and tower, as well as some cable cars and evidently one of the most popular make-out spots for the teenagers of Lisbon.

The day was lovely and we saw the fish getting up their antics. The Oceanarium really is a must see for anyone visiting Lisbon for the first time, someone once told me it was the largest of its kind in Europe!

Here is me outside it:



After a couple of hours with the fish and the screaming children (including one unfortunate enough to be called Bruna) we decided to head home but not first with out an obligatory visit to the shopping centre. S had seen some brown boots that she was raving over and her parents had offered to get me something for my birthday so I decided to get another pair of pants - some rather funky checked ones. They're hard to describe but they look pretty good on (much to the surprise of S who had turned her nose up at them originally!) I also got a 'cowboy' shirt because I wanted something to wear on Saturday and S refuses to let me wear my rather tight one for fear that the poppers will explode thus exposing me to the masses.

When we got home we were pretty shattered but we still managed to make a couple of lovely pizza and now I'm about to settle down to finish off some Jonathan Creek and put my padding on for another couple of games of Go

Lazy Sunday with the parents...

The cold is steadily getting worse and worse now. I'm pretty much bed bound today and have no plans to leave the flat if I can possibly help it. My body has held on until I got here and now my immune system has had enough. I was really impressed that I managed to avoid all the bugs going round the office but the combined germs of the shopping centre and downtown have done for me.

I really don't feel like writing much today so I'll be brief and then I can return to my pit of self pity and scrunched up tissues.

Yesterday was a nice relaxing day with the in-laws again. It somehow (raised eyebrow here) got back to S's mum that I had a special liking for the way she cooked ribs so that was what we got. I feel very guilty because the I was also the one responsible for us having lamb for New Year so I really need to stop dictating what is cooked for us.

As expected the ribs were amazing, this time in some sauce with hints of garlic and tomatoe and of course served with plenty of punched potatoes but also this time with some creamed spinach and more carrots that I'd eaten in a long time. I love to heap on the vegetables at times like this. I was well looked after as I think S's mum thinks I've lost too much weight and so she was piling on second and third helpings. S's dad also opened a bottle of something rather interesting, a red vinho verde which was sweeter than I normally like my reds but fruity and went well with the meal. We just had a bit of fruit for desert as I think everyone was feeling the festive excesses and we had other plans...

After dinner we went down to the little cafe, Mimosa, near their flat for some coffee, pasteis de nata and to meet some friends. This was the first time I had met F, her husband and children (who were adorable!) but F had given me lots of advice in emails before I came. She's British and moved here about 15 years ago, works here and married a Portuguese man. She's given me lots of tips on finding work and settling in. I wanted to thank her and have a chat. I managed the first but the second was soon forgotten as we were entertaining her 6 year old daughter with origami and magic tricks and the sock monkey that S had made for her.

S learnt an important lesson there - the sock monkeys she makes might be made with love and care but they have to be pretty damn strong to survive the love of a 6 year old.

After the coffees and goodbyes we decided to go to see S's aunt and uncle who live nearby and who wanted to wish us congratulations. It was very touching how pleased they were for us and they'd even made a desert for us. The don't speak a word of English so communication was a bit stilted but I understood most of what was being said, it was just frustrating that I couldn't join in. I got to meet the huge cat they have too, although she seemed a bit grumpy at being woken to meet this strange Englishman. We stayed for about 20 minutes but it was getting quite cold, I was quite snotty and we were tired so we headed back.

On the way home we decided to stop by Parque Eduardo VII to see the Christmas tree which was still up. Last time I was in Lisbon before now was the day before they put the lights on so it was nice to see it in its full glory. we got out of the car and had a little walk, bought some chestnuts and sat on a park bench eating them. It was really a lovely moment despite people trying to sell us flashing neon necklaces. I can't wait to go back there for the book fair.

We got back in and S fancied watching something so we streamed some new American series called True Blood. It was ok, watchable but I don't think particularly memorable other than having Vinnie from Home & Away in it and having quite a lot of sex scenes in it. (Amusingly S had originally seen this with her dad.)

Right, I'm off to have a hot drink.

Survival of the sales part 2...

Yesterday was the day S and I braved downtown. Downtown Lisbon is lovely in moderation but as with any large cities Saturdays are when the streets get horribly crowded and the shops are impossible. We were feeling brave after the success of yesterday but my cold was getting worse by the minute to the point where all I could concern myself with was where the next tissue was coming from.

