(no subject)
Another update, cos I'm bored and still a bit hungover, and nothing is open on a sunday evening. Again, no rhyme or reason in this- more of a stream of consciousness style thingy.
Hungover- this one began when I went out on Friday night, with the chap who lives in the room next to mine. We went to Bairro Alto (downtown, nightclub district) to 3 fantastic, quiet kind of places. The nightlife here is so different- for a start, not only are you allowed to drink on the streets, you're kind of expected to. Most bars are about the size of your average living room, and totally packed, so general procedure is spend half an hour getting drinks, sit outside on the floor with everyone else, and when ya feel like it, wander off to the next place, taking yr drink with you. Tis cool, very cool, it just feels a bit odd. Oh, and normal time to go out is about midnight, which is about the time I'd start to think about going to bed. Still, much fun was had, and a bunch of roses was purchased for me, and long convoluted discussions about football, philosophy and dogs v cats were embarked upon.
Had the worst hangover the next morning- as in, full on, every time I turned my head I got a headrush so bad that I couldn't see for a while. Standing up and walking weren't pleasant experiences, but as I'd only had about 4 drinks I couldn't really complain too much.
Anyway, Brazillian girl went out on saturday night and invited me along, and it woulda been rude to refuse. Again much fun was had, but by 3 I was knackered and decided to come home. Met some wonderful, totally mad Poles at the taxi rank, one of whom very kindly gave me his trousers because I'd mentioned that I was cold. Er, I didn't wear them, but it's the thought that counts. After the rollercoaster taxi ride home, and the taxi driver asking if he could come up and have a drink with me, I slept for about 4 million hours, which is why I'm knackered today.
I am also debating going to the hospital. I dislocated my toe in Marchish, but when I went to the (stupid stand-in newly qualified) doctor she said ti wasn't dislocated, the strange lump on the side was a callus and the fact that I suddenly lost the ability to move half my foot is strange but nothing to worry about. And it wasn't, not until I came to the City of Cobbled Hills, where if ya can't splay yr feet to grip the cobbles, you might suffer. I'm gonna see if it keeps hurting after tomorrow...
...first day at uni tomorrow. For some reason I'm really nervous about it, much more than I was about coming to Lisbon. They've sent me no information at all, despite all my requests, but luckily I'm too used to Westminster to be surprised by crap universities.
Getting used to the place, I think. Used to the Metro (there're only 4 lines. It's so sweet), used to strange old men and africans ogling and grabbing my arm. I walked past the church today, where all the old men hang out, and one of them tried to talk to me. Another guy, whom I really don't recall ever speaking to, said "She's english, she doesn't understand portuguese". I was very impressed, but felt that I'd've undermined the point by agreeing, so I just looked confused and wandered off.
Loads people think I'm Brazillian. Most people here are Portuguese, African or Brazillian, and as I don't look Portuguese or African (tho I will if i keep tanning), or English, it's the rational conclusion to jump to. I was flattered till I found out that they really hate Brazillians. Last night some Wierd Guy asked one of the guys with us for a cigarette- Braz guy gave him one, and Wierd Guy went to light it and asked, conversationally, 'where are you from?'. Braz Guy said Sao Paulo, and Wierd Guy threw the cigarette on the floor, said he didn't accept cigarettes from Brazillians and wandered off. Braz guy was offended but not all that surprised...
Had a wonderful epiphany style moment a few days ago. Epiphany, but without the epiphany bit, if ya know what I mean. Was wandering round exploring, then realised I was totally lost, quite knackered and had a headache. Decided to keep walking till I found a Metro station or somewhere I knew, and was just starting to get tetchy when I turned a corner and found myself beside the lake. The lake (a gigantic one) curved around the land, so I was kind of surrounded on three sides by a huge expanse of clear blue water, reflected int eh sky so you couldn't automatically tell where one ended and the other began. To my right the 25 April Bridge, on of Lisbon's main landmarks, stretched out over the river, to the other half of Lisbon, which was far enough away to kind of look, in the eveniing, like a mirage on the water. You could make out hills and a few roads, and couldn't really help noticing the 90 foot high statue of Christ against the skyline. Groups of fishermen, professional and amateur, were packing up for the night, a little group of people lit a campfire and were clearly planning on sleeping there... it was so spinny, an oasis of tranquillity about 5 meters from a main road.
Loads more's happened, but I can't be bothered to write much more. I won't put y'all through a blow by blow account. A sexy policeman on a motorbike winked at me, I got massively ripped off by an English Language bookshop, I found a Lidl really nearby and I appear to be smoking 20 a day. Straights.
I've recommenced my Elliott Smith obsession, which must've began around February. Quite a long lasting one, even for me. I found another cockroach, I kissed a beautiful but conceited POrtuguese guy, , I ordered the James Herriott omnibus from Amazon.
Gonna go now, see if guy next door and Brazillian fancy helping me with my wine (one of the more expensive bottles at the supermarket, at around £3). Or, I could waste time on the internet, and listen to more Elliott Smith...