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| Porto to Lisbon, Spain - |
Hotel rooms are relatively small and I have learned to adapt to living in the same tiny space with the twink, which is roughly the size of my bedroom and ensuite back in Melbourne, or London for that matter. Air conditioning is always nice to have but now I must plan to be the first in the bathroom to have a shower and use the toilet in the morning. I tend to get distracted by work after rolling out of bed and if I delay my usual personal hygiene regime until after the twink uses the toilet, I am left disgusted. His diet has devolved over the last month which means what he deposits into the porcelain throne not only stinks up the bathroom and makes it unusable but for some time but the noisome odour will matriculate into the general living area and make me hate living (and working) in a hotel room. I have learned to adapt my schedule though - I use the bathroom before he locks himself in it for thirty minutes, however planning movements (sic) like this, is not something that I am used to being an only child.
Before checking out of the Mercure Porto, I drove the twink the local laundromat to clean all of our clothes before I returned to pack my possessions and conclude a few webex sessions. Checking out from the hotel was straight-forward and I was surprised that the alcohol bill wasn't huge despite the barman pushing a few glasses of expensive Port that is older than both of us combined after we first turned up at the hotel. Not much time was spent in the hotel bar fortunately since Porto is such a great place to wander around and explore and I left delighted, although fatigued. After collecting the twink from the laundromat, we hauled arse down the motorway listening to the latest album by 30 Seconds to Mars. I prefer their older stuff but after having the sophomore album by 5 Seconds of Summer on repeat, I am confident that the twink appreciated the change.
I planned a stop at one of the roadside service stations conveniently at the time I needed to pump more diesel into the tank but also right before I had my last webex session scheduled for work. We found the picnic area which is a lovely shaded enclave and I set up shop on a table. Just as the webex session started, not one, but two large families decided to push their prams, screaming children and begin to unpack their picnic baskets into what was once a sombre area. The screaming kiddies upset the cicadas in the trees and they started making a fair amount of noise. I toddled off and stood in the sun far away from the unexpected chaos and shouted into the phone. The meeting organiser neglected to ring in and after some pleasant conversation about the weather in England, everyone wished each other a good weekend. Minutes later, I was pumping diesel into the motorcar and speeding down the expressway like a bat out of hell.
As it was laundry day, I was strategically wearing my gym shorts and singlet and looked very bogan (redneck) with my hair standing high in the air showing off my embarrassing tan lines. The twink mentioned that since I wasn't wearing boxer briefs, I wasn't exactly hiding what I have on offer but since I was rather tired after the 300km drive and a bit hungover after the degustation the previous night at Antiqvvm, I really didn't give a toss. When I presented myself to Reception at the Mercure (Lisboa) Lisbon, I observed the lady at reception give my black nylon shorts an extend look and greeted me without looking at me in the eyes before taking our passports. She assigned us to the "privilege" floor which meant free soft drinks and juices from the minibar though. We agreed to spend the evening in the hotel bar (as I didn't want to change and play tourist in Lisbon, as I had previously visited the city for nearly a week not long ago) and really just wanted to relax. We quickly found seats at the bar and I introduced the twink to Vinho Verde which is "green wine" from the Minho province in Portugal. Basically, its very young wine but certain vintages are really tasty I have found. It is hit and miss. The bar-lady claimed to have a bottle that wasn't on the menu and poured us a bit to taste. "We will have that!" I exclaimed, sat back and enjoyed the booze. The bartender and the twink kept their eyes on my gym shorts as I quaffed back the majority of the bottle and asked for another one.
