Well, having just about recovered from the lack of sleep from Zambujeira, Wednesday the 19^th of April came round, which was (of course) my Birthday. I had to teach the brats at Maristas, but decided to have a party instead, so I took along, sweets, crisps and more sweets and we played games for the whole lesson, using sweets as prizes and generally stuffing our faces with crisps throughout. That skinner bloke knew what he was doing, the attention was unbelievable – I’m almost tempted to take sweets to every lesson, just for a bit of peace and quiet! I’d cancelled my evening class, so it was next stop Pump House for a few birthday beers and the Arsenal game – quite a turn out too (obviously for me, not to see the Gooners crucial semi-final), most of the gang had to work the morning after so I’d said I’d save my big celebration for Thursday, Friday and Saturday. So after, leaving the pub, me and Juan sneaked off to Tomas’ place for dinner, then just a steady few beers. On Thursday afternoon, I missed a call, I tried to ring back but it wouldn’t ring. Later that evening, my phone rang again. I answered it and it was Nils (see Zambujeira page for details), he said he was here in Lisbon and could I meet him for a drink. I had to go teach but made arrangements for later, it’s only a drink. We met in Hennessy’s and before long he’d dropped the bombshell of not having much money, and asked if it’d be alright to stay. Bit of a quandary, but I could hardly say no, given that we had drunkenly invited him (I say we – but I’m still blaming Juan for starting this one, I was just foolish enough to pass on my number, let’s say it’s a lesson learned). So Nils, joined us for the Birthday celebrations (stage II), which ended up being a rather eclectic crowd,  trawling round Bairro Alto including Juan, Tomas, Bart, Andy (Belgian), Jorge and various Erasmus extras we dragged along the way, Uli, Ines and friends (Spelling?) and hanging around outside Mezcal. By the end of the night someone made the mistake of mentioning Cachupa – the Cape Verdean place, and that was it Juan wouldn’t have no for an answer, so off we went to round off a rather blurry evening.

On Friday I’d arranged to meet Tomas, and pick up some tickets for Indie Lisboa (the independant film festival, that would run for a week). I’d spent about 2 hours trying to squeeze as many films in as possible, carefully slotted between football matches, lessons and gigs – it wasn’t easy, we managed to buy tickets for an ambitious 11 films in 8 days – so our week ahead was set! Nils came along for the ride and then realised that he needed to get to the Post office as his friend was sending up his forgotten passport from Zambujeira, hmmm.

With the evening drawing in, no passport had arrived and Nils was still flapping about plans to get a bus back to Zambujeira and his lack of money, but not in any meaningful way. My helpful searches for bus times, didn’t bear any fruit – this was starting to become a bit of a nightmare! Nils didn’t have money to go out, and I’d arranged to meet Bart and Jorge to go to Zed des Bois for a gig so I was faced with a dilemma. Let someone I don’t know all that well stay in our apartment for the evening while I was out or turf him out onto the streets with no money. Although not entirely comfortable with the decision I went with the former option and still mananged to feel guilty about the whole thing (I could imagine my Dad’s perceived reaction of ‘Stupid boy’ and his irritation that I’m far too trusting where he would err on the side of caution. I met Jorge and Bart and shared the bizarre situation before we headed to the gig.

Panda bear had just started as we waltzed in on a freebie with Bart who works there. It was certainly different, bizarre electronica with some quirky keyboards, animal sounds and looped vocals – which reminded me I must get in touch with Joe. At it’s worst it sounded like a 5 year old, let loose with his new Casio keyboard and a dodgy microphone, but occasionally the vocals would form some beautiful and much needed rhythm and harmony to the whole affair. Jorge was less convinced. Black Dice were a bit heavier, but with a similar theme, reminded me of a bit of  four-tet, with some  Caribou (Manitoba) thrown in for good measure. The beauty through noise approach, wasn’t to everyone’s taste, but it was interesting and they had their moments.

