To that end this post will be filled with nothing but effusive praise, something which I can assure my readers is not forced and I am not short of. The past week has been a trying one for a number of reasons but has not been without its highlights, it has been in turn hectic, stressful, painful and nausea inducing.
Last Thursday was an almost entirely positive day, I had been having a rather productive week at work, my paper is coming on well and there has suddenly been an influx of resources for my subject matter. They're not particularly good resources, most of them are either badly out of date, overly specific or else American (urgh, they should not be allowed to write seriously on the subject of drugs!) and we also had a chuckle at the INCB report that came out and seemed to have been written from the stone age. It really was like a drugs report that you'd expect your grandma to write, absolutely no comprehension of the realities in the world and they even managed to get the name of this organisation wrong (using the word Abuse rather than Addiction, Abuse is a term rarely if ever used here). I also did a few bits and pieces for colleagues including editing an interesting paper on drugs policy analysis.
Late in the afternoon I had the pleasurable surprise of spotting a job that I would love. I wouldn't say I would be perfect for it as I'm hugely inexperienced and under qualified but in the spirit of 'nothing ventured, nothing gained' I applied. It's with the UN in Vienna in the human trafficking department of UNODC as a project coordinator. There was also a job in a higher grade that was specifically in the field of drugs but the experience they were asking for was 7 years and I thought this was asking a bit much plus the vacancy I did apply for actually had experience in drug supply control as an advantageous requirement. I will probably hear nothing from it but I would like to keep in the habit of applying for jobs and updating my CV as it's never an easy task and one can easily get out of practice. It would be great to get some form of feedback from the application but I am realistic about my prospects.
Friday was spent largely on errands, I had to go to the supermarket and pick up a few things but I also had to pop over to the Universidade Nova de Lisboa to sign up for my Portuguese language course. I felt it best to start at the beginning because even though I know a few phrases and can get by with some basics I don't want to carry on with any of the bad habits I might have picked up. Plus this way I can always be the first person in the class with my hand up, a habit I have never grown out of. My schedule now is quite good, there are two classes a week, each two hours long. I'll be there Monday 18:00-20:00 and Friday 18:00-20:00. The Friday classes are particularly convenient as soon S will be returning to classes and we can meet for dinner and chats, in fact we'll actually be in the same building which will be fun.
On the way back from the faculty I had the opportunity to take a photograph of one of my favourite bits of graffiti in Lisbon. This is a building which from the looks of it is still occupied, although possibly by squatters. It's one of the classic bits of crumbling Lisbon that I love, the faded decadence. I'm not a big fan of the renovations that you see popping up everywhere and even less the new buildings but these crumbling monuments are wonderful.
Someone here is evidently a fan of acid and wishes to proclaim it on one of the busiest roads in Lisbon. Over the next few weeks I'll have to try and grab photos of my other favourite bits of graffiti. The city is excellent for it but sadly the suburbs just seem to be full of scribbles and tags. As I learn more of the language I'm also finding more and more amusing and political phrases scribbled around so I'll try and get some of those too.
Friday evening was a break from the studying that had kept S occupied all week. We had planned a visit to the cinema to see Mike Leigh's Happy Go Lucky (the DVD of which I remember expressly planning on stealing from my mum's last time I was there but I forgot). We had invited a few people but in the end it was just J who responded so rather than the effort and expense we decided to have a chilled night in, I would cook and we could watch of the DVDs S had borrowed from her boss which were (ahem) completely legal!
As it turned out it was really quite fortunate that this was the plan as S had, in the course of the day, picked up some stomach bug. S has notoriously sensitive digestive system and I hoped it was just a case that she'd drunk some milk within 24 hours of eating an orange or something innocuous like that that had set her stomach growling but it soon became apparent that it was something a bit more serious. It was for the best that we decided to stay in, J and I shared a rather overstuffed ham, mushroom and goats cheese Calzone that I prepared and which S quite rightly didn't want to risk and then we set about watching Woody Allen's latest bit of fluff, Vicky Christina, Barcelona.
