It has often been said (perhaps most often by me, but not exclusively) that one of the interesting things about Portugal, and indeed one of its great charms, is that in some very striking ways it reminds us of our country of origin but from a distant time.
My frequent refrain has been, "it's like Britain in the 50s/60s/70s" and comfortingly this sentiment has been expressed by friends and colleagues alike who have come to Lisbon from a variety of cities and countries. It was also echoed by Paul Theroux, in the book The Kingdom By The Sea, who says that certain countries exist in a certain time. If Britain and America are now then Japan is 5-10 years into the future and some countries inexplicably in the past.
This thought obviously only comes to me when confronted by certain situations - in many ways Portugal is an extremely advanced country, it leads Europe and possibly the world in things like renewable power and it's still a mystery to me how the metro system in such a hot country can consistently be so cool when London's is stifling in half the heat. But the thought does come, invariably, once or twice a day and today I have already reached my limit, but today i'll just tackle the one that comes up the most.
Spitting
In the UK spitting (the expulsion of saliva, possibly liberally mixed with phlegm from the nose, from the mouth) in public is exclusively the domain of 'yoofs' and professional footballers, two sections of society largely linked by haircuts and IQ if nothing else. It's not something socially acceptable and in fact is seen as something distinctly antisocial and threatening. Here in Portugal though barely a head is turned and seemingly the majority of people with grey hair will spend much of their daily constitutionals clearing all oral and nasal passageways and depositing the results spectacularly on the pavement.
It's quite disconcerting to see some, otherwise respectable looking, person engaged in such a disgusting habit and, startlingly, it's not limited to men. It is also fact that most of the elderly here are still dressed like I imagine people in black and white films to be dressed. The men in sharp suits with brightly polished shoes whilst the women are dressed like movie stars from the 50s complete with huge, insect like sunglasses, so to see them hawking up goo is quite a sight.
It all reminds me of the story I have heard many times since my childhood of when my grandma first got an electric fireplace fitted in her house (in what must've been the 1960s) and her father, my great-grandfather, had up until then only ever had coal fires and so my grandma had to patiently explain to him that this was one fireplace he was expressly forbidden from spitting into. A request, much to the annoyance and disgust of my grandma and mum, he would often ignore.
Thursday, 27 August 2009
Wednesday, 26 August 2009
Portuguese 'utilities'...*UPDATE*
In a startling display of efficiency we had our gas switched back on at 21:30 last night...and the man who did it also flooded our kitchen!
Tuesday, 25 August 2009
Portuguese 'utilities'...
As I write this the shivering is finally subsiding. This morning I was forced to take a cold shower because we were without gas, as indeed was the entire building, and had been since the evening before. What had happened will probably never be discovered, all I can say is that when returned home with S, after our shopping, we found a fire engine parked in front of the apartment building with a few surly looking firemen wandering about and a couple of police officers wandering around trying to look like they were doing something.
On questioning no-one really seemed to know what was going on but whilst we patiently waited in the hallway that was filled with emergency personnel and a couple of confused looking electricians, shopping bags and all, it finally became clear - the electricians had been working and then smelt gas, they had rung the emergency services but now no-one really knew what to do. As a precaution(!) they switched the gas off and we were later told that it wouldn't be reconnected until some point today. We were told that it would be on again this afternoon, call me a cynic but I won't hold my breath...actually on second thoughts maybe that would be a good idea.
All this trouble with these services reminded me about a great blog entry I read a while back on the An Englishman In Lisbon blog here. This entry hilariously (and most importantly truthfully) describes the situation of electrical wiring in Portugal. S and I's flat for example has some beautiful, retro, light switches, which for some strange reason each have two switches, the second being entirely superfluous. We have ourselves suffered the tripped switches when we try to run the hairdryer and the microwave at the same time, and don't get me started on the basic two-pin plugs which give, according to S who I think is protesting too much, a 'satisfying crackle and flash' so you know when the plus is in.
Those are the dangers inside, outside we have to walk past installations like this on a regular basis:
It wouldn't be so bad, you could laugh at the absurdity of something like this still being allowed, if you hadn't seen one explode like I have. It happened early in the year when the weather was particularly bad. There was torrential rain and I had just dropped S off at the university. I was walking back down Avenida de Berna in Lisbon and the rain has turned the street into a river. It was obviously too much for one junction box which exploded in the street. Again the firemen looked on, surly and confused, it really doesn't fill me with confidence when I read "Bombieros Voluntarios" on their trucks, I want professionals!