S and I are very lucky where we live because it's busy enough to always feel like there's something happening - we're a minute away from a great theatre cum gallery, there are at least 5 cinemas within walking distance as well as very good restaurants and 3 or 4 shopping centres, but it never feels too crowded. (except when we're looking for a parking space and there's a play on). We also have the metro at the end of our street which we took to Baixa.

I'll write more later about the Lisbon metro as it's more than deserving of a post of its own but by the time we got to Baixa the streets were full and it was already feeling a bit oppressive. The shops here are largely the same as the ones in the shopping centre but S had it in mind to dig out a pair of boots she'd been lusting after, as it turns out the shop didn't have them but I did end up getting a hoodie for around the flat as well as a pair of warm slippers because it's so damn cold at the moment.

I also managed to get a SIM card for my mobile so I finally have a Portuguese mobile number. Not that I really know anyone here other than S and her circle (and a couple of others) It will however save me a small fortune in receiving calls from the UK as well as sending messages there, it's still expensive but doesn't compare with what my old provider was charging me. We also tried to set up a landline at the Vodafone shop but the assitant didn't seem to know what she was talking about. We're thinking it's easier to arrange online or at least by ourselves rather than have to fix the meddlings of some woman.

I had hoped to go the the Nespresso shop whilst I was downtown but here the curious Portuguese solution to queueing came in useful. In many of the busier shops (mobile phone shops are particularly fond of this) they operate the system people in the UK are familiar with from the deli counter or Argos, you take a number and wait for it for it to show on the screen. Perhaps I don't go shopping in the right shops in the UK but it was a real curiosity when I came here. I just didn't understand why people didn't just queue up. One possible explaination came when I tried to buy coffee and the number that came out was over 200 places behind what was on the screen. I could've quite easily wandered the streets for an hour and come and taken my place again in the shop but instead I decided to leave it for another day and resort to the odd roadside bica now and then.

We couldn't stay downtown too long, not that we really wanted to anyway - I think it has a bit of a mournful, empty feeling when the shops have closed, as we had another dinner party to go to, this time at J & R's. We did however stop for a quick drink at this cafe that sells plastic shoes and vintage kaftans and other dresses of curtain-like material. It was only noticable for possibly the worst pastel de nata I have had in Lisbon.

Returning to the flat before dinner I was sure to fill myself up on medication and we went well prepared with packets of tissues in every pocket and up every sleeve. Despite the cold I was really looking forward to going and having the opportunity to have a nosey around a friend's flat and to experience J's cooking which I have been told many times before is fantastic. I'm always being to told I should try J's bacalhau.

Their flat is lovely and charming, I think just the right mixture between his interests (walls filled with DVDs and a guitar) and her touches (a giant cityscape of New York, a city that R is far from enamoured by, almost entirely covers one wall). The flat is fairly modern and stylish, in a large and imposing block not very far from mine and S's. We were the first to arrive as we were dining that night with S & R who are always bringing up the rear in these types of gathering.*

We entered to a typical sight - R(J) watching the football. His team, Sporting, were playing so there was small football chat which is hard for me at the moment. There being only ever 3 teams here that challenge for the title (and usually not even all 3), Sporting, Benfica and Porto people tend to follow one of the big three but they also follow English football quite closely too. I've been keeping my eye on Man United but here I think it's pretty much expected of me to follow Benfica, that is if I ever want to be able to talk to my father-in-law again. Unfortunately as yet I'm not to knowledgable about Portuguese football other than Benfica are currently leading the Liga.

S & R(S) soon arrived and we started the meal which was an excellent Bacalhau com Natas. My first time trying this popular dish. It was delicious but I felt a bit samey, I thought S's bacalhau dish from New Years Eve was more interesting. Saying that though J's was very well done and I loved the crispy bit at the top.

For desert we had a Torta de laranja and a coconut one that I forget the name of, all of which was followed by whiskey and baileys and good conversation. We then played on the Wii for a bit, a few quizes which were in English, giving me a bit of an advantage and then R(S) showing just how game he was. We made him get into the hardest yoga positions we could find.

We went home full and happy.

Today it's back to the parents' for a lazy Sunday lunch and more mauling from the cat.

