Blog Archives 040612 to Start

Old pointless chatter instead of new pointless chatter.

 

040612 Salt Lake City, UT, USA
I wish to find my place, so that I can finally *stay* someplace and make a home of it. I can not pretend it will be without compromise, but I must find it nevertheless. Once I have a *home* I can be away from it with equanimity, but first I must have *roots* somewhere.

040611 Salt Lake City, UT, USA
A discussion of Davis housing prices (rent vs own) and an experience of the California rush hour really slaps the reality in one's face. A multi-room place will be out of my price range unless I commute or spend the lion's share of my income upon it. If I commute, the commuting itself will be a time drain, a *very* large one if I hit the rush times. Sigh. I must think on a solution to this.

040429 Airplane, Atlantic
Overall, I've really enjoyed Portugal. Its big cities are surprisingly clean and it was easy to negotiate. While it lacks the raw density of art or history that Italy contains, and it is clearly a poorer, slightly less developed nation, it still has enough at a low enough price, that it is a very pleasing destination.
The plane's take-off was delayed an hour to receive 80 people from a cruise ship that was late to port. As the plane filled with garrulous gaggles of smug, self-satisfied elderly, I was reminded of why I *never* want to do a cruise. Ugh. Old people wandering about the isles, ignoring requests to sit and delaying food service, all to say to each other "Hi! Yeah, we're on the same plane, can you believe it? Wasn't that a great cruise? Oh, hi!" Vapid pack of parasites.
Anyway, what is different new? What have I learned? As usual, I have made a lot of resolutions. The only thing different this time around is that I have a plan for acomplishing them. Segmenting my life and time is a start. I *think* I understand better what I want in life. Some research will be necessary to see if the obscure small college is a way of getting there.

040428 Lisbon, Portugal
I could not translate a menu item and so just ordered it after a waiter assured me it was his favorite. I ended up with a big plate of liver and onions... So far, ordering food blindly in Portugal is a far worse idea than ordering blindly in China! Yikes.

040426 Porto, Portugal
Watching Catholics in Europe bow down before the statues of saints, sometimes touching their feet or praying directly to them, I wonder how this is not idol-worship. Watching them enter the church, many of them make a bee-line for a particular saint's statue, skipping the main altar, although some pause for a perfunctory dip in acknowledgement towards the head of the chapel. There are coin-boxes so you can donate to a particular saint rather than the church as a whole, and you can buy or take scraps of paper or icons or such devoted to the saint of your choice. I see little difference between this and the religious buddhists praying to particular buddhas, save that there are fewer major buddhas, making them in some sense *less* polytheistic.
Side note: The guide-book did not like the Porto Se for exactly the reasons I prefer it; simple clean stone lines without an excess of gilding. The 3 story high ceiling and open space, makes this a cool respite from the 30 C temperatures outside.

040425 Porto, Portugal
Traveled to Porto. It appears to be a Portuguese New York. Walking from the train station was a minor error; this really is a big city that rolls up and down hilly terrain, with no orthoganal streets. My Portuguese has improved and I could make myself understood with each stop for directions.

040424 Coimbra, Portugal
Portuguese city maps mess me up; I walk what I consider a short distance and I find I've crossed half the city and far overshot my destination. Portugal is not just small in physical size, but also in mental size. Entire city blocks, ranging from upscale clothing stores to groceries to hairdressers to run down tenements and garages are packed into the area of a few hundred yards. I just got done talking to a university student who had "gone away to university". He was on the bus going towards Conimbraga. He went home every weekend, a trip of ~ 10 km. He considered it a big distance and I considered it a pleasant jaunt. His plans consisted of doing math and theoretical physics, so he could have an OK paying job without having to move too far from his family.
The town are small, but in the off-season, the tourists are blessedly few. This means that the same set of tourists I saw at Conimbraga (mostly showing up in separate couples, arriving as I was leaving) I ended up greeting in Coimbra chapels or restaruaunts.
At a restauraunt, a table of six walked in and sat down. The entire family group, the moment their butts hit their seats, popped out cigarettes and lit up, creating a restaruaunt-filling cloud. The US has gotten some things right, in the restrictions on smoking in public places.

040423 Sintra, Lisbon, Coimbra, Portugal
Caught the 8:20 AM train out of Sintra and was in Lisbon by 9 AM. Had a coffee and a salty steak sandwich, then walked across town to the other train station. The dock areas and the SE edge of Lisbon are run down and disreputable. Still, the walk was worth it; I saw a wonderful old building that was like the "before" version of all the restored buildings, abandoned and decaying. I visited an old, still active church in the middle of construction/renovation. A broken alter-piece told the truth; the marble is only 1 cm thick, old pieces of wood are the flesh over which the marble skin is placed. I caught the 10:10 AM train to Coimbra. I think it's the slow regional train.
One hour to get half the way to Coimbra, then two more painfully slow hours to finish the journey... *This* was the express!
My writing on the airplane was pretty legible. My writing on the train is far worse.

040422 Sintra, Portugal
Sintra was quaint and peaceful. The scenery from the top of the Moorish Castle was phenominal. But, the Pena Palace and it's grounds were disturbing. It spoke of abandoned dreams, broken and ferral. My sleep was cold and unrestful, filled with unquiet ghosts seeking to harm the living. I left on the 8 AM train.

040421 Lisbon, Portugal
Portuguese, with all it's scattered "sh" sounds, ends up sounding vaguely Eastern European.
Day 2 in Portugal and I have thus far used no English, except for the conversation with the English bum. It's funny; only two days of no conversation and already my ears are tuned to pick out english or german, with the urge to say "hi" to those who speak a tounge I can understand.
A surprisingly high percentage (of the relatively low number) of bums here are english. All, so far, are claiming to be trying to raise the money to go home.
I must cease having wine with meals. Portuguese wine is sneaky; being far stronger than it tastes. Even the smallest of bottles that comes with a meal (~375 mLs) has me staggered. I still have ~180 mLs left and I've ordered coffee for the excuse to sit some more; I feel as if the previous 1/2 bottle (~195 mLs) would have me weaving slightly despite the large lunch... From now on, I'll be requesting soda unless I wish to be drunk. I remember the Italian wines as being somewhat less strong. I'll not be able to think well if I continue to consume like a local. Due to the wine, lunch was a relaxing 2 hour affair, much like dinner was last night and for the same reason.
Due to random pointing in the "carne" section of the menu (my dictionary could translate almost none of the dish names), I ended up with blood sausages... Exactly what the guide books had warned of. No wonder my waiter had looked so pleased, praising my choice as "traditional Portuguese" and "very typical". Half a bottle of wine was enough to lower my inhibitions enough to eat it. It was not at all bad, if you ignored the texture and thought of it as meat-basted flavoring paste for the vast amount of cabbage that came with it. While I can see why the guide book warned against being "tricked into eating the dreadful blood sausage" (direct quote from the book), the right attitude, powerful wine, and plenty of cabbage made it a nice lunch.
I went to a fado place. It was near the end of a set by a young woman. When she finished, a man came on. As I was wondering if the woman (powerful, emotive voice) had a recording contract, she served me my meatballs. It turns out she was one of the two cooks. The entire staff took turns at the fado singing. Most were distressingly mediocre. I waited an hour while she cooked or cleaned tables until her turn came again. She sang new songs, again superbly. Huh.

040420 Lisbon, Portugal
8 AM. Arrived. Got my bag and boarded a bus to the city center.
9 AM. Chatting with a brit. He has been here 2 years. He came looking for "warmer people. I'm british and we're a cold people. But there's something I just don't get about the Portuguese." He makes enough to pay for his hotel (~10 euros) and some food by panhandling. He says he's going home in three days.
12 PM. Still lugging my pack, I made the climb up to the Castello de St. George. Toured the castle and then hiked down to the city center and then up the other ridge to the pensao I'd picked out. The room is 16 euros a night. Perfect.
7 PM. After dozing and writing for a little, I went to the Instituto Dos Vinhos Do Douro E Porto - the Port Wine Institute. Drank a series of glasses of Port, at only 1 euro each. Tawny, white, and ruby. It should be noted that Port is 80% wine and 20 % brandy. This is quite pleasant, but I probably ought to have eaten first. Eh, my head is spinning, but I can still transcribe the notes I have on scraps of paper.
9 PM. I now sit in a gourmet restauraunt well off the beaten track. I have wandered over a fair chunk of Lisbon now, having gotten really moving after most churches and museaums were closed. I'd been interested in going to a fado house, but I'm unsure if I'll make it until midnight, when the acts really start.
11 PM. Too much wine at dinner and the fact that I've had maybe 4 hours in naps in the last ~25 hours means that it is bed time. I'll just listen to my fado on CD.

990914 Florence, Italy
I have been touring world-class museums for two days... All I can think now is "Oh, look. Another frigging "Madonna and Child" picture... Was there some sort of law on the books stating that the only art allowed for a few centuries was the bloody Madonna and Child?!?" I think I'm done with Italian museums for a while.

990913 Florence, Italy
Boboli Gardens (tucked on the hill behind Pitti Palace) is one of the most romantic places I have ever been in my life. The magic was obviously working on my girlfriend, because that is where she chose to dump me and start chatting up Italian guys. Thanks, babe.

951219 Durham, NC, USA
The end of my first car, my Grandfather's 1970 Plymouth Valiant: The Engine self-destructed while being tested after the timing chain broke (while driving J. to the Greensboro airport). Today, I drove a friend's car to Greensboro and cleaned out the trunk and glove compartment. Arranged for car to be scrapped. Handed over the title. Left the plates on the car. End.

Page Last Modified: 2008 04 20, 16:15:31

 

 

Blog archives

• 071211 to 071123 
• 071111 to 071005 
• 070929 to 070802 
• 070728 to 070603 
• 070520 to 070323 
• 070320 to 070228 
• 070218 to 070122 
• 070121 to 061219 
• 061217 to 061119 
• 061114 to 061020 
• 061017 to 060917 
• 060916 to 060817 
• 060816 to 060717 
• 060716 to 060617 
• 060610 to 060518 
• 060515 to 060418 
• 060417 to 060218 
• 060218 to 051228 
• 051222 to 051124 
• 051114 to 051017 
• 051016 to 050918 
• 050914 to 050819 
• 050815 to 050717 
• 050717 to 050612 
• 050612 to 050509 
• 050509 to 050414 
• 050414 to 050313 
• 050313 to 041231 
• 041231 to 040612 
• 040612 to Start