On questioning no-one really seemed to know what was going on but whilst we patiently waited in the hallway that was filled with emergency personnel and a couple of confused looking electricians, shopping bags and all, it finally became clear - the electricians had been working and then smelt gas, they had rung the emergency services but now no-one really knew what to do. As a precaution(!) they switched the gas off and we were later told that it wouldn't be reconnected until some point today. We were told that it would be on again this afternoon, call me a cynic but I won't hold my breath...actually on second thoughts maybe that would be a good idea.
All this trouble with these services reminded me about a great blog entry I read a while back on the An Englishman In Lisbon blog here. This entry hilariously (and most importantly truthfully) describes the situation of electrical wiring in Portugal. S and I's flat for example has some beautiful, retro, light switches, which for some strange reason each have two switches, the second being entirely superfluous. We have ourselves suffered the tripped switches when we try to run the hairdryer and the microwave at the same time, and don't get me started on the basic two-pin plugs which give, according to S who I think is protesting too much, a 'satisfying crackle and flash' so you know when the plus is in.
Those are the dangers inside, outside we have to walk past installations like this on a regular basis:
It wouldn't be so bad, you could laugh at the absurdity of something like this still being allowed, if you hadn't seen one explode like I have. It happened early in the year when the weather was particularly bad. There was torrential rain and I had just dropped S off at the university. I was walking back down Avenida de Berna in Lisbon and the rain has turned the street into a river. It was obviously too much for one junction box which exploded in the street. Again the firemen looked on, surly and confused, it really doesn't fill me with confidence when I read "Bombieros Voluntarios" on their trucks, I want professionals!
Saturday, 22 August 2009
Sandblasting in the sun...
Well the weekend has now arrived (for me anyway it began on Thursday afternoon when our office began being dismantled for the big move to Cais de Sodré) and so the only great decision to make is which beach to head to. The choices for us, having access to a car and not minding a bit of travel, come down to three:
Anyway, after a few sulks and strops, threats of physical violence and threats to embargo sex (all from both sides) S got her way and got me onto the beach. After all the fuss it wasn't as bad as I feared and there are indeed many plus points: I discovered that swimming in the sea is actually one of my favourite activities, a fact that S discovered to her embarrassment when she tried to get me out of the sea and I turned into a 5 year old.
So this weekend, as most, the choice comes down to 3. The current favourite is Estoril, not my first choice I have to admit, the main reason being is that the beaches there are so small that the people are packed in like sardines (another reason that I wouldn't admit to S is that Estoril is also lacking in the...ahem....young crowd that go to Caparica, the view is much better there from what I have seen). But for us the deciding factor for us today is, sadly, wind. Being located, as it is, on the edge of Europe, Portugual gets its fair share of wind which turn the beaches into a sandblasting experience. Guincho is famous for this and is in fact a bit of a surfing hotspot because of it. Usually Caparica is ok but last time I lost a layer of skin and today it seems pretty windy in town so it must be quite bad there. Estoril is relatively sheltered and plus there are so many people acting as windblocks that I think we'll be ok.
Off we go to Estoril and I will try and find a space for my towel and try and not to step on anyone.
- The Estoril Coast
- Costa de Caparica
- Guincho
Anyway, after a few sulks and strops, threats of physical violence and threats to embargo sex (all from both sides) S got her way and got me onto the beach. After all the fuss it wasn't as bad as I feared and there are indeed many plus points: I discovered that swimming in the sea is actually one of my favourite activities, a fact that S discovered to her embarrassment when she tried to get me out of the sea and I turned into a 5 year old.
So this weekend, as most, the choice comes down to 3. The current favourite is Estoril, not my first choice I have to admit, the main reason being is that the beaches there are so small that the people are packed in like sardines (another reason that I wouldn't admit to S is that Estoril is also lacking in the...ahem....young crowd that go to Caparica, the view is much better there from what I have seen). But for us the deciding factor for us today is, sadly, wind. Being located, as it is, on the edge of Europe, Portugual gets its fair share of wind which turn the beaches into a sandblasting experience. Guincho is famous for this and is in fact a bit of a surfing hotspot because of it. Usually Caparica is ok but last time I lost a layer of skin and today it seems pretty windy in town so it must be quite bad there. Estoril is relatively sheltered and plus there are so many people acting as windblocks that I think we'll be ok.
Off we go to Estoril and I will try and find a space for my towel and try and not to step on anyone.
Wednesday, 19 August 2009
Portuguese hair...
Prompted by my previous post in which I mentioned the local phenomenon of 'right-wing hair', and also my own impending need for a haircut, I have decided to concentrate today's post on the more general phenomenon of 'Portuguese Hair'.
