I'm struggling to remember anything noteworthy that happened from the week before Easter, so I'll assume that nothing did, up until Thursday that is.

 

After wrapping up lessons for the week, I met Steve in Labios de Vinho for a few beers and we were joined by Tomas and the gang around midnight before heading to the corner near Mezcal (the usual hang-out/ starting place for most of the Erasmus mob). We were with Tomas's 2 new housemates Andy (Belgian Andy for ease of ID) and Lucy, Jorge (Spanish) and Bart (Belgian) had also joined us along with assorted Belgian friends (fingers twitch at the keyboard as I try to work in some reference to 'It's a knockout' - but alas the e-mail already has a title...). It was destined to be a Mercado night again as Carl Craig was playing there and I was already getting a bit panicky about getting in. I'm not sure why, but when I really want to go somewhere/do something,  I start having irrational fears about everything going wrong and not getting in for one reason or another, I'm sure it's pretty annoying to others and is rather all consuming for me. But once it sets in, I just have to go regardless of company or reason (sad but true). So off I went, with the rest of the gang still pondering the options. The huge queues, sold out signs, or cancellation that had seemed so inevitable, never materialised - so I went straight in. 

 

The night was going well, Carl Craig was playing some really nice atmospheric deep house, and it has to go down as one of my favourite nights in Mercado despite some stiff competition. Tomas arrived with Lucy in tow and had quite impressively managed to get more drunk than when I'd left them earlier, and it appeared that Tomas had decided it was a good idea to play matchmaker with a performance that Cilla couldn't dream of (well probably wouldn't want to actually, subtle it wasn't). He had a game plan and an array of tactics, from pep-talks to questioning ones masculinity, and even some moves straight out of  the playground with the odd push and nudge that would have made Roy Keane proud - he wasn't gonna be denied despite my protestations that 'it wasn't that simple'. But on leaving the club, a bit of a boogie to a Moodymann record was as far as I'd got. We went back to Tomas's house and had some food, but Tomas hadn't given up yet and decided to take Belgian Andy out for a few drinks, and leave us alone in the flat. Conversation was a little staggered as the alcohol had rendered Lucy's English to the same level as my Italian but a few smiles seemed to suggest progress was being made, and was it my imagination or had she slipped into something a little more comfortable? Shortly after we'd retired to the living room to listen to a some music, Belgian Andy aplogetically burst in, and within 5 minutes I was called into the kitchen for a 'word'. He asked what was going on, so I explained the rather strange situation, before informing me that Tomas wasn't the only one with designs for her - my night was getting more bizarre by the minute, if only I knew....

 

A short while and a bit more chatting later and Lucy had said she was quite tired, followed by the show stopping line of  "So, we go to bed". It puzzles me why "Faux Pas" is  French when it's clearly much more of a British phenomena, it seems a bit ironic but without falling back on national stereotypes I wouldn't have thought the French would need it too much, whereas we don't even have our own word- when surely it should be the lexical equivalent of 'snow' to the eskimos. As I was in all too familair territory and given the lack of obvious indicators leading up to this to this moment, rolled in with the language barrier, I decided to proceed with caution and asked for a bit of clarification, which was replied with "We just sleep".Well no red card and the rules of the game established -  I thought was a bit of a result, particularly as I hadn't signed anything. No further clarification was required as she followed this with "So I show you my room", which she did and then wondered off leaving me in there to ponder my next move. Ok, maybe I make myself comfortable, don't want to rush things - get undressed and jump into bed, so easy does it. So I slipped off my shoes and sat on the bed. This done, she returned and delivered a bit of a curve-ball "So, we see another day", my green light was looking decidedly more amber by the minute, but my optimistic side was trying to convince me that this may be some phillosohical comment akin to 'taking each day as it comes and being thankful for each one", it wasn't. It's at about at this stage when I realised it wasn't happening, that I spotted my shoes so plain to see on the floor and began to pray that the floor could swallow them up, it didn't. Maybe I could kick them under the bed, and retrieve them at a later date. Too late! They had been spotted and I was hurriedly slipping them back on, to minimise the embarrassment I'd made such cautious steps to avoid. Said my goodbyes and was soon on my way home.

 

Well you win some, you lose some. I just don't understand why my losses always seem to be so painfully awkward and faux pas laden - why do I have to be so English. Oh well, it does provide good material to write about I guess and I pondered whether this factor could potentially effect the decisions I make and where that would leave me. At least I was set to escape to Zambujeira for a few days for Easter. 

 

Andy (andygouldin@gmail.com)     

Forgive me readers for I have sinned! It has been several weeks since my last Blog-fession!

 

Finally got the internet connection working in the new place, embarrassingly enough I discovered I’d turned off my wireless connection (I didn’t know it was possible) and had spent three weeks trying all kinds of elaborate technical attempts to remedy the situation (maybe it was better not to share this but a bit late now).

 

The first weekend in the new place was mostly spent building Ikea furniture, scraping walls and painting, punctuated by the usual routine of nights out including a rather random get together of various friends in Bar Q for Barca v Madrid, on to OKA with Ale and her brasiliera amigas, then off to Tago Bar to finish us off.

 

My parents were here for the week, so my week was pretty full and involved a few trips out to Cascais for lunch, pleasant walks round Lisbon and the like, squeezing in several midweek outings including a real highlight, going to see a Portuguese group going by the name of Alien Freak Show, despite this being only their second gig we’d already had a sneak preview of their material as they practise at a place on Travessa da Portuguesa and we could hear them from our old flat. It’s a curious act to explain, the music alone is excellent, but they inject a lot of humour into the performances without it becoming gimmicky, you can’t help but smile (the girls – Gisa, Lena and Maria – described them/ their act as cute – and I’d have to agree), random manic screams of Timmy!!, a song based around a chorus of “eeeeehhh, ya, yah, ya, yah!!” (a personal favourite) and a song of lines from the Big Lebowski were all part of the act and were definite highlights.