*I've just realised that I've got 2 Rs in this piece so I will differentiate it will be R(J) and R(S) for now.

Survival of the sales part 1...

Typical! I manage to go for months through the driving rain, the burning cold, the whipping wind of Manchester and I finally get to Portugal and I catch a cold. To be fair though all those people who expressed jelousy at my change in cilmate really should visit here in the winter. Never before have I experienced such poor forward planning for winter, most windows are single glazed, there's no central heating anywhere and the houses are designed to let the blistering summer heat out which in winter creates the strange phenomena of it being warmer outside than inside. I have to wear a jumper all the time indoors now.

My cold could also have something to do with the sheer number of people I was around yesterday and the miriad of germs they were carrying. We decided to brave the sales and I know S was missing her retail therephy (I don't think I've met anyone as well dressed as S, in an understated way). I was very poor but in desperate need of at least one more pair of pants and some shoes so we headed to Colombo, a huge city centre shopping centre next to the Benfica football ground.

One thing Portugal is not short of is shopping malls. The Portuguese are mad about these palaces of consumerism and I've even had C raving about ones such as the Vasco da Gama centre (with waterfalls over the glass ceiling - which just look like they're being washed constantly). To me they're all the same, the same shops just in more or less confusing arrangements.

There are just about two clothes shops in Portugal I would shop in (for some reason the Portuguese H & M is rubbish) and that's Pull & Bear and Springfield. One of my long running comments on the Portuguese is that they dress in such a conservative fashion. Walking down the streets you do get the impression that their mother's choose their clothes, sometimes this is true in people up to their mid 30s. Added to that all the clothes look brand new, there's not a scuff mark, stain or rip (with one exception today!) in anyone's clothes which often gives the impression of either being in a film or a Daz advert. I've had a little think about this and can only assume that Portugal being so poor for so long has issues with apparent poverty. I will always remember a comment made by a Portuguese friend regarding my favourite pair of converse which had been lovingly tended to a state of near collapse and it was remarked that I could wear them to park cars (a common job for the homeless is finding parking spaces). I've had numerous conversations with Portuguese friends about this and it's just a cultural different that's difficult to understand.

So I'm left with these two shops, neither of which are great but which do have some good lines. I don't buy a lot of clothes, that should be emphasised at this point but I do have set ideas on what I like and back in the UK this usually led me to vintage or charity shops or shall independant shops, with the occassional visit to Topman, H & M or Primark for essentials. Now the charity/vintage shops here are practically non existance. Their lack is merely emphasised by the fact the the one or two that do exist will no doubt be pointed out to me. The same is true for the independant shops but these seem to consist of 'boutiques' in Bairro Alto that charge €40 for a t-shirt. There's just no equivalent to Pop or its ilk, or if there is then please please point me in its direction.

Saying this though I was rather pleased with my purchases. I got a pair of gray cord trousers and some smart(ish) trainers which will be perfect for work. It wasn't too painful and they were under €40 for the lot. I spent a long time having a shirt pushed on me by S but in the end I declined, I fancied being a bit more colourful but there was nothing that caught my eye.

Happy with my clothes purchases we decided to do a bit of food shopping as there is a massive Continente supermarket there but as it turns out we didn't end up buying much. We were disappointed with the quality of the meat and most of the other stuff on our list can be bought either cheaper or of better quality from our local supermarket - Pingo Doce.

By the time we got home I was starting to feel a bit ill and very tired. Ashamedly I fell asleep through the film - Last Year In Marienbad - much to S's amusement as it's her who is normally guilty of that. I woke up today feeling a little horrible but I'm medicated up and prepared to face the sales downtown now!

It's a new dawn, a new day, a new life...

When I woke up yesterday I had the strangest feeling of not having a clue where I was. It took me a good minute or so to realise that I was next to the most beautiful woman in the world. That kind of shock it not easy to get over and is something that still amazes me on a daily basis. I couldn't believe that after all the hard work, the stress, the tears, the risks it came down to the simple pleasure of watching another human sleep.


There was to be, however, little chance for reflection on New Years Day. We had rather an important task before us - we were going round to Estoril to the in-laws for me to be welcomed to Portugal and also for us to break the news to them that some scruffy, unemployed Manc was trying to marry their wonderful daughter.

