My nightly run through Lisbon (partly to keep fit and partly to avoid the traffic intent on running me over) usually takes me to one of the most popular area in Lisbon for that purpose, the university stadium. Lisbon University is situated largely in it's own little enclave, to the north of the city, along with a few autonomous faculties, in an area appropriately name Cidade Universitaria. In the centre of this are the various sport pitches, running tracks and other facilities that exist to remind students that man cannot live by books and pastais de nata alone.
As you can see from this shot it provides a nice little complex to run around and is a welcome retreat from the honking cars and unsure paving:
View Larger Map
Despite these advantages the main drawback for me and S was that getting there was both boring (running through Entrecampos and up Avenida Forças Armadas is hardly interesting) and knackering, with a pretty steep climb to make, not that I minded. Anyway after a bit of discussion we recently decided to vary the route of our run and I am so glad we did.
Rather than making our way to the university we have, of late, been exploring the area nearer to us, around Roma. This has only served to strengthen and deepen my love for the area in which we live. I've always known we were very lucky to live in this area, surrounded, as we are, by a host of cultural and architectural delights: Culturegest, Campo Pequeno, the Gulbenkian, not to mention being in walking distance of most Lisbon cinemas. On top of this there's a whole host of great cafes, restaurants and bars and I love the atmosphere which is lively but not too busy.
On our recent runs S and I have discovered a whole load of new places to try, cafes with beautiful esplanades, delicious looking restaurants and, my personal favourite, a cheesy looking bar called Cockpit which is alleged to be patronised largely by pilots and air crews. These next few weeks are going to be pretty busy.
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
The view from the streets...
I don't know when this finally came online, I saw the car a few weeks back, but finally Lisbon is on Google Street view so for those who want to see the streets I walk every day then give it a try.
Monday, 17 August 2009
It's just a jump to the left, and then a step to the right...
First things first, as should be apparent to those of you even slightly curious, I have a new blog that I will be writing in conjunction with this one. The link for this blog has been for the past few days located at the top right of this page but for those of you disinclined to turn your head lest you lose your place the link is also here:
Burn The Jukebox
This blog will continue to contain my musings on life in Lisbon and in general whereas the new blog will primarily be music related (and, as today's post shows, provide some film reviews). This will be largely music in general but also contain news and reviews of the 'scene' in Lisbon and Portugal.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My post today concerns a little change I have noticed in Lisbon in the short time that I have been here.
As anyone who knows me well can confirm I have something of an obsession with the right-wing of politics. Not an agreement, I think that their ideas and policies are anti-social and just plain wrong, but it's rather like watching a car crash or those 'real FBI' shows about serial killers. I like to know what the enemy is thinking and despite it being often repulsive I just can't tear my attention away.
Now I reserve my real fascination for the extremes, the Daily Mail and Fox News provide me with hours of laughter mixed with horror, but there is a pervasive evil of the mainstream right-wing that is perhaps more alarming because anyone can dismiss cranks and loonies but when the arguments and the people who deliver them are seen as reasonable then that's when we start to have problems.
Here in Portugal society was summed up pretty well for me by S not long after I moved here. She said, (and here I paraphrase) "we're not a nation of extremes". Whilst being obviously a wide generalisation, I have begun to realise the truthfulness of this statement and therefore when elements of extremism do raise their heads it is done in a rather Portuguese fashion.
Now I will admit that I am not an expert on Portuguese politics, I am reading more and more and getting some impression of the players and systems but there will be plenty of people out there ready to correct me should I go too far, I would just remind them that these are purely my own impressions as an outsider. There exists here in Portugal a political party, the Centro Democrático e Social - Partido Popular (CDS-PP) which, is probably as far right as is acceptable in Portugal (a country which after the dictatorship largely shies away from the far right). Now I can't comment in too much detail about the policies of these guys, but what I can say is that they must have recently got rather a lot of funding because their adverts have shot up around Lisbon like I have never seen before.