As demonstrated previously, by the charming photo of Paulo Portas, right-wing hair is largely a matter of letting ones' hair grow to a reasonably long length before swinging it all over to one side. This is not to be confused with the comb-over (the traditional mask of baldness in the UK which is sadly going out of fashion since the days of Sir Bobby Charlton), as Portuguese men typically have strong and vibrant hair.
N.B. This article does refer primarily to Portuguese men but some aspects are applicable to men and women.
Neither should 'right-wing hair' be confused with the much more general (but sadly no longer ubiquitous) phenomenon of 'Portuguese hair'. 'Right-wing hair' is an extreme version of the general style. I first came across the subject in a purely theoretical manner when researching the term 'portugeezer' and mixed amongst the terms I came across 'Portuguese afro'. According to the Urban Dictionary this is defined as,
"Found on Portuguese males thick nappy like hair, that maintains the same style no matter what kind of hair cut you get. It tends to puff and curl back on the front."
After reading this definition the more I looked around the more I saw there to be a glimmer of truth behind the course generalisation. The style is particularly common in certain social strata here and living, as I do, in somewhat of a business district, near Saldanha, I see more than my fair share of it. Other places that I have found where this style is common would be around the ministries and parliament (can sometimes be confused with 'right-wing hair) and, of an evening, those bars and clubs frequented by those referred to (by some) as betas (who will later grow into tios/tias, they are all slightly mocking terms for a certain type of middle-class Portugueser who follow similar social conventions, shop at the same shops, attend the same bars and clubs, dress in a similar fashion etc.), often in and around Cascais/Estoril.
After a (very) quick trawl of the web I can provide you with something of a visual aid to help you get a better picture in your mind and also to illustrate some of the subtle differences:
We have here four shining examples, whilst different they are all united by a lustrous thickness of the hair (a quality I share with these men) and also a rather cavalier approach to parting. I don't know but I believe that the ultimate aim is for the hair not to look brushed but rather
sculpted from one piece. The added bonus of having such hair is that, unlike the hoi polloi who often attempt an imitation of their beloved Christiano Ronaldo (and who have been purposefully ignored in this examination of Portuguese society and culture), no additional products are needed to keep the hair in place. Countless money is saved on spray and gel.
So now you know, have fun spotting and for the real professionals see if you can tell at 100 paces the difference between 'right-wing hair' and 'Portuguese hair'.
As demonstrated previously, by the charming photo of Paulo Portas, right-wing hair is largely a matter of letting ones' hair grow to a reasonably long length before swinging it all over to one side. This is not to be confused with the comb-over (the traditional mask of baldness in the UK which is sadly going out of fashion since the days of Sir Bobby Charlton), as Portuguese men typically have strong and vibrant hair.
N.B. This article does refer primarily to Portuguese men but some aspects are applicable to men and women.
Neither should 'right-wing hair' be confused with the much more general (but sadly no longer ubiquitous) phenomenon of 'Portuguese hair'. 'Right-wing hair' is an extreme version of the general style. I first came across the subject in a purely theoretical manner when researching the term 'portugeezer' and mixed amongst the terms I came across 'Portuguese afro'. According to the Urban Dictionary this is defined as,
"Found on Portuguese males thick nappy like hair, that maintains the same style no matter what kind of hair cut you get. It tends to puff and curl back on the front."
After reading this definition the more I looked around the more I saw there to be a glimmer of truth behind the course generalisation. The style is particularly common in certain social strata here and living, as I do, in somewhat of a business district, near Saldanha, I see more than my fair share of it. Other places that I have found where this style is common would be around the ministries and parliament (can sometimes be confused with 'right-wing hair) and, of an evening, those bars and clubs frequented by those referred to (by some) as betas (who will later grow into tios/tias, they are all slightly mocking terms for a certain type of middle-class Portugueser who follow similar social conventions, shop at the same shops, attend the same bars and clubs, dress in a similar fashion etc.), often in and around Cascais/Estoril.
After a (very) quick trawl of the web I can provide you with something of a visual aid to help you get a better picture in your mind and also to illustrate some of the subtle differences:
We have here four shining examples, whilst different they are all united by a lustrous thickness of the hair (a quality I share with these men) and also a rather cavalier approach to parting. I don't know but I believe that the ultimate aim is for the hair not to look brushed but rather
sculpted from one piece. The added bonus of having such hair is that, unlike the hoi polloi who often attempt an imitation of their beloved Christiano Ronaldo (and who have been purposefully ignored in this examination of Portuguese society and culture), no additional products are needed to keep the hair in place. Countless money is saved on spray and gel.
So now you know, have fun spotting and for the real professionals see if you can tell at 100 paces the difference between 'right-wing hair' and 'Portuguese hair'.
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
When in Roma...
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.
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.
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.
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