I love S's parents so much, they're so friendly and generous and they really look after us. I was a little nervous about telling them about the engagement but I had no real reason to be, S has assured me enough times that the really like me and have accepted me into the family and this was perfectly illustrated when the news was broken to them. They took the news totally in their stride, as if it was the most natural thing in the world and they were totally expecting it, we spent barely a couple of minutes on congratulations before we moved onto lunch.

Lunch, as always when S's mum cooks, was a delicious affair. Tender roast lamb cooked with rosemary and garlic, punched potatoes, and cauliflower and sprout gratin all covered in one of the tasiest gravies I have ever had. There was more than enough and my place kept being refilled, as did my glass. It really amused me when I first went to S's parents for a meal and we would all have wine and S would be given juice by her parents but now I know why, you have to be able to really handle your drink during these big lunches.

After the main course there was a selection of lovely desert's, fresh fruit, dried figs stuffed with walnuts, tarts and a lovely christmas cake that S's mum had made and which was a rememberance of their time in England. During desert I had to endure the initiation rites into the family which seems to consist of having your groin mauled by a psychotic cat, all whilst maintaining a straight face and continuing the conversation. I love the family cat, she's so beautiful but she just has this habit of attaching herself to me when I'm at the dinner table.

We left with our bellies full and pleased that they'd taken it so well. It was a lovely drive home along the Marginal, seing the waves crash on the beach in the darkness and this was my first glance at the sea since I arrived and it had never really occurred to me as something I would miss but it brought back a lot of memories for me.

Returning to the flat we just had a relaxed evening in. After such a large lunch it was just soup for dinner and then we watched an excellent film - Lilya-4-Ever - very moving.

Panic on the streets of London...

The NYE party went amazingly well but more of that later, I want first to recount my epic journey of yesterday.

I'm feeling rather jet lagged at the moment even though Lisbon is just a matter of a couple of hours from the UK but this is mostly my own fault. For some unfathomable reason the airlines of the UK (and Portugal - they don't get off the hook that easily) have decided to stop running direct flights from the North (Manchester or Liverpool) to Lisbon. My choice would've been to go from the North to either Porto or Faro - not an ideal situation given Portugal's infrequent public transport system - or fly from London and travel down the night before. I much preferred the latter option as this way I could say goodbye to some friends that I don't get to see very often and also say goodbye to my old 'manor' so I booked my flight for early on the 31st from Luton.

I had my itinerary planned down to the minute but it was still really rather nerve wracking having to haul all my stuff through the streets of London. It is perhaps a little silly considering I used to live there for a year and never had any trouble but I was aware that I was going to be walking the streets of some of the rougher areas and this time I had extremely valuable cargo - the engagement ring I planned to propose with on my arrival. That ring caused me so many headaches because I dared not put it in one of my bags in case someone lifted it from the pub or snatched it in the street. It alternated then back and forth between my coat to my jeans (thus producing a rather startling bulge in my pants) but I felt much more at ease having it on my person. I did at one point contemplate that should the worse happen and and some gang stop me in Camberwell I'd throw my rucksacks at them and hotfoot it away with the ring safe and sound.

The plan was to leave my mum's house at around 12:30 on the 30th, get the train down to Euston arriving at around 16:30 and then heading down to New Cross for a few drinks with C & R, H and P. There was some debate as to whether we should head to the Hobgoblin or the Montague. I'll miss the Montague but I thought the Hobgoblin the safer choice, both for people getting back and due to the fact that I didn't really want to be walking around Peckham at night with my rucksacks. The Hobgoblin was also of course the scene of one of my great pub quiz successes, something that was sadly never to be repeated with my London Crew.

It was great to see those guys, C & R and P I hadn't seen since Barcelona and I hadn't seen H since her flat warming party in February so obviously there was a lot of catching up to do. No-one seemed particularly surprised by move and C was I think a little jealous of the ring in my pocket. She wants R to propose and even has the ring and has planned the wedding but has heard nothing yet from R.

H is doing well, she's considering doing a PhD at Oxford in 17th Century Literature which would be very interesting but I'm not sure where it would lead to for her. I really can't see H in an academic career, she's as cynical about it as me, if not more so and so it's probably just an excuse to avoid getting a proper job. She's getting by at the moment stuffing envelopes and setting English exams but she seemed pretty relaxed about it and was even talking about buying a houseboat with her brother.