Before I moved to Portugal political advertising had been the reserve of those late-night party political broadcasts on TV that were seemingly designed to make one reach for the remote as quickly as possible. Here though at every junction in the city and, in some areas, on 50% of the lampposts there is a political poster. I was originally under the impression that the parties bought lots of advertising space on these signposts but I recently discovered that they actually buy and erect the signposts themselves.
Usually the adverts on these signs spew the usual self regarding, idealistic political rubbish, or occasionally will attempt to tackle some immediate political problem (like the crisis or swine flu) with perky political rhetoric but the CDS-PP posters spew a different kind of political rubbish, not the sort that can be dismissed with a roll of the eyes and a sigh. It's the kind of lies that fill the Daily Mail on a daily basis but at least there one can choose to search for it for the laughs. It's quite different to have it pasted in foot high letters at every junction in town. The most popular bits of idiocy I have seen include (roughly translated from the Portuguese):
What Portugal needs is a return to honest politics and it could take the lead from a Brazilian politician I read about recently whose campaign slogan was disarmingly honest:
"Roubo, mas faço!" (I steal but I do!)
Despite all this there is one glimmer of hope - the right-wing here in Portugal, whilst perhaps benefiting from the Crisis and a general European disenchantment with the left, is at least easy to spot. There exists here such a thing as 'right-wing hair' perfectly demonstrated by the leader of the CDS-PP, Paulo Portas:
If you see this kind of hair, you'll know!
Burn The Jukebox
This blog will continue to contain my musings on life in Lisbon and in general whereas the new blog will primarily be music related (and, as today's post shows, provide some film reviews). This will be largely music in general but also contain news and reviews of the 'scene' in Lisbon and Portugal.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My post today concerns a little change I have noticed in Lisbon in the short time that I have been here.
As anyone who knows me well can confirm I have something of an obsession with the right-wing of politics. Not an agreement, I think that their ideas and policies are anti-social and just plain wrong, but it's rather like watching a car crash or those 'real FBI' shows about serial killers. I like to know what the enemy is thinking and despite it being often repulsive I just can't tear my attention away.
Now I reserve my real fascination for the extremes, the Daily Mail and Fox News provide me with hours of laughter mixed with horror, but there is a pervasive evil of the mainstream right-wing that is perhaps more alarming because anyone can dismiss cranks and loonies but when the arguments and the people who deliver them are seen as reasonable then that's when we start to have problems.
Here in Portugal society was summed up pretty well for me by S not long after I moved here. She said, (and here I paraphrase) "we're not a nation of extremes". Whilst being obviously a wide generalisation, I have begun to realise the truthfulness of this statement and therefore when elements of extremism do raise their heads it is done in a rather Portuguese fashion.
Now I will admit that I am not an expert on Portuguese politics, I am reading more and more and getting some impression of the players and systems but there will be plenty of people out there ready to correct me should I go too far, I would just remind them that these are purely my own impressions as an outsider. There exists here in Portugal a political party, the Centro Democrático e Social - Partido Popular (CDS-PP) which, is probably as far right as is acceptable in Portugal (a country which after the dictatorship largely shies away from the far right). Now I can't comment in too much detail about the policies of these guys, but what I can say is that they must have recently got rather a lot of funding because their adverts have shot up around Lisbon like I have never seen before.
Before I moved to Portugal political advertising had been the reserve of those late-night party political broadcasts on TV that were seemingly designed to make one reach for the remote as quickly as possible. Here though at every junction in the city and, in some areas, on 50% of the lampposts there is a political poster. I was originally under the impression that the parties bought lots of advertising space on these signposts but I recently discovered that they actually buy and erect the signposts themselves.
