Stare, Laugh, or Cringe?

This blog-post is devoted to those moments when I can’t look away. I’m mesmerized… not always in a good way. It started when a teenage girl was coming toward us on a Lisbon sidewalk. Her outfit was so bizarre I couldn’t help but try and figure out what she was actually wearing. The two stiff pony-tails sticking up on each side of her head was the first attention-getter. Then the tiny crop-top, baggy swirly/stripey/polka-dotty pants stuffed into the biggest furry mid-calf boots I’ve ever seen (except at a Halloween party, maybe). I stared. The elderly lady walking in front of me stared. After the girl pranced by, the elderly lady turned to watch. When the lady made eye contact with us, we all started laughing.

The playground across from our balcony is a constant whirlwind of activity. It’s the most crowded towards the end of the day because it’s in the shade. The end of the day is also when the beach-going toddlers are ripe for a good tantrum. The other day an exceptionally loud screamer drew me to look down to see if she was being tortured. It turns out that her mother was the one being tortured. This little three year was standing about five feet from her mother screaming that attention-getting type of scream while the mother sat on a step and waited. It was a good ten minutes of a battle of the wills. I was amazed her tenacity. I don’t know who won.

The same playground has a metal construction fence on one side. This is like a noise-magnet to the boys. They kick the soccer ball against it as hard as they can. It makes me cringe every time! I can’t seem to acclimate to it.

People eat a lot of seafood here in Portugal. The one I can’t understand is the big bowl of tiny little snails called Caracois. They use what looks like a toothpick to wrestle the meat out or they just suck them out. They crowd around the bistro table and devour them, often ordering a second bowl.

Speaking of outdoor eating… We were at a nice little sidewalk restaurant overlooking the beach last night. I got salmon and Joe got Piri-piri chicken. After they set the plates down, I pulled out my napkin and busied myself with placing it on my lap. All of a sudden there was chaos at our table. A giant seagull swooped down from the rooftop and snatched a piece of Joe’s chicken right off his plate! A battle ensued as the seagull defended his trophy from the other less skilled birds. The other guests at the tables were staring in shock. Then… wait for it… a lady threw the birds a piece of her chicken! What in the world?!?

The café I write at has a dog bowl full of water. The seagulls appreciate it.

They have a lot of those adorable little finch type birds here. So cute. Unfortunately, they are actually seagulls in cute-bird costumes. They prance around the tables and sit on the edge of your glass and when you try to swat them away they dodge your hand playfully. A table with two little children had a couple of these little menaces trying to get the kid’s food. The mom shooed them away, and the dad scolded her and said, “They need to eat too.” Huh? He changed his tune when the bird flew onto his daughter’s plate and scared her so bad she screamed. Then dad shooed them away.

It’s actually really unusual to hear music blaring from a home, car, or boombox. Music on the beach is illegal and enforced by the police and citizens. It’s so peaceful to relax to the sound of the waves instead of rap music blaring out the F-word every five seconds. Loud bars tend to all be on one street, but they’re not nearly as loud as Mexico bars. In Mexico, you need earplugs. But the exception seems to be election vans. They had a recent election here and the vans would cruise by as slowly as possible with music like Staying Alive and I’m So Excited blaring. Kind of odd to hear American disco music coming from an election van.

Things are not always what they seem. I have a weakness for dark chocolate. Joe has a weakness for anything with sugar in it. So, knowing that I succumb to dessert when we travel, we started casing out the pastry displays. One place had a little chocolate ball shaped truffle. It tasted like sugar died brown. We tried a package of chocolate, that wasn’t chocolate. But, my biggest disappointment was a big slice of chocolate cake. We bought it and brought it home. With much fanfare we each took a bite… it was bran-cake. You know, like a bran muffin. On our anniversary we finally scored at the Metropole. We ordered “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.” We felt we couldn’t go wrong with a name like that! We were right. It was so good.

The seaweed came in the other day with a little storm. It’s actually more like grass then California’s version. A couple of days later we went to the beach and picked the perfect spot that had a little breeze. The next half hour was spent with tumbleweeds bouncing back-and-forth across our bodies. That grass was everywhere.

My favorite story will be the hardest to tell because you just had to be there! I was writing at a café on the promenade when I heard a little boy shouting in a rhythmic kind-of way. He was about four-years-old and had a toy electric guitar across his chest. He was very dramatically strumming the guitar (silently) and singing like a mixture between Bruce Springsteen and Led Zepplin. His mother stood at a distance watching. This little dude strutted and danced back and forth for five minutes completely absorbed in his performance. He finally thrashed out the final notes and went down on his knees for a finale. The entire café broke into spontaneous applause. He froze, shocked, like he wasn’t even aware of us. Then he placed a hand solemnly on his chest and took a bow. Oh man… everyone was laughing.