I never expected the film to be a masterpiece but neither was it awful. It did leave me wondering why on earth Penelope Cruz was nominated for best supporting actress at the Oscars (but it was no stranger than Josh Brolin's nomination for Milk). The girls of course swooned over Javier Bardem who is quite obvious in his Latin charm whilst I was left with a disappointing Scarlett Johansson who is becoming blander and blander as time passes and Rebecca Hall who looked much more awkward than in her (admittedly pointless but glamorous) role in Frost/Nixon. I was pleased to note, though, that some of the indoor action in Barcelona was shot in a bar I visited last summer at Primavera Sound, a very cool little absinthe bar which at the time was filled to the rafters with indie kids. (Incidentally the film also reminded me to give another listen to one of the most underrated, and sometimes mocked, albums of 2008 - Scarlett Johansson - Anywhere I Lay My Head.)
Saturday and Sunday consisted of me doing a bit of cleaning and tidying, a lot of reading and actually making a return to running...something which on Monday I paid the price for dearly when my muscles were so sore I could barely walk. S on the other hand had to contend with food poisoning whilst writing a paper on European politics. I have immense respect for this women managing to get it all done. Had I written this on Sunday I would've made some comment about her not knowing the term 'suffer in silence', Saturday was a rough night in which stomach pains kept her awake and she in turn ensured I knew she was being kept awake, however as Monday arrived and S had recovered, thanks to a diet of entirely white and tasteless food, I felt the first rumblings of something strange in my own stomach.
Through the increasing stomach cramps and the severe muscle strain from the run the night before I managed to waddle my way to work on Monday morning looking like a cross between a cowboy after a long ride and Raoul Duke and Dr Gonzo entering the Casino. I soon realised I had made a big mistake, I stuck it out at my desk for a couple of hours on the off chance it would go away but it was here to stay and so I dashed back home to curl up in bed. Here again praise should be heaped upon S because despite my less than sympathetic dealings with her convalescence (which consisted of preparing her white and tasteless food) she was very supportive, kind and loving despite the downright awful timing of my own illness. It was Carnival time and I had taken the day off on Tuesday so we could go out dancing on Monday. It turned out that by dancing time I did feel a lot better but we decided that it wasn't worth the risk to my health, better to get well then have the fun than spend the week regretting it.
Tuesday was a holiday here in Lisbon but rather than spending it with the anticipated hangover we instead were clear headed and thankful for the rest. We spent the morning having a big lie in and chatting and then drove to Estoril in the afternoon for lunch with the parents. It had been for the plan for me to take it easy with the food for a couple of days but I simply could not resist the Cozido à Portuguesa that S's mum had prepared which is pork and sausages (chouriço and morcela) and vegetables (lots of cabbage, carrot and turnip) boiled together and served with rice and beans. I avoided the blood sausage but otherwise had a pretty healthy appetite after my enforced fast of the previous day. After the meal we went for a drive with J to get a drink by the beach.
This was rather a pleasant drive, if a little longer than anticipated. It seemed that all of Lisbon was at the beach that day and therefore the roads were jam packed. We were predicting that that will be the story of the summer because as the credit crunch hits then people are not going to be visiting the Algarve or going shopping, they'll stick near to home.
After tea, beer and scones were consumed we made out way back to Estoril. It was good to spend some time with J and you get the impression she really enjoys the company now that she's split up with R. We dropped her off at her dad's and returned to S's parent's to watch the football. It was Man United v Inter and for 90 minutes me and S's dad could be united in our hatred of Jose Mourinho. It was a fascinating match, one which I believe was a definite moral victory for Man United and I definitely think I'm making some progress in making the Manchester Reds an adoptive team for him, as Benfica are now mine here.
Yesterday was spent doing some rather stressful party organising. 2 many DJs are playing a bar in Belem and I managed to get a few colleagues here interested in going, as well as a few of S's friend. The venue isn't great, it's expensive and posey and full of betalhada and it's a school night but the opportunities to get a few people out sadly don't come around too often and I think think some people could do with a little unwinding. So tonight will consist of going for a lovely Indian meal before drinks and dancing. It's been quite a while since I had a proper night out and I'm really looking forward to it.
