26.05.2008
here comes the sun...
...again. Surprisingly it was so warm and sunny yesterday, it just pushed us outside! 
And finally it was sunday again, what means live jazz in the park. Was a lot of fun, dancing again, chilling, the usual stuff. A very relaxing afternoon... well, after the DJ finished we got on our way back home but had to wait at he bus stop for some minutes. Suddenly something hit me, felt like an electric shock. First I thought it was imagination, but then it hit me another time. I moved a little and suddenly it was Vicy shouting... Something hit her. We wondered where it came from cause one by one we were all hurt. We spotted that boy on the other side on the road, but he was with his mother as I supposed, so it couldn't be him. But... wait. Does this f****** little bastard really have a slingshot? And does his mother/sister/close-to-be-grown-up-friend really cheer at him after he shoots? Outch. Vicy, Thomas and me refuged behind the glass of the bus stop. But Gio, undaunted by death, ran as fast as he could in the kids' direction. They absconded from justice into an house entrance, calling for help. And help came. The devil appeared in shape of a huge woman shouting and barking at our poor braveheart. Until that moment we were just the audience on the other side but we decided to help. What followed could have been a great musical scene: We appeared in Gio's back, uphill the street, downhill from the top the kids' family showed up. The woman - ok, that was really the kids' mother - shouted continually at Gio, something like: "If you beat them, I'm gonna beat the shit out of you!!!!". She seemed to be very agitated and as well drastic in her rage. Both "parties" met in the middle of the street. A lively discussion started, everybody was talking, nobody listening. If it was a musical, that would be the moment were the gangs start a dancing-till-death-battle. Well, perhaps it is sometimes useful to be experienced in breakdancing. We weren't and the Mama's on the other side neither. But after all, I don't have a clue if they did get the subject or were just rid of discussing, the other women on the street detered the fury and forced her back into the house. Finally we won... harrharrharrrrrr.....
And finally it was sunday again, what means live jazz in the park. Was a lot of fun, dancing again, chilling, the usual stuff. A very relaxing afternoon... well, after the DJ finished we got on our way back home but had to wait at he bus stop for some minutes. Suddenly something hit me, felt like an electric shock. First I thought it was imagination, but then it hit me another time. I moved a little and suddenly it was Vicy shouting... Something hit her. We wondered where it came from cause one by one we were all hurt. We spotted that boy on the other side on the road, but he was with his mother as I supposed, so it couldn't be him. But... wait. Does this f****** little bastard really have a slingshot? And does his mother/sister/close-to-be-grown-up-friend really cheer at him after he shoots? Outch. Vicy, Thomas and me refuged behind the glass of the bus stop. But Gio, undaunted by death, ran as fast as he could in the kids' direction. They absconded from justice into an house entrance, calling for help. And help came. The devil appeared in shape of a huge woman shouting and barking at our poor braveheart. Until that moment we were just the audience on the other side but we decided to help. What followed could have been a great musical scene: We appeared in Gio's back, uphill the street, downhill from the top the kids' family showed up. The woman - ok, that was really the kids' mother - shouted continually at Gio, something like: "If you beat them, I'm gonna beat the shit out of you!!!!". She seemed to be very agitated and as well drastic in her rage. Both "parties" met in the middle of the street. A lively discussion started, everybody was talking, nobody listening. If it was a musical, that would be the moment were the gangs start a dancing-till-death-battle. Well, perhaps it is sometimes useful to be experienced in breakdancing. We weren't and the Mama's on the other side neither. But after all, I don't have a clue if they did get the subject or were just rid of discussing, the other women on the street detered the fury and forced her back into the house. Finally we won... harrharrharrrrrr.....
I'll never gonna stop the rain by complaining...
...but raindrops keep falling on my head. For almost two weeks now.
12.05.2008
boavista & mountains of meat
This weekend me and Vