Strangely Portugal

Sagres

With all those stories about karma filled with emotion, I neglected to talk about my latest destination : Portugal.

If I say San Francisco is one of my favorite cities in the whole world (until now) and Lisbon reminds me of San Francisco, it shows how I like the place.

The expected heat didn't show up. A modest 28 degrees Celsius was a "cold" maximum in here. I also needed to put a sweater on in the evening because it got chilly.

But it seems the sun will make its magic happen in the next few days, since we expect temperatures around 37 and 40.

Other thing : a very important music festival, with Radiohead as a headliner, took place last week-end. Everybody was converging to the capital and was trying to find a bed in a hostel.

I, again, had no clue that was happening. But it wasn't the end of the world. I packed my belongings, visited three different hostels in Lisbon, and booked a bus ticket to Lagos, in the south.

It is a party city where youth and douchebags are kings. So Lagos doesn't make me feel particularly at home. But the walk I made from cliff to cliff was worth it. Beaches are beautiful and not as commercial as the ones I saw in Greece.

The next day, for my birthday, I went to Sagres, where is Cape Saint-Vincent, the most south-eastern point in Europe. It is very windy but the view is amazing. The only shadow came from the information desk, closed, on which I was counting to help me find something to do. It is closed on Sundays et Mondays. Like all tourists were taking days off on these particular days.

That said, why is Portugal that strange? Because of my visa story, first, which brought me the help of a total stranger.

Because of that old lady, too, who gave me directions to find the bus station. She answered in Portuguese with informations I knew weren't right, because she didn't get the question. She gave me a very passionate kiss on the cheek when I said "Thank you". 

For the pepople working in the tourist business, who are the less sympathetic people in the country.

For that other old lady I took directions from, who looked intimidated at first, but whose eyes lightened up when I mumbled centro, to say I wanted to find my way back downtown.

For all those dealers, twelve for every square meter, offering hasch, cocaine and marijuana to tourists. They won't take no as an answer. They will follow you to make sure you understood what they had to offer.

For those waiters in Lagos restaurant, laughing each time they looked at me, until one of them, shy, came to ask me if I was an actor.

For that man who sat next to me while I was looking at the national palace and who told me why he was visiting Portugal, without any introduction. He's from Dubaï and he gave me his email address, saying he would organize a trip for me when I get to Dubaï. All of that in six minutes and a half.

For that Thai girl, I met two hours later, who asked at what time the metro stopped. I brought her safely to the next metro station without even knowing her name.

And Portugal is strange because here, girls think I'm funny...

It takes all sorts of people to make a world.