Usually the adverts on these signs spew the usual self regarding, idealistic political rubbish, or occasionally will attempt to tackle some immediate political problem (like the crisis or swine flu) with perky political rhetoric but the CDS-PP posters spew a different kind of political rubbish, not the sort that can be dismissed with a roll of the eyes and a sigh. It's the kind of lies that fill the Daily Mail on a daily basis but at least there one can choose to search for it for the laughs. It's quite different to have it pasted in foot high letters at every junction in town. The most popular bits of idiocy I have seen include (roughly translated from the Portuguese):
- Why do criminals have more rights than the police?
- Why save BPN (the national bank) when you allow small businesses to fail?
- Is it just to give the minimum income to those who don't want to work?
What Portugal needs is a return to honest politics and it could take the lead from a Brazilian politician I read about recently whose campaign slogan was disarmingly honest:
"Roubo, mas faço!" (I steal but I do!)
Despite all this there is one glimmer of hope - the right-wing here in Portugal, whilst perhaps benefiting from the Crisis and a general European disenchantment with the left, is at least easy to spot. There exists here such a thing as 'right-wing hair' perfectly demonstrated by the leader of the CDS-PP, Paulo Portas:
If you see this kind of hair, you'll know!
Friday, 14 August 2009
Raindrops keep falling on my head...
Today's post was going to be about Portuguese food - inspired by a rare disappointment in a restaurant on Wednesday night - but the pros and cons of food here is a massive subject and requires more thought. I will need to break it down and digest it properly. Instead I have a much more pressing and immediate situation to report.
As the temperature of Lisbon hovers around the 36-37ºC mark even walking along the streets can seem something of a chore but those of us who have lived here long enough know that there is at least one relief to be had from the baking heat - the gentle spray of liquid from the balconies above!
The first number of times this happens to you, as in most cities, you assume that it is something related to an air conditioning unit and you hope, as you feel the trickle roll down the back of your neck, that pigeons weren't using you for target practice. In Lisbon, however, you hope and pray for air conditioning drips because the alternative (at least in my eyes anyway) is almost as bad as the thought of pigeon shit.
As I have mentioned before, and as anyone who has been to Lisbon can confirm, Lisbon is very much a living city. By this I mean that the majority of spaces in and around the city are very much multi use. There are apartment blocks everywhere and most of these conform to the same rough design - with the verandas at the front all having the same handy drainpipe flowing straight onto the street.
In a style evocative of medieval waste disposal (throw it out of the window and hope no-one is passing below) the dregs of cleaning those apartments more often than not ends up dripping out of these spouts and onto the heads of those unlucky enough to be walking underneath. (We even have a device in our apartment to unblock the pipe when it gets blocked with...whatever.)
So bare in mind, here in Lisbon relief from the heat comes at a price!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In a move which shows I am, at least in some ways, developing Portuguese traits yesterday, as the temperature reached 36ºC I bought a new jumper. (Well S bought it for me - she's obviously a driving influence.)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have, of late, begun watching an amazing Portuguese comedy show 'starring' a character called Bruno Aleixo. Here's one of his great bits of advice:
Roughly translated: "Men with earings: they're drug addicts!"
As the temperature of Lisbon hovers around the 36-37ºC mark even walking along the streets can seem something of a chore but those of us who have lived here long enough know that there is at least one relief to be had from the baking heat - the gentle spray of liquid from the balconies above!
The first number of times this happens to you, as in most cities, you assume that it is something related to an air conditioning unit and you hope, as you feel the trickle roll down the back of your neck, that pigeons weren't using you for target practice. In Lisbon, however, you hope and pray for air conditioning drips because the alternative (at least in my eyes anyway) is almost as bad as the thought of pigeon shit.
As I have mentioned before, and as anyone who has been to Lisbon can confirm, Lisbon is very much a living city. By this I mean that the majority of spaces in and around the city are very much multi use. There are apartment blocks everywhere and most of these conform to the same rough design - with the verandas at the front all having the same handy drainpipe flowing straight onto the street.
In a style evocative of medieval waste disposal (throw it out of the window and hope no-one is passing below) the dregs of cleaning those apartments more often than not ends up dripping out of these spouts and onto the heads of those unlucky enough to be walking underneath. (We even have a device in our apartment to unblock the pipe when it gets blocked with...whatever.)