 

The weekend was the usual blur of Bairro Alto drinking sessions thrown together with a  Thai meal, a trip to a new Brasilian bar ‘Ar Puro’. I’d spent Saturday with the folks, walking around Alfama, stopping off at Chapito for a bit of light lunch (always a crowd pleaser), bit of a trek around Estrela and Principe Real, before settling down to some nice seafood and the classico of Sporting vs. Porto, (rather ironically it was far from a classic and Porto rolled out winners by the only goal, which pretty much seals the Championship for them) Saturday night was concluded in Mercado (again, sorry,  I know but they do get a regular supply of good acts, it’s hard not to) Faze Action were in attendance this time. One of my new flatmates, Polona, was working too so the Bombay and Tonic’s flowed, and I remember walking home rather drunk. I also remember warming up some of Barbara’s home made soup and how good it tasted, but little more. Polona told me the next day that when she got home I was fast asleep sat in the kitchen with a bowl of soup in front of me. I woke the next morning in bed, but I still don’t remember moving.

 

All for now, but I’m still a couple of weeks behind so further chapters will follow shortly now I’m back on-line, and there’s quite a bit to tell you!

 

Andy (andygouldin@gmail.com)

Spent a rather nervy Saturday waiting to see if were gonna get kicked out, but nothing happened, all very strange as landlord wasn't responding to calls or messages. Saturday night was Clube Mercado again, for the another slice of Jazzanova (Alex this time), went for a few beers with Juan and Danny in Noobai and Estadio (a very local bar..for local.... favourite of Steve's and at bottle's of beer for a euro, now a favourite of mine and Juan's. Next stop Mercado, bumped into Stefania in the club, who decided we should mimic a couple of Portuguese folks who were dancing like they were on day release, with elbows and other bits flying eveywhere - not sure it looked so cool, but did gain us a fair bit of space on the dance floor but not too many friends. The music was good, with some highlights, Pal Joey's version of Shake Dat Booty caused a bit of confusion with the locals for a while, which really amused me. T'was a good night and all for €5 with a free drink, and we stumbled out around 4am having worked up a bit of a hunger, so I was led to an umnmarked open apartment door and one of the rooms upstairs was filled with tables of people drinking beer and eating, I was urged to check out the kitchen, which was well, like a kitchen really, but somebodies kitchen not a restaurant one, a group of people were sat around a table in the centre watchin tv, while a guy ferried beer and plates of food into the other room. The place was Cape Verdian and named after the popular dish I'd been advised to order, Cachupa. It was nice too, very tasty and appropriately filling after a night of beer. The sun was coming up as we walked home, Stefania was keen to stay up longer, but I was beat. Not sure if the alcool had anything to do with it, but I'd agreed to take part in a photo shoot, Stefania wanted to do for her photography course as she wanted someone with someone with white skin, to contrast against her Brasilian flatmate Alex, who'd already been roped in.

Met Bob, Dave and Tim for Monday lunch 'pizza-club' then went to see Brokeback Mountain, which I thought was excellent, despite a woman sat near me, who persistently talked (not whispered), seemingly oblivious to the chorus of shhhhh's that followed. It's not really a unique occurance over here, can't remember if I mentioned it but previously someone answered their mobile on more than one occasion and chatted away without leaving their seat during Match Point, I ask you - bizarre! The evening was mostly spent alternately being photographed with a bright light glaring at me as I tried to keep a straight face, or at least avoid giggling fits, topless I might add, or holding the light for Alex. It was certainly different, I'm yet to see the results - but I wouldn't expect to see them posted on here. Finished off in a different Italian for my second Pizza of the day.

 

As luck would have it my Tuesday night class cancelled as they wantedto see the Benfica game - there is a God and it seemshe likes footy - well naturally! So I joined Tim, Yuko and others for the full match experience (well the best non-ticket option anyways), Bifana's and beer near the ground before retreating to Tim's to watch the game and eats snacks (including - you guessed it pizza - I'm not even that bigger fan - honestly). The final whistle was followed by a mad dash to the pump house to watch Arsenal stuff Juventus, beating the rush and completing a perfect night of football. Sadly not repeated with Wednesday's offering but hey..

 

By Thursday, with one day to go we still hadn't found a place to live, and there wasn't much in the papers, Juan was off to see a place while I was teaching and I went back with him when I returned as he said it had potential, and it has, the fact that the room had no furniture and needs painting was not a substantial enough barrier in our state of desperation - and the owner (Ricardo) although I've not met him yet seems like a nice guy and wants to get things done - so after meeting our 2 new housemates to be, Barbara (Portuguese) and Polona (Slovenian) we took it - ready to move in on the Friday. 

 

Alice Russell (you know, usually sings with Quantic, now does her own stuff - yeah that's her) was singing at Lux on Thursday night and I'd arranged to meet Landy, so off we popped - and it was muito bom too, I thought she would be good live and she was, an amazing voice almost eclipsed by a huge guy who was playing some new-fangled violin type thing, but somehow had a higher voice than she did- Impressive if not a little odd.

 

I spent virtually all of Friday, packing, emptying the old apartment and shifting things, finally finishing past midnight, so plans of celebratory beers evolved into tea and marmite on toast around the kitchen table - a first taste for Barbara, Maria and Juan (Marmite, not Tea), and they weren't put off, despite not being too keen on the appearance or smell, although they don't hate it, I'm not sure the love it yet either - they need further work clearly. We talked til around 6, mainly in Portuguese/ Spanish and again my contribution was a little limited, before calling it a night - I'm pretty sure my Portuguese will improve rapildy living here though - the process as already begun.