Next we were off to a party in Alfama, which Uli had told Jorge about. It was all a bit awkward when we arrived as we didn’t know anyone, Uli wasn’t there and nobody seemed to know of her either. All the same we were made to feel comfortable and everyone was very friendly given the bizarre situation. Uli and Ines arrived a little later, and we stayed to the early hours before deciding to call it a night. My much needed slumber was broken by Nils waking me up at the un-Godly hour of 9am, to get some details so his mother could transfer some money to me, to pass on to him as he still didn’t have his passport. I’d also been allocated market shopping duties, and with an early kick off of Arsenal v. Tottenham (the crucial food poisoning game), I was starting to get a little stressed. Managed to whip round the market, into Rossio for the money transfer and back to the Pump House for the footy in record time and almost made the kick-off. And….relax, but only for the duration of the game as I had a tight schedule, squeezing in my first film of IndieLisboa before returning for the Liverpool vs Chelsea FA cup game later that day. I’d finally said my goodbyes to Nils, as he was off to Sintra with his newly acquired funds. It was a bit of an action packed day and after nipping home to get changed I was off to Dave’s bbq, maybe a few Caipirinhas were what I needed. Time flew by, as drinks and food flew down, and before I knew it, it was time to be heading back to Bairro Alto to meet the gang, for the ambitious final leg of four days of celebrating, a trip to Lux til the early hours. (It’s mind over matter – I’m not really tired!), by Lux time, I was struggling a bit, but soldiered on. The plan was almost derailed as the woman on the door, decided to request a ridiculous €180 per person for entry (this was the first time I’d experienced Lux’s policy of retaining the right to charge what they want – basically to control who they want to come in – very frustrating as we don’t look very Portuguese and they don’t seem to be having any problems) Fortunately, Tomas had a quiet word, as one of the Dj’s is a friend of his who we met in Zambujeira. So the €180 euros suddenly reverted to the usual €12 minimum consumption and we were in. It was good from what I remember, but I think I’d bitten off more than I could chew, and by 6am I was slipping between being awake and a half dream state thing, bizarre I know, you should have been me, so it was time to throw in the towel.

The following week was a heavy schedule of films and teaching punctuated by another bank holiday on the Tuesday for Portugal’s day of liberation, which clearly called for another session around the usual haunts with Tomas and Juan. The week culminated in a showing of Matthew Barney’s new film ‘Drawing Restraint 9’ starring himself and the missus, Bjork, on the Friday night. A captivating but bewildering affair which was only completely unravelled when we saw the documentary about the film the following day. (Still need to see his Cremaster cycle films which are based on the same central theme). On Saturday my favourite Nowegian songsters were in town, so it was off to Aula Magna to see the Kings of Convenience, a rather civilised theatre hall type sitting affair with around 1,500 quickly filling the best of the unallocated seats. Had I realised, I’d have turned up earlier, but had to settle for a seat a bit further back. It’s hard to explain to someone who hasn’t heard of them what makes the Kings of Convenience so good, there’s no gimmicks it’s just a perfect marriage of wondrous acoustic melodies and heartwarming (and sometimes quirky) lyrics sung by the one and only Erlend Øye. This guy could rival Napolean Dynamite in the geek stakes, and even has a dance to rival the Shippster, but despite this retains an air of being pretty damn cool (The epitomy of Geek-Chic). He gave the night a special intimate feel, which wasn’t easy given the size of the place, even helpfully informing some late comers, where we were and what songs they’d missed just to set the scene, without a hint or sarcasm and somehow still exuding warmth. After a few more songs and a bit of audience participation (joining in when prompted on some choruses), he said he was feeling lonely on the stage and urged people to come down and join him, and the braver ones made their way to the stage. As the stage started to fill, with nothing to lose, I made a run for it, running down the stairs like a star struck contestant on come on down, down the side and onto the stage where a circle of people were beginning to form around him. He started singing “I’d rather dance, than talk to you” a favourite of mine and the assembled group boogied along with him. I was all a little surreal, but an amazing moment. After the song he informed that the sound engineer had said it wasn’t such a good idea, so people began drifting off, until he said we didn’t have to leave but maybe it would better if we sat down, so sit down we did – now in a small cicle around them, like some Sunday school sing-a-long, where we stayed for the remainder of the gig, it capped off a wonderful evening. But naturally it wasn’t finished there, onto meet Jorge and and friends and a late attempt to go to the IndieLisboa closing party. After about 20 minutes of queuing, I decided to cut my losses and left them to go to Clube Mercado, where DZihan and Kamien were playing, it was a good decision, and shortly after I arrived, Maria and her housemates turned up – it was a great way to finish the night. On Sunday it was up and off to Guincho, for a day by the beach, bbq and camping with Tim, Yuko, Dave, Bob, Ale and the rest of the gang, almost all infact – think we were 18 strong at one point. The bbq was a bit of a nightmare as the charcoal we thought we had turned out to be fire-starting logs, that burned intensely and then died dramatically, you had to admire the perseverance and attempts to cook anything, and if it wasn’t for Tim’s gas stove, there could have been a lot of hungry people, but somehow we muddled through, eased by overflowing stocks of beer and wine. By midday on the Monday (another holiday – I hope you’re keeping count), the dazed and confused made their way from their tents for another day at the beach, beers and burgers (more meat?)in Bar do Guincho before heading back to Lisbon in the early evening, determined to do it all again sometime soon.