Romans And Ladies Underwear
On my last night in Evora I went up to the Roman columns, one of the most impressive structures in town (especially when lit up at night) and watched an outdoor fashion show.
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Rizla Or Plastic Panty Liner?
Shintaro, like Kato from the Pink Panther, kept popping up everywhere I went. As soon as I walked into the dorm room and introduced myself he offered me a jelly panty liner wrapped in plastic and, unwrapping his and sticking it to his forehead, he repeated the word “cool”.
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Computer Says ‘No’, OK?
After about 2 minutes he stood up and handed me a leaflet entitled “Throughout the rich history of Portugal, who is the most important discoverer?” As he resumed his crouching position to continue his rummaging I flicked through the leaflet, intrigued to find out who the most important discoverer was. Surely it was Prince Henry the Navigator? No. Was it Pedro Alvares Cabral? Nope. How about Vasco da Gama? No!
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Evora’s Hostels Aren’t Hostile
Evora is a beautiful baroque and rococo (hoorah!) walled city, reminding me of something out of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, not least because the town was full of old people who all knew each other, and perhaps because I couldn’t see any children. Indeed many residents were hot contenders for the position of Child Catcher.
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Beja – An Oasis In Desolate Surroundings
My train journey to Beja took me through the Alentejo region, which had recently been subject to fierce fires that swept across the entire region. The Algarve and the Alentejo regions are miles upon miles of desolate, arid, dry mud fields, broken up by cork oaks and olive groves.
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Learn To Speak Portuguese
The most obvious sign of the conspiracy is the Portuguese language. Although the written word looks very much like Spanish the spoken word actually sounds like a cross between Arabic and Nordic. In other words they make it up as they go along. When the locals speak amongst themselves they are actually speaking Spanish, but whenever a tourist is present they break into a language that does not actually exist.
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Bearded Ladies & Screaming Brats
Upon my return the bearded man-woman had taken it upon herself to keep my towel warm by spreading her fat self across my sun-lounge. When I indicated that she was in my space she grunted but didn’t move. OK, so she could keep the sun-lounge but I wanted my towel back.
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Chilling On Praia De Rocha Beach
My, my, how circumstances change. All of a sudden I find myself without purpose and a lot of time on my hands doing nothing but sunbathing. No bad thing, I hear you say, but this hadn’t been the plan.
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It’s A Dog’s Life
Unlike their UK cousins who are pampered and spoilt and called Fifi or Derek, Portuguese dogs runs tings. They’ve got gangster names like Bullet Dodger Biffhead, Four Star Flash Killer and Cruel Cat-Chaser Crusher. They cruise the streets like they own the place, window shopping in town and congregating and plotting up in the valleys.
Escape From The Toothless Hag
Over the next couple of days Mario would try to teach me Portuguese. Every time I repeated a word he would tell me I’d said it wrong. He’d repeat it again, this time sounding completely different. Every time he taught me a new word I never learned it as he corrected me over and over again, repeating the word with different emphasis each time.
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It’s Like Liverpool, But In The Sun
A brief walk round Albufeira justified my rather snobbish attitude towards the holiday makers here. They had all congregated in the town square to watch the street performers, and which street performer had attracted the biggest audience? The band of South American pan-pipe players! Wrong continent, you sad bunch of losers.
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Albufeira. Club 18-30 Here We Come!
Instead I had to consider the possibility of staying in Albufeira. Ever heard of it? I had, and it conjured up images of Club 18-30 slags and warm lager.
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The Cultural Divide Of Portugal
And then we entered the Algarve. If ever a country demonstrated a distinction between the north and the south then Portugal must surely be the most extreme. The north, mountainous, green and lush is dominated by tradition and culture. It’s very poor.
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Being John Malkovich In Lisbon
Lisbon is as cosmopolitan as Porto is traditional. This is apparent as soon as you hit the streets, which are bustling with travellers, hippies, performers, artists, musicians, Bohemians, and gays. Yes, it seems Lisbon is home to the hom. A wrong look in the direction of one of the many pretty boys here and you could find yourself in a tight spot. Literally.
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I’m Jumping Ship!
Shock! Horror! Following Lorraine’s confirmation that she is jumping ship I have decided to follow suit. Prompted by an incident yesterday I have decided to do myself a favour and take a break, heading inland towards the capital, Lisbon.