Lisboa-Day 2 - the train to Caiscis.

Cash-Kish

You want to believe.

The good times. From Dean Martin to Chic, singers have sung about the good times. Some days it is hard to imagine the concept of good times living in a world hell bent on its own destruction, but there are good times if you want it.

Yesterday, in a town square in Lisboa, we were having cocktails. I was enjoying my new fave cocktail, Port and tonic, and Michelle had a nice dry sparkling wine.

A man in a red shirt passed by and offered us in that oh so quiet voice that drug dealers in parks have all over the world, “Cocaine?”

Nope. No interest. Street drugs? Are you on drugs? Listen, we are over 60, I have a cardio condition. I mean what could go wrong?

Nope.

We went to Caiscis today by train.

The Good Time’s Are Coming. That is what the hat says. Speak to the hat.

We had breakfast today at “breakfast dear”. Then we took the train to Caiscis.

Bewitched by the tile work on the roads.

I see a rooster.

We go to a gallery.

The art is by Paula Rego.

In 1994 Rego was inspired by a Portuguese fairy tale, written for the artist by a Portuguese friend who had, in turn, been told it by her maid. An old lady, living alone with her pets, hears the wind in the chimney assume the voice of a child which encourages her to eat her pets one by one. Rego asked her model Lila to 'crouch down and be a woman with her mouth open as she's about to swallow something'. This was the first major work that Rego did with pastel on paper. It was also the origin of one of her greatest series of paintings in which she celebrates feminine energy, versatility, adaptability and visceral power. The dog women do all the specifically canine things, Grooming, Waiting for Food, Baying. In one Lila even becomes, half-naked and only partially submissive, a Bad Dog. After the pastels were completed, Rego thought that she would turn them into a series of etchings, but, 'It didn't work out at all. I would have done it already and that was it.'

We found a great tapas place. We ordered garlic prawns, with the heads on. Just bite off the tails and suck the heads. Really. Roasted chorizo, which was two sausages laid out on an oblong serving dish. The waiter hands me some tongs, and says to move them around a bit. Then takes out a lighter and sets them on fire. We are stuffed into two high chairs looking out at the street behind jail bars, and on the chair behind us, as there was no room on the counter in front of us, a dish with chorizo and flames going up about a foot in the air.

It was quite the spectacle and the result was delicious. Bread, olives, Burrata on rocket with tomatoes and balsamic drizzle.

My cocktail for Thai part was a Bica sour, made with Portuguese almond liqueur, lemon, egg white etc, and Michelle had a strawberry caipirinha (kai-purr-REEN-yah). The music was old time soul, Curtis Mayfield, Staple Singers, Bill Withers- I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know.

I capped off the meal with an old fashioned for 7 Euros. The glasses were big and full of booze. If that is Old Fashioned, make me a bed of bourbon to rest my heavy head.

After dinner, we went back to the apartment, and like the evening before heard lots of ritual yelling and glass breaking. We thought we should investigate, so out to the street, we followed the sound. In a square about a block away we found the cause. It was full of students in black uniforms and capes, and large umbrellas that said Lisbon Pub Crawl. A graduation celebration.

JK Rowling stayed in Portugal when writing Harry Potters and you can see it. The capes, the uniforms, the winding streets and little shops that appear out of nowhere. Portugal is Hogwarts!

Here is a poem I wrote today:

Babble dazzle

Words.

Each with their own meanings.

Known by the speaker,

Sometimes understood (when heard)

By the receiving party.

It’s a wonder

Anything is understood

when you add in the factor

Of hearing loss.

WHAT?

An indistinguishable

Wall of Words.

Babble dazzle.

And word by word

I am cut off

As lonely words rattle inside my head

Like an island

Surrounded by

Babble dazzle.