Boa Pascoa!

Or Happy Easter!

Our friends to the East (the Spanish) get about a month off an have invaded Lisbon in their thousands. The 'sh' sounds and nasal dipthongs (think the ow sound in clown) so prevalent in Portuguese have been replaced by 'th' and rolled r's of your average Spaniard. Six months ago I wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between a Portuguese person and a Spaniard but now I can spot them a mile off. I'm not sure if this is because there is an inate difference between the people or if it is just that you can always spot a tourist, no matter how hard they try to fit in.

Since I got here, lots of other non-Portuguese people have warned me about the Portuguese being very reserved, quiet and less emotional than their cousins across the border. This was proven to me at the weekend when I went to my local bar to watch the football. Instead of half a dozen Portuguese blokes sat round three cups of espresso, there were people actually enjoying themselves! Don't get me wrong, I am not criticising the Portuguese - quite the opposite: I have a hatred for people who feel that they have to show their heart on their sleeve. Nothing worse than people letting the rest of the world know exactly how much they are enjoying themselves. Unless you have just beat Arsenal 4-1, got really smashed and then found that you have no money on your debit card and have convinced the local barkeep to let you have a tab until next week. Then you can celebrate.

In celebration of such fine performances against Arsenal and PSV, or maybe because of Easter, I had five days off work with which to do whatever I pleased. So, I drank a lot, ate a lot, was a bit ill and went to a beautiful town called Evora. There is not a great deal to say about the place. It probably wasn't the best time of year to go as it was full of tourists, but it was still a really nice place full of interesting buildings, museums, churches and stuff. We only spent two days there but I would really like to visit at a less busy time of year. The picture you can see of me was taken in the Chapel of Bones. As the name suggests, the whole room is made of human bones and is finished off with two full skeletons (over my right shoulder) of a young mother and her baby. Creepy and disturbing.

Damn Belgians

You know when you have made the same journey every day for several months that it becomes almost reflex? Even busy crossroads' can be overcome whilst listening to your ipod without looking at the traffic AND avoiding the charity muggers attempting to accost the pedestrians. Easy to understand, then, my surprise during the week as my usual walk to work was interupted in a most unusual fashion. I should further explain that I have a Japanese ipod that doesn't have one of those pesky-nanny-state EU noise reduction devices attached. Which means that it is loud! So, I'm absent-mindedly trundling aong when I look up and there is Christiano Ronaldo, juggling a football about six feet away from me. Out of nowhere, a little gay Portuguse man grabbed my arm and told me to get out of the way. Apparently, I had walked right over the shin-high tape that told me that I was entering the filming of Ronaldo's new advert. Brilliantly, the little gay guy didn't realise that I wasn't meant to be there and I stood for the next ten minutes or so watching them film. For a brief but wonderful moment, I had a vision of myself running full pelt at the greasy bastard and challenging him knee-high, ending his career outside the Sofitel Hotel with cameras rolling to capture every excruciating contortion on his slimy face.

Anyway, when somebody offered me tickets to go and see the Portugal v Belgium match, the image came back to me as I hoped that some Belgian hero (if that is not an oxymoron) would prove to be more of a man than I and smash his face in. Unfortunately, he tormented the Belgian defence and scored two goals. Git. Good game, though, even if I had to watch it sitting on the stairs. The police told us that somehow too many tickets had been sold and therefore there weren't enough seats for everyone. We didn't push too hard to get our seats, as the tickets came from pretty dubious sources. In Britain, the match would have been abandoned. Here, we were asked to sit on the steps and watch the match from the best seats in the house. The Alvalade (Sporting Lisbon's stadium) is big and brash but badly organised. Like Lawrence Llewelyn-Bowen came and MDF'd his way around the place. I didn't take my camera because I still have reservations about getting my pocket-picked, even though the only crime I have witnessed in Lisbon since I got here is people jumping on the tram for free. The pictures I have attached are actually from the Estade de Luz, Benfica's ground. I went there to see the Celtic match there, but decided to pay it another visit to take a few pics. Like the Alvalade, it was built for the 2004 European Championships and, while they look shiny and modern, both grounds lack the atmosphere that I'm sure the grounds that they replaced would have held by the bucket-load. They both have the ubiquitous running track around the pitch, keeping fans at least thirty-feet away from the action. Sporting's ground even has a dry-moat around the pitch to seperate the fans from their idols. They do, however, have a real community feeling. They are not just a football stadium, as they contain bowling alleys, cinemas, gyms and just about everything else that you can imagine. Far from feeling like the clubs have provided these services in order to bleed the last few cents from your pockets, it seems that they were trying to make the stadiums part of the local infrastructure and social scene. It's a model that some of the Premiership teams could look at. This is especially prescient as Liverpool are looking at leaving Anfield - God I hope that they get it right!! If they name the stadium the McDon-o-drome I will burn my kit and hang up my boots; I will make myself unavailable for selection in all but European finals.

I have now made it my mission to try to get to all of the top division teams grounds in Portugal during my time here. I'll keep you posted on my progress.

Shake, Rattle and Roll

First things first. My mate Iain, who was a teacher in the same school as myself in Japan, is coming to see me in a couple of weeks. He is just about to leave Japan, having been there for two years and after netting himself a cracking ex-student to bring home with him (insert your own punching-above-weight/ out-of-league gag here!). So you can understand that I was concerned when I heard that there had been an earthquake in central Japan earlier today. He has been in contact to say that he is okay, but it made me think about how people manage to live with the risk of natural disaster hanging over them daily. I remember the attitude of the Japanese when I was there. When asked if they were worried about the threat of earthquakes, (or tsunamis, or volcanoes, or Mothra) they always had the same reply; YES! But what can you do?!
You might imagine that people would get used to them when they happen so regularly, but there is a realistic possibility of a huge quake levelling Tokyo - how could you ever gear your mind to cope with a possibility like that?
Luckily, it has been over two hundred and fifty years since an earthquake and it's resulting tsunami submerged Lisbon. What do you mean: another one is due!?!?

A picture says a thousand words, unless your blind.

To be honest,

there is no real reason
to post these pictures

but to show how the better half live!

Should I call it a 'mini-snickers' now?

For people who know me, this will surprise you!

On Sunday, there was a mini-marathon in Lisbon. I dragged myself out of bed and around the 7km course. I trained for a couple of weeks in preparation. I even stayed off the beer for three whole days before the race! I've been going to the gym a fair bit since I got here, but I normally don't do much running so I was a little worried. I knew I could get round 7km, but I didn't want to embarass myself in front of the rest of the gym, as we were all running together. In the end, I finished second out of the dozen or so people from the gym who took part so I was pretty proud of myself.

The main draw of the run was that they close the bridge across the river Tejo for the morning and it's the only day of the year when pedestrians are allowed on the bridge. We got the best views of the city and the huge statue of Christ that faces Lisbon from the other side of the river.

I have promised myself that I will try the 22km half-marathon next year, and after that - who knows...!

Sun in March? This is New!

I phoned my mum yesterdat and she held the phone out of the front door so that I could hear the hail-stones hitting the street outside. As I was talking to her, I was wearing shors and flip-flops on the beach at Cascais. Briliant!

Only when your friends and family are suffering with crappy weather can you truly enjoy the sunshine. Fact.

Over the last couple of weeks, spring has sprung. It has suddenly become much easier to get out of bed in the morning and everything is just better when it's sunny. Just reading a newspaper or having a beer become grand events when accompanied by the warming rays.

Last week, I went to see Portugal v Uruguay in a rugby world cup play-off. It was a really great day out, improved by the fact that rugby is a small but growing sport here so most of the people at the game were not taking it too seriously. At half-time and at the end of the game, people were actively encouraged to take to the field to talk to the players and throw the ball around. One excellent bit of red-tape before the game: our bags were searched as we were entering the ground and anything that could be regarded as a 'missile' had to be removed. Our 'missiles' included a pen, a bottle top and a boiled sweet. Somebody had two cans of deodorant, one with a cap and one without. The one with the cap had it's cap removed but was allowed into the ground. The one without the cap (and therefore nothing that could be removed) was not allowed to enter. I didn't understand either. The situation was made even more laughable when you got inside and found that items for sale included bottles and cans of all varieties that would have made considerably better weapons than a Werther's Original. Especially when you consider that the people that you would be aiming the offending articles at weigh 18 stone and could break your spine with an angry glare. Apparently, rugby players can handle crashing tackles and ten-man punchups, yet crumble under the force of a bottle top.

Anyway, Portugal got a surprise victory and the family next to us taking their young son to his first sporting event left happy, so it was a good day.

On a different note, thanks go to Darius for his advice about my tattoo proposal. His comments will be taken on board, but I don't know how much weight to attach to the suggestions of a man who happily let an old Japanese bloke cup his balls in the middle of the street. You know what I'm talking about, Fagan.

It was Carnival time in Portugal last week. This basically meant that everybody looked forward to a couple of extra days off. Except the lawyers who only take time off work to come to English classes and the students who get about three weeks off.

