November 24, 2010

We went to Portugal over the weekend.  The place had it all.  Lisbon, the capital, and Sintra, a small town just outside of it.  Check it out if you can or google image search it if you can’t.

On the way, we got lost.    I was afraid and considered writing a hipster screenplay about the situation.  The first line: ‘Being lost on the way to Portugal is like a metaphor for my childhood.’

Our two wise companions – tall Aidan and Jenna C- kept our morale up.  Don’t worry, they purred, we’ll find it soon enough.  I stopped crying long enough to join Aidan in asking a local fireman for help.

I even summoned the nerve to ask him in Spanish, which in retrospect was stupid because what if he answered in Spanish?  I would still be lost.   Luckily there was an English speaker.  In my hipster screenplay, this would be the point where the Portuguese man and I would hug and realize that we both spoke Swahili.  It would reek of irony, but not false irony.

Except, in real life, we got lost again.

It didn’t help that I can’t really drive.  Dan G. can attest to this: there is no one in New England who takes wider right turns.  Coupled with the fact that I have trouble moderating speed- either way too fast or, more often, way too slow- and it’s a frustrating experience for all passengers.

But there’s two things I’m good at: stealing people’s clothing and being lost.  Fortunately, so were my car partners.  We were driving and driving around in Lisbon, admiring its many fine attractions and sites, with no idea how to get to our hostel.

For all the Bethany fans out there, she did not disappoint.  What a weekend.  I mean the girl can drive and she’s steady.   If she were a boy I’d call her Steady Freddy Flint.  (Author’s note: Respect to Flint Michigan)

When it started raining in hour 11 of what was supposed to be a 5 hour ride, I was sure that was it.  I began writing an eloquent poem about my experience.   The first line was ‘Rain, Lisbon, death…’ It was very avant-garde and I think I might submit it.  First I need to consult my life coach.

We finally got there and all was well.  ‘Praise be…’ I said, in a shout-out to my adolescence.

The hostel was actually a bungalow and there were trees and mulch everywhere.  Paradise to me, guys.  My ethos: modest accommodations are the very best accommodations.

We had a good weekend.  Lisbon looked like a city conceived by a sure-hand and the Portuguese people were friendly.

I should also mention that on the way back we somehow got 400 miles off track.  We took this one highway A2 when we should’ve taken A5.  If I were still teaching algebra, I would relate this anecdote in class.  ‘You see, math is important…’


2 Responses to “Lisboa”

  1. courtney said

    You never disappoint in your storytelling. Glad I wasn’t there though. Pictures?

    Happy Thanksgiving. Miss you guys!

  2. Courty girl you read my mind. Pictures posted.

    I think you would’ve liked the small town, Sintra. Water, castles, quaint, lots of color. Good stuff.

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