C was doing a lot worse in the real word. She's finding the reality of being an English teacher a lot more difficult than she ever imagined. She never thought it would be easy but it has come as somewhat of a shock to her just how difficult it is. I think though that some of this pressure comes from herself. She holds herself to impossibly high standards and always has to be the best. I'm sure things will begin to settle down when she's into her second year. She was all full of excitement for me though and talking about plans for moving to New York to work as a teacher there . (This news immediately got S excited about the possibility of visiting.)

After the drinks (only a few ales for me as I had an important journey to undertake) and the talks, at around midnight, I had to say goodbye and got on my bus heading for Victoria. Amusingly the bus ride was not without drama which was what I feared but as it turned out was quite underwhelming. Just before Vauxhall Bridge some drunken guy tried to get on the bus with his girlfriend. He had just missed it but rather than wait for the next one he decided to force open one set of the back doors which in turn stalled the bus and meant we all had to get off and change. I really did think some of the other passengers were going to inflict violence on this young chap but I think by this time it was so cold that people just wanted to get where they were going.

I finally got to Victoria, found my coach and jumped on. I then spent the next 20 minutes watching the open luggage door like a hawk in case someone tried their luck with my large rucksack (by this time the ring was safely still in my pants pocket, digging in to my leg in such a way that made the vigil much easier). We then set off for Luton and I had 4 and a half rather uncomfortable hours on the departure lounge floor waiting for the check-in to start. I kept myself amused in these small hours with a by reading José Peixoto's Blank Gaze, Nigel Williams' The Wimbledon Poisoner and wondering about women who appear in the airport at 4 in the morning with immaculate hair and make-up.

The flight itself was pretty undramatic which as far as I'm concerned is definitely the best kind of flight. I failed to get more than a combined total of about 2 hours sleep in the entire day because sleep in public makes me really uncomfortable, I must've had some really cruel friends in the past.

I landed in Lisbon at about 9:30 and there was my love waiting for me in arrivals, I have to admit looking very nonchalant. I was a bag of nerves and rather dishevelled. My face covered in the ratty 2 day growth of stubble and as spotty as a teenager. All the stress of previous months has had the most unfortunate effect on my complexion. I was thankfully whisked away from the airport back home - something which felt totally natural and normal. I am really starting to see these streets as my own and I can't describe how good it is to see the large greeny-blue domes and red brick of Campo Pequeno. It really felt like everything had fallen into place and my heart could finally be at ease.

Whilst my heart was now at ease my body still had lots of work to do...the NYE party needed lots of work! Considering the fatigue I was now feeling it seemed a little rash to agree to host a party on the night I was arriving into the country but thankfully it had been arranged that me and S would provide starters and drinks and everyone else would bring the food. We prepared a few starters, some roast sweet potato, home made tuna pâte, hummus and other nibbles along with plenty of beer, wine, whisky and a surfeit of excellent caipirinhas, the tasting and perfecting of which got me and S very much in the party mood.

People arrived from around 8:30 onwards and some excellent food arrived with them, the dishes included pork with chestnuts, walnut rice, bacalhau with potatoes and mixed vegetables and then for desert there was a lovely chocolate tart, a strange cream and biscuit desert and a good sponge cake. The food went down very well and it was such a relief not to have to do all the cooking. One of favourite things about this relationship is the dinner parties we go to and throw ourselves but I think if I'd been forced to cook for 9 people I would've broken down at this point. Instead everything was very laid back and I felt totally guilty free having a couple of drinks.

After the food midnight came upon us and we all hugged and kissed and opened some champagne. We toasted the new year well and there was also wine enough to toast mine and S's engagement which I had mumbled my way through earlier in the day.

It was at this point that the real party started but I was unfortunately beginning to lag. My music had not been received with much enthusiasm thus far so I gladly lent the reins to DJ J and her party mix of the year. This was a real floor filler and soon my living room was a jumble of gyrating arms and legs with the men of the group sitting sullenly on the outside. R then had the bright idea of introducing a little karaoke to the proceedings...and so began the epic Drunken Soft Rock Karaoke 2009. No one was innocent, no one escaped but thankfully all audiovisual evidence has been hunted down and destroyed. After what some may have thought of as the defining version of You Give Love a Bad Name I could barely keep my eyes open and I retired to my new bed, ready to begin my new life in the morning.