A few random blokes decided to wear 'costumes' around the city. These ranged from decent, fairly professional efforts to ridiculous drag outfits obviously put together from the wifes cast-offs. This did provide us with a few moments of fun as we thought about what it would actually be like to be a real transvestite at Carnival. Would everyone be congratulating you on your outfit? Asking you where you found the gear? You could spend the whole year thinking that nobody knows your secret; that you have fooled the world into thinking that you are really a women, only to find that you hadn't been tricking anyone. The conversation surreally concluded with us deciding that trannies probably dress like men for Carnival, thus leading us to eye every non-costumed man that entered the bar with suspicion.

Anyway, to celebrate, we decided that a mini-break was in order. We visited a beautiful walled town north of Lisbon called Obidos. If nothing else, it gave me more reasons to be glad not to be in England. The bus to and from the town was cheap, clean comfortable and regular. Obidos itself, despite being a big tourist attraction, was neither overly expensive or excessively tacky. The place was described to me eloquently beforehand by students. Their descriptions included "charming", "delightful" and "nice". I couldn't agree more. They also have a local Licquor called Ginja that is made with cherries. Although it wasn't really my cup of meat, it did come in a chocolate cup that you can eat afterwards. Which saves on the washing up.

On the way back to Lisbon, we visited another coastal town called Peniche. Surrounded on three sides by beaches, it may have been more wise to visit this place a little later on in the year because it was freezing! Even so, it was worth a visit, even though the hotel that we stayed in bore more than a passing resemblance to Alan Partridge's Travel Lodge. It also boasted the most incompetent waitress I have ever encountered. Words could not describe her ineptitude. It pains me even to think about her. Good times.

Tat's all folks

Tattoos.

A poignantly permanent reminder of an important time in your life or an easily recognisable branding of the classless? Discuss.

I have been thinking about getting a tattoo for a while and I would appreciate your advice. The picture I have attached is of a commemorative coin, issued for the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. It is the design that I have chosen to be emblazoned across my shoulder. Maybe.

I chose it after a reasonably thorough period of research. I wanted to get Mt. Fuji because I climbed it on a whim one September and it represents everything that I love about travelling and doing things that everybody dreams about but never gets round to actually doing.

I like the way that the cherry blossom surrounds Fuji-san. When I arrived in Japan in March 2005, Sakura season had just started. While I recognised that the blossoms were beautiful, I didn't understand why they were so important to the Japanese people. Over the next year, I began to appreciate the culture and tradition and it bothered me that I had been so cynical the previous year. When it came time for me to leave Japan the following March, I was a little sad that I would miss the cherry blossoms - due to start opening the week after I left - and it meant a lot to me that this deeply Japanese tradition had become even a small part of my life.

I think this design would make a really fitting tribute to an important year in my life. Or not.

Answers on an e-card.

Better Than Expected

The family have been and gone and life has returned to normal for the time being. It turns out that I was unnecessarily concerned about the visit. We all actually had a really good time. The weather was good and we found the perfect mix to keep everybody happy. This mostly involved walking very slowly between restaurants to accomodate my mum and nan, followed by a couple of beers in the local which filled my teenage brother with unbridled joy. Or at least he slipped out of his hormonal coma for a couple of hours over a lemon-flavoured beer or three. Favourite moment of the week was meeting the clan in a trendy cafe where they told me that it was 'only' seven euros for one beer and two coffees. I laughed and then took them to my Bulgarian mates bar, where we ate steak sandwiches and dessert and drank local speciality cocktails and at the end of the night the bill was just under twelve euros. He gives me staff discount. And the remote control for the TV. Who could ask for more?

It's notable that, wherever I seem to go, the friendliest and most helpful people (read: bar owners) are also foreigners. It's something about people when they settle for a long time in foreign countries. You need to have a very laid-back temperament to accept a new culture in a country that very often doesn't want you.

The attached pics were taken in Belem, where you can get the best cakes in Lisbon - trust me, it's worth the forty minute bus journey! - and the Elevador that takes tourists up and down my street. We literally live on the road you can see in the picture and the little yellow bus ferries its' load past the front door all day long. The novelty of seeing people from all over the world that have come to take pictures right outside my house still hasn't worn off. Sometimes I imagine that they have come to see me. Other times I am sure of it.

Family Fortunes XXX

So the family are coming to visit on Tuesday. Can't wait. My dad, bless him, isn't coming because he doesn't like to use any form of transport other than his car. He likes being in control, I guess. Anyway, that just leaves my mum, brother and nan. My brother is staying on the couch in my living room, while the other two are staying in a hotel at the top of the street. I'm looking forward to seeingthem, obviously, but I'm a bit worried about acting like a tour guide for three generations of my family. What possible activities can you do that a miserably-hormonal 14 year old and a feisty septegenarian will enjoy? Factor in a well-meaning but over-bearing mother and you have a recipe for a National Lampoon-esque week of humourless boredom. Wish me luck, please.
Who knows, we might all have a great time. The family get on really well with my girlfriend so hopefully I'll be able to offload - I mean share - the responsibility. The plans so far involve the zoo and the oceanarium for some wholesome family fun, the beach for a spot of sightseeing and picture opportunities and several good restaurants which, to be honest, are more for my benefit.
The good news is that my mum is bringing me a PSP! Due to some undoubtedly dubious dealings, my mum has found herself holding ten brand new PSP games that fell off the back of a metaphorical lorry. Thus, she has decided that it is worth paying for a PSP console for me. Wahoo!

