Lisboa Part 2

I slept for 13 hours. It was glorious. I went downstairs and was immediately served eggs, toast, coffee and this delicious Portuguese pear juice stuff. I was fully rested and prepared for a week of absolute exploration. I stocked up on America to Europe outlet adapters and a Portuguese simcard for my phone. I ran around Bairro Alto, the bar district, during the day. It was 3 PM and people were already starting to pound back the drinks. I watched a detached junkie looking dude pee in an alleyway with an older Lisbon lady. We laughed at him. I stumbled into a really awesome record store that strictly carried obscure European electronic music and the whole Animal Collective discography. I know that Panda Bear from Animal Collective lives in Lisbon and wondered if he had arranged this.

Lisbon is full of these cute old squares always overlooking something magnificent, filled with old gentlemen smoking and playing chess or some other game. It was beautiful and hot. I was happy to be so far South during the winter. I stopped in on an old family restaurant right before lunch time was over. I was the only one there except the family that owned the place. They watched me intently. I ordered in broken Portuguese and finished off in English. As I waited, the son sat down with me and spoke to me in moderately good English. He was fascinated with my Sonic Youth shirt. His name was Bernardo. He was obsessed with Lady Gaga. He smoked Camels. He was an artist. He said he would stayed up until the early hours of the morning listening to Lady Gaga and painting. He called me "Charlie the Musician". He invited me to check out his paintings at his apartment down the street. I declined. He seemed dope, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.

That night, I played guitar out in front of the hostel for a couple hours. I made some money and a lot of people came and hung out with me. Miguel, a guy I met through couchsurfing, met me there after he got off work. Him and his friend Edgar were going to show me around Barerro, a little town on the other side of the river, the next day and wanted to help me buy a boat ticket. We immediately got along and joked about all sorts of things. I bought my ticket with them and returned to the hostel. Nurragin, this awesome Norwegian guy who works at the hostel, was preparing a Portuguese style BBQ over a small, clay pig in the main room. We BBQ'd several different types of sausage, drank way too much wine and did some hardcore socializing. These 3 Dutch guys and I did some hanging out the rest of the night with these really cute French girls (whom I couldn't speak to). We sat outside the hostel and I played music for the drunk passer-byers while they danced and fought. This older Portuguese gentlemen decided I was the shit and started buying me beer. I would toast him, drink the beer, play music, look down and ooooohh goodness another beer? Why thank you! A strange group of party-happy teenage girls chilled with us for a bit and desperately wanted me to play Lady Gaga covers. The coincidence made me giggle. I played a bunch of songs I would play back home and loved that no one had ever heard them before. I was eventually deserted by the rest of my late night cohorts and stumbled back to bed, full of free beer and wine. Nothing better than free beer and wine.

The next morning was rough. I was huuuuuung over. Beer and wine...don't mix it. I downed some coffee and eggs and dragged myself to the boat station. The ride across the river was beautiful, with Lisbon setting behind the crest of the water. I was greeted by Miguel in Barrero. He had just played a vicious game of football and was covered in grass. We talked about the Crisis and how it effects Portugal. The unemployment rate is fucking blasphemy, something like 25-30%. We met up with his friend Edgar and started off on a tour of outer Lisbon. We got a traditional Portuguese sandwich, Biftec. Delicious pork and bread with some mustard. We took off for a rugged looking mountain range in distance. We stopped at the top and walked around for a bit. The mountain quickly dove down into the bay on the other side and the view was breathtaking. It reminded me of the drive on highway 1 north of Jenner towards Salt Point. There isn't much wildlife out in the countryside of Portugal and the trees are very interesting. They're thin. I liked them. There was an incredibly epic, gothic looking cement facility out in the middle of the wilderness. At the coast, we took a hike down to a sandy beach. The sand is so much thicker than in California and littered with little things like shells and pretty rocks. We drove over to a town called Setubal where Miguel had gone to college. The town was a color that reminded me of a crazy circus. Above the town we visited a thousand year old fortress with the coldest darn worship room I've ever been in. Overlooking the bay and Setubal, I explained to them the Occupy movement and we watched a daring bicyclist ride all the way up the steps. We picked up some ultra-churros called fraturas on the way out of Setubal and tortured ourselves with the delicious smell as they took me to an even older castle overlooking the whole area 360 and devoured the big fraturas. We went back to Barrero as the sun went down and enjoyed a meal they had been joking about all day, the fried cuddlefish. I explained to them that eating cuddlefish was a crime because all they wanted to do was cuddle. They objected - the cuddlefish had it coming. We stopped at a bar next to the boat station and took a celebratory shot of some high alcohol wine before we bid adeiu. They were the most excellent hosts and tour guides and I promised to return the favor if they ever made it out to California.

I was exhausted, but I had made plans to meet with another couchsurfing friend named Joao at a jazz club dubbed Onda Jazz. It is in the oldest neighborhood of Lisbon, Alfama. We met up, got some delicious sangria and chose a spot right next to the stage. Joao knows the owner and they treated us like good friends. The jazz group was from France. They kicked ass. They were a little more rock than jazz but they had this excellent dissonant style that resonated with me. Joao had just enough English to communicate with me well. He is a 53 year old math teacher and jazz musician. He loves fusion, like the Weather Report. We talked about black holes and Miles Davis. I spilled sangria on him. He laughed and didn't mind. After the show, I went back to the hostel expecting a quick descent into sleep. It was 1 AM and I was donezo. No. It was a party. People were playing king's cup in the main room. I had to kick it. I played guitar for people as they passed out on bean bags. The night crew and I chatted it up in the kitchen. We talked about Lisbon and how chill the people were. We traded music. We talked to these two Swedish girls who had to catch a flight at 5 AM and saw them off. They were drunk as fuck. So it goes. I nearly crashed sitting on the kitchen floor and decided to transplant myself into a dope bed. Goodnight, bitches.