After a lady with a Canadian accent presented herself at the bar, she asked the bar-lady for a "light" beer. I spoke to her partner about my green wine which he had never heard of before whilst the Canadian began to sip from her glass of Sangres. I asked her if she wanted an amber coloured beverage or a low alcohol content beer like is usually on tap in North America. She admitted that she wanted lone with low alcohol content and proceeded to say that pint of beer was only the third beer that she had had in her life and she is 46 years old. She then articulated her outrage about being charged 10€ for butter at lunch. Apparently, she kept requesting the small individually wrapped morsels of butter and the restaurant that she was at charged her 1€ for each square. I could not help but laugh as she proceeded to tell me how good the chicken was. Nobody has ever charged me for butter, and that is just outrageous. Who eats that much butter anyway? Not long after her confession, she met an American who professed to be a "property broker" in Lisbon and he was doing the hard-sell on the Canadian's parents to invest US$100k in property which would supposedly yield a 10% return. The twink made me promise not to say anything and even threatened to leave the bar if I interjected in their private and ridiculous conversation. I instead took interest in the third bottle of Vinho Verde and kept my nose out of their business. Fools and their money, or so they say. I ended up getting drunk and thought it would be a good idea to buy some cryptocurrency but since both Monzo and Lloyds Bank blocked the transaction, I ended up transferring the cash onto my car loan. Makes sense right?
On Saturday morning the twink insisted on chilling out at the hotel whilst I brewed coffee from the machine in the room. He didn't feel well, so we made a deal and didn't leave until 11:00 AM on the dot. With the sun shining unencumbered by clouds and the UV index registered as high, I sadly applied sunscreen to my face, neck and upper chest since I was wearing a "V" cut shirt. Sunscreen clogs my pores and I begin to sweat profusely when I heat up, which only took a matter of minutes after leaving the hotel as we walked to the Metro. I became uncomfortable so quickly that I ordered an Uber to take us to Old Town in Lisbon, which would have cost the same as taking the bloody Metro anyway. Despite the Uber driver having made nearly 2,000 trips, she didn't seem very confident on the road and avoided getting into two accidents which made me happy with the decision to not to drive into Alfama - Old Town Lisbon.
We roamed the streets which were still familiar to me as I had previously visited Lisbon for a week in December 2016. General malaise quickly overcame the twink, but he soldiered on, walking 15,000 steps before insisting on shade and liquids. Every few minutes we were offered "hash, marijuana or coke" from one of the dodgy blokes selling fake sunglasses to the tourists. I quizzed the last one if he had heroin and he was shocked or disgusted, I am not sure, but it was probably a combination of the two. We found a free table outside at the Time Out Markets (sponsored by the free magazine) and I ordered cod. The twink just wanted Coca-Cola and claimed the smell of greasy food in Alfama was going to make him vomit only minutes ago. The twink is not one to complain, which made me believe he was indeed feeling awful. He was happy to sip on Coca-Cola as I quickly guzzled two pints of beer and shoved the tasty cod down my throat. After, we found a bar on the edge of the river with a free table under an umbrella. We spent a good three hours people watching with the statue of Christ high on the hill across the river in the background. The twink drowned his sorrows with Coke and I imbibed on pints of beer before ordering an Uber. The Uber driver has to have been the best one that I ever have had and was an awesome conversationalist and had us laughing our arses off. Sadly he got us back to the Mercure before we were done taking the piss, long before our phones were exhausted.
The twink regenerated in the hotel room whilst I hung out in the hotel bar and enjoyed another bottle of Vinho Verde before retiring myself. It wasn't a truly action-packed day as I wanted to take the tourist ferry down the river however they only accepted cash despite having an EFT machine on the desk within the kiosk. Portugal seems to be a cash-based society which I find strange, but I do applaud the twink for originally agreeing to go on the boat feeling as sick as he did. The hours of drinking beer on the edge of the river were much nicer in retrospect and it was the highlight of my short visit to Lisbon.
In the morning I didn't rush the twink to get his arse moving and instead let him snore whilst I read the frustrating Australian news. He proclaimed that he felt better once conscious and he was keen to get on the road and play the role of tourist. The excursion to Lisbon was only for the weekend and after a relatively low-key time with a few good laughs (especially after meeting the lady who paid the butter tax) I recharged myself as after thirty days of being on the road, I was starting to get burned out but even now as I type, I have a new sense of enthisasm for the next few weeks which are planned in Spain, Gibraltar and Morrocco. I am happy to report that the twink is on the mend and nearly free of his general malaise and has committed to improving his diet. Praise be.
Next stop: Faro, Portugal