So bare in mind, here in Lisbon relief from the heat comes at a price!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In a move which shows I am, at least in some ways, developing Portuguese traits yesterday, as the temperature reached 36ºC I bought a new jumper. (Well S bought it for me - she's obviously a driving influence.)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have, of late, begun watching an amazing Portuguese comedy show 'starring' a character called Bruno Aleixo. Here's one of his great bits of advice:
Roughly translated: "Men with earings: they're drug addicts!"
Wednesday, 12 August 2009
Lisbon: O mito é o nada que é tudo...
Lisbon is a city that survives on the myths it and its inhabitants create for it and despite some misgivings, in certain specific instances, it's an attitude that I have a lot of sympathy with.
That said I much prefer the gritty realism of a decaying city, where the myths are put into perspective by those who have to live there, day in, day out. Manchester had it in the pre-gentrified red brick factories around the north of the city and in the small 'satellite' towns like Bury, Bolton and Wigan where the population seems to be made up of pensioners and pregnant teenagers. Parts of London, where I lived, had it in the South East, around Peckham and Deptford where the art students haven't yet reached and where walking the streets at night still gives a rush of adrenaline...but then again this perhaps myth making of my own...it is my own though and it is based on experience.
If you know where to go in Lisbon that same gritty realism can still be found but it's quite off the beaten path. The city is chock full of Fado joints where you can hear the songs of saudades for a time or place that exists no longer or hear and read the stories times when Bairro Alto and Alfama were area full of prostitutes and their pimps. Even the main flea market, Feira da Ladra (Thieves Market), has a romanticised name - although in this case there is something of a truth to it (the edges are full of suspiciously new looking mobile phones and digital cameras and the central touristy bit is pretty low on bargains).
Nowadays in Bairro Alto and Alfama you are just as likely to see trendy refurbished apartments sold or rented to foreigners, for much more than the locals can afford, than you are old women hanging their washing out. This is of course a familiar story in so many cities but what makes it especially sad in the case of Lisbon is that firstly it is happening so late when compared to other European cities and secondly because Lisbon resisted this for so long it is a charm that it blindly hangs onto despite reality.
Not that I am criticising the areas for this change, change is important and change is good. One of the great things about Lisbon is that it is still alive but sometimes the feeling is that it is evolving despite itself. These areas have deservedly become now part of the tourist trail, they are beautiful and interesting and, in the case of Bairro Alto, lots of fun. But for a real taste of Lisbon as it is lived you have to take a little walk behind those areas.
Now, as ever, this whole post hasn't just been plucked from my brain at random, there is usually an incident or experience that sparks these long thoughts and this profession of love the dark underbelly of cities had been prompted by the imminent move of my office. We are now in the process of moving from one of my favourite areas, Avenida Almirante Reis (Anjos) to one of my least favourite, Cais de Sodre.
It is almost unheard of for anyone in this city to shun a river view but as part of my role as the eternal contrarian I am left somewhat bemused by them. Of course there is the theory (maybe it's fact, i don't know) that the sight of water has a soothing effect on the soul but in my honest opinion the view of the River Tagus from Lisbon isn't one of the great sights. It's a little too industrial and to be frank a little dirty. (This however is not true for the views of Lisbon across the water from Almada which are amazing) Anyway, what I am giving up for the privilege of seeing container ships on a daily basis is walk through one of the liveliest neighbourhoods in Lisbon.
It is no exaggeration to say that every day I smile on my way to work because of the pleasure of the sights of the city alive. It's also true that every day I walk past the same group of prostitutes every day to the point where we now smile and nod at each other and it's also true that more often than not I have to take a little skip over a dried pool of unexplained blood somewhere along the route. But it is making this route every day, seeing the same people, even the junkies bumming cigarettes outside Casa Santa Maria, going into the pastelarias, the tascas and even the supermarket that I feel part of the city. Every city has its museums and its monuments but only Lisbon has my whores and my junkies!
