Week 21 of the Philosopher Selfie // Europa Week Two!
Mon. June 16 / Tour of Berlin
I’m usually torn about taking a tourist tour because on the one hand it makes you look like the blindest greenest of tourists but on the OTHER hand I love learning that stuff. A friend recommended that I take a tour with one of his old friends for my last full day in Berlin, and I grudgingly walked to the meeting spot (in front of a hostel, ugh) with a bunch of tourists (the worst sort of people to hang out with: I wouldn’t hang out with myself if I met me and we were both tourists). You know what? It was really, really great. Lesson of the day: let your friends help you make your experiences richer, especially when it makes you feel uncool.
Tues. June 17 / Getting to Lisbon/together!
Taxi – plane – coffee in Barcelona – plane – taxi – Portugal! Some wine mixed with the company of my new travelling companions and this day is acabado.
Wed. June 18 / Old world magic
A dimly lit interior flickering with candle light; a gray-haired guitar player literally an inch from my elbow; a serious eyed young boy with fast fingers picking on a 12-stringed Portuguese guitar; a small dark man in a white shirt with a powerful, breath-stopping voice full of longing. Fado on a dark night in Lisbon can truly be described in no other way than magical.
Thurs. June 19 / Sintra and squishing 5 people into a tiny car
Far too few houses have secret underground passageways, caves, hidden rotating doors in stone walls and sacrificial wells any more. (Quinta da Regaleira, Sintra, Portugal)
Fri. June 20 / The lady Dona Ana
I made a new friend today. Her name is Dona Ana. She is yellow and golden but has a gritty edge to her, the type that gets under your fingernails and between your toes. Her eyes change from brilliant blue to sea foam green. She has secrets if you are willing to scramble up cliff edges and onto rocks. I’m planning on spending a lot of time with her. (Dona Ana beach, Lagos, Portugal)
Sat. June 21 / The second day at the beach
There’s nothing like the second day at the beach. You are no longer as white as your obvious first day. You know all the good spots and put your towel down like a pro. You remember to bring water and salted cashew nuts. Yeah, I got this shit dialed.
Sun. June 22 / Sagreshhhhh
A new day, a new beach. Ahhh, life can be great (again, apologies to all of you not currently on a Portuguese beach). A beach, to be specific, in Sagres. Pronounced Sagresh, not Sagres. Then later on, if you were with me? You would pay 50 Euro cents to use the washroom and then sit precariously on the far southwestern tip of Europe before driving home after sunset, sitting in the backseat, your head tipping to the side like when you were a kid. (Cape St. Vincent, Sagres, Portugal)