Pre-Carnival Ramblings of the Randomest Variety

So it's almost Canival time here. To celebrate the beginning of Lent, a huge party is thrown and people dress up and get drunk. It beats Pancake Day. My students' have been telling me that Carnival is not such a big deal in Lisbon because everybody is too busy, nobody is religious and a whole load of other trite generalisations. To celebrate the festivities, I get an extra-long four day weekend next week and I'm hoping to get away somewhere and see some of Portugal. I'm ashamed to say that in almost five months I have barely strayed outside the capital. If anyone has any suggestions, please let me know. Anybody who has ever taught English to foreigners will tell you that students can be a well of local knowledge that you can dredge regularly. As you will also know, they will all give you the same answers. When I asked them where I should go fo Carnival, they all said the same places and gave the same reason - because all of the tourists go there for Carnival! When I explain that I am not really a tourist and would quite like to go somewhere that doesn't contain fat, bald men shouting at underpaid waiters, the students just laugh.

Work has been weird recently because we are really under-staffed at the moment. Last week I taught three classes of the same level on the sameday. Obviously, I taught the same lesson three times- laughing at the same jokes and asking the same questions, knowing that I would receive the same answers. It would fry your brain doing it all of the time, but it was fun to switch off for the day and auto-teach. It's also exam time at the school which means that I can take my Nintendo to class legitimately to give me something to do. Just between us, I was given some great advice about making the test a little light. This means that the ninety minute test is completed by even the most dim-witted student in about an hour. At the end of the test, students are free to sit in silence for the rest of the lesson, or they can leave early. Thus, teacher is able to make an early dart home to watch most of the Portugal v Spain match!! Even better, you don't even have to mark the tests. You can go through them in class "so the students can see how they made their mistakes." Brilliant! I even heard of one teacher getting higher level students to mark lower level papers as an error-correction exercise!!

Going to get back to my book now. I'm reading Perfume, which is ace. Just grisly and gothic enough without becoming plain-old-nasty. It describes eighteenth century France exactly how I would have imagined it. I hqven't seen the film of the same name, but I might give it a whirl when I have finished the book.
Adeus.

Merry War (Christmas is Over)

To everyone that I didn't get a chance to speak to or mail individually, I hope you had a great Christmas and New Year. If you're interested, mine was quiet on the whole and saw only a smattering of drunkenness mixed with a soupcon of overindulgence. As planned, we travelled back to England on Boxing Day. Christmas day was spent in Lisbon, which was weird because the whole city was deserted and there wasn't that Christmassy feel that you get at home. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it might have had something to do with the fact that the average Portuguese worker only gets two days holiday for Christmas and is back in work on Boxing Day. I haven't quite worked out why, but Christmas is not such a commercial experience here. I suspect, with very little evidence, that it is because the people are more religious than I am used to, so they take it more seriously. Having said that, I have never known a city to spend so much money on decorations. Every street was lit up and the biggest (fake) Christmas tree in Europe was erected down by the port. The government are obviously trying to prove some sort of point about being able to compete with he rest of Europe. My favourite classroom quote of the season; when asked about the illuminations, one of my more enlightened students said that at least they gave the homeless people something to look at over Christmas. Bah, humbug!
I used to love Christmas when I was a kid, then, like everyone else, I realised the cheapness and forced-happiness of it all. BUT I'm very happy to say that, as most of my extended family now are all growed up, I have started to enjoy Christmas again. We have even started to develop some new 'traditions';
The Afternoon Pint With My Dad- not a new event, but one that is extended and repeated in the name of festivity.
The Christmas Dinner Repeat- as we enjoyed it so much the first time, my poor mother now prepares Christmas dinner at least two or three times over the festive period.
Al's Christmas Cake- My Scottish uncle makes a fruit cake a month before Christmas and adds a glass of brandy every night to make it the softest, plumpest and most inebriating slice of heaven.
Plus, I am now officially old enough to admit that New Years Eve is the worst night of the year to go out drinking and that it is much more sensible to stay in and get drunk inyour pyjamas. I tried it a couple of years ago and felt depressed but not this year. This year it was marvellous.