That said I much prefer the gritty realism of a decaying city, where the myths are put into perspective by those who have to live there, day in, day out. Manchester had it in the pre-gentrified red brick factories around the north of the city and in the small 'satellite' towns like Bury, Bolton and Wigan where the population seems to be made up of pensioners and pregnant teenagers. Parts of London, where I lived, had it in the South East, around Peckham and Deptford where the art students haven't yet reached and where walking the streets at night still gives a rush of adrenaline...but then again this perhaps myth making of my own...it is my own though and it is based on experience.
If you know where to go in Lisbon that same gritty realism can still be found but it's quite off the beaten path. The city is chock full of Fado joints where you can hear the songs of saudades for a time or place that exists no longer or hear and read the stories times when Bairro Alto and Alfama were area full of prostitutes and their pimps. Even the main flea market, Feira da Ladra (Thieves Market), has a romanticised name - although in this case there is something of a truth to it (the edges are full of suspiciously new looking mobile phones and digital cameras and the central touristy bit is pretty low on bargains).
Nowadays in Bairro Alto and Alfama you are just as likely to see trendy refurbished apartments sold or rented to foreigners, for much more than the locals can afford, than you are old women hanging their washing out. This is of course a familiar story in so many cities but what makes it especially sad in the case of Lisbon is that firstly it is happening so late when compared to other European cities and secondly because Lisbon resisted this for so long it is a charm that it blindly hangs onto despite reality.
Not that I am criticising the areas for this change, change is important and change is good. One of the great things about Lisbon is that it is still alive but sometimes the feeling is that it is evolving despite itself. These areas have deservedly become now part of the tourist trail, they are beautiful and interesting and, in the case of Bairro Alto, lots of fun. But for a real taste of Lisbon as it is lived you have to take a little walk behind those areas.
Now, as ever, this whole post hasn't just been plucked from my brain at random, there is usually an incident or experience that sparks these long thoughts and this profession of love the dark underbelly of cities had been prompted by the imminent move of my office. We are now in the process of moving from one of my favourite areas, Avenida Almirante Reis (Anjos) to one of my least favourite, Cais de Sodre.
It is almost unheard of for anyone in this city to shun a river view but as part of my role as the eternal contrarian I am left somewhat bemused by them. Of course there is the theory (maybe it's fact, i don't know) that the sight of water has a soothing effect on the soul but in my honest opinion the view of the River Tagus from Lisbon isn't one of the great sights. It's a little too industrial and to be frank a little dirty. (This however is not true for the views of Lisbon across the water from Almada which are amazing) Anyway, what I am giving up for the privilege of seeing container ships on a daily basis is walk through one of the liveliest neighbourhoods in Lisbon.
It is no exaggeration to say that every day I smile on my way to work because of the pleasure of the sights of the city alive. It's also true that every day I walk past the same group of prostitutes every day to the point where we now smile and nod at each other and it's also true that more often than not I have to take a little skip over a dried pool of unexplained blood somewhere along the route. But it is making this route every day, seeing the same people, even the junkies bumming cigarettes outside Casa Santa Maria, going into the pastelarias, the tascas and even the supermarket that I feel part of the city. Every city has its museums and its monuments but only Lisbon has my whores and my junkies!
Tuesday, 11 August 2009
Portuguese builders/builders in Portugal...
The subject of today's post is builders. Well let me expand on that somewhat...by builders I mean all those engaged in manual work somehow and as the title of the post suggests a great many of those working here happen not to be Portuguese but more likely Brazilian, Eastern European or African.
Take my own example...below S and my lovely apartment, in one of the most beautiful (and surprisingly peaceful) areas of Lisbon there have been works taking place. The apartment black we live in is not new, it's one of those concrete jobbies put up sometime probably in the 1940s, but it does have its own charm - from the old creaking lifts with their manual doors to the old creaking porter of a similar vintage. Recently the apartment below us was bought and the new owners wished to refurbish it. That may be fair enough - I don't know but chances are that the previous owner was probably close to 100 and it hadn't had a lick of paint since the place was built - that is until whoever was in charge of the hiring managed to get hold of two guys whose only tools appear to be a hammer and a drill. Added to this is the fact that they apparently hate each other because they can't go more than half an hour without screaming at each other.
This combination of a lack of tools (and perhaps knowledge) with a complete inability to work well with each other means that the project of refurbishing the flat has been going on now for over 3 months. That is 3 months of banging, drilling and shouting from 8:30 to 19:30, Monday to Saturday (yes, Saturday!!!). I cannot begin to wonder what kind of palace would await me after 3 months of work (an estimated 1600 man hours for those who can imagine it) baring in mind my own experience of such works was when my old house had a new roof, central heating installed, double glazing put in and a damp proof course, all within 2 weeks. Yet it was only yesterday that they got delivery of the kitchen!
Anyway, after months of having our weekend peace disturbed enough was enough and last week S went to have a word with them. As a man I promised her any backup she needed, from the safety of our flat. To the builders' credit it was at least 30 minutes before they started up again but thanks to my love's training in the law she whisked out the right directive, gave a quick call to the local constabulary and shut that noisy operation down, all without me having to lift a finger! (For those of you in Lisbon faced with noisy neighbours I will post the law later and you can quote this at them, after an initial warning they face a €2500 fine.)
So after our successful confrontation with Portuguese builders it got me thinking. Coming from the UK I'm quite accustomed to health and safety procedures, things like safety barriers, warning signs etc... things that haven't quite made it to Portugal yet. When seeing building work in action here there are a number of points that it's hard to miss:
...all I could think of was at least he's not smoking.
The things you see when you haven't got your gun.
Take my own example...below S and my lovely apartment, in one of the most beautiful (and surprisingly peaceful) areas of Lisbon there have been works taking place. The apartment black we live in is not new, it's one of those concrete jobbies put up sometime probably in the 1940s, but it does have its own charm - from the old creaking lifts with their manual doors to the old creaking porter of a similar vintage. Recently the apartment below us was bought and the new owners wished to refurbish it. That may be fair enough - I don't know but chances are that the previous owner was probably close to 100 and it hadn't had a lick of paint since the place was built - that is until whoever was in charge of the hiring managed to get hold of two guys whose only tools appear to be a hammer and a drill. Added to this is the fact that they apparently hate each other because they can't go more than half an hour without screaming at each other.
This combination of a lack of tools (and perhaps knowledge) with a complete inability to work well with each other means that the project of refurbishing the flat has been going on now for over 3 months. That is 3 months of banging, drilling and shouting from 8:30 to 19:30, Monday to Saturday (yes, Saturday!!!). I cannot begin to wonder what kind of palace would await me after 3 months of work (an estimated 1600 man hours for those who can imagine it) baring in mind my own experience of such works was when my old house had a new roof, central heating installed, double glazing put in and a damp proof course, all within 2 weeks. Yet it was only yesterday that they got delivery of the kitchen!
Anyway, after months of having our weekend peace disturbed enough was enough and last week S went to have a word with them. As a man I promised her any backup she needed, from the safety of our flat. To the builders' credit it was at least 30 minutes before they started up again but thanks to my love's training in the law she whisked out the right directive, gave a quick call to the local constabulary and shut that noisy operation down, all without me having to lift a finger! (For those of you in Lisbon faced with noisy neighbours I will post the law later and you can quote this at them, after an initial warning they face a €2500 fine.)
So after our successful confrontation with Portuguese builders it got me thinking. Coming from the UK I'm quite accustomed to health and safety procedures, things like safety barriers, warning signs etc... things that haven't quite made it to Portugal yet. When seeing building work in action here there are a number of points that it's hard to miss:
- Typically if there's a hole to be dug this will take 5-8 people - 1 to dig and 4-7 to stand outside the hole and advise how it is to be dug.
- Barriers/signs to protect workmen and the public are expensive and often get in the way (of people giving advice to the one man working) so why bother - of course the public won't come too close to your pickaxing/pneumatic drilling/welding.
- If you're digging a hole in the pavement don't worry, people are probably too busy avoiding the others to mind yours.
- Of course scaffolding is supposed to look 60 years old!
- Remember the one and only Portuguese Health and Safety rule - no smoking on the job (that's reserved for the 5 people outside the hole telling you how to dig).
...all I could think of was at least he's not smoking.
The things you see when you haven't got your gun.
Monday, 10 August 2009
Ferias do Verão...
Well, for me at least, the summer holidays are over. Just as Portugal is entering its yearly period of torpor (seemingly the whole country is ‘fechado’ for the month of August) I am starting back at work after two weeks spent reading, visiting the country and generally avoiding anything that might be construed as ‘useful’ or ‘improving’.
The holiday in fact started rather hectically, S and I had been invited to a barbeque thrown by our new good friends ‘the boys from
The Friday in question (the 24th) was particularly hectic, it being the last day of work and coming, as is typical, with that usual dragging feeling that anticipation of holidays brings. I was this night, however, due to provide the music at TBFB’s barbeque and so after many coffees and pick me ups I lugged my DJ gear over to the flat and proceeded to amaze all those gathered with my disk spinning skills. I slipped in a few Brazilian classics along with the typical indie fare and some unusual additions and I think I played the crowd pretty well. The night ended with some acoustic singalongs and invitations for TBFB to come and sample my famous Arroz de Pato (duck rice) on Tuesday.
Saturday, as has been the habit of the past couple of months, was the day devoted to the beach. We have become fans of the Costa da Caparica which is a bit of a change for S who was originally an Estoril girl. The beaches of the Costa are much better though, cleaner, bigger and less crowded (in fact a visit yesterday to a beach in Estoril to see friends showed just what a meat market it is, the bodies looked like a butcher’s shop). The big problem with the Costa is the journey although this problem is somewhat psychological – the trip takes you over the bridge but if timed well it really isn’t much longer than that to Estoril and it’s well worth the extra time. The beach this Saturday was fun but the weather wasn’t as warm as it had been and the sea especially was pretty chilly, I only took a couple of dips myself when usually you can’t get me out of there.
After the raucous nights out of previous weeks, combined with plans for the Sunday, meant that Saturday night was spent relatively quietly.
Sunday brought an overnight trip to Porto to see our friend X defend her thesis (that me and S had helped quite a bit on) at the
I am in love with Porto, I think most cities have an essence that is immediately apparent to those visiting them (after living in a place for a while you begin to take some of that essence into yourself and give a little back to the communal essence) and the essence of Porto is one of relaxed self assurance, a ‘coolness’ if you will.
Porto is the essential counterpoint to
I often remark that the Portuguese, for all their charm, are in general still quite socially conservative, and this expresses itself perfectly in the way in which the youth dress. Here in Lisbon there is much more of a ‘middle of the road’ attitude where between the ages of 15-30 in most social groups people dress, if not identically, within certain social bounds. (The great example of this being that when the weather is cooler –Spring and Autumn – 90% of girls in that age group will be sporting the mysteriously ‘fashionable’ combo of skinny jeans and hiking boots.) This is not to say that Lisbon is not without it’s ‘fringe’ but it is to say that this is much smaller than you might experience in the UK and much less obvious than that in Porto. There is also a feeling that Porto is much more of a forward thinking city than
I have much more to say about
Tuesday was spent cleaning the flat and preparing for the visit of TBFB who were going to be leaving for
Wednesday was the day we left for our main holiday, a week in the countryside, in a tiny village called Alqueve which is half way between
I discovered the thrill and joy of running in the mountains, which is ten times harder than the streets of
The week was very welcome but by the end I was glad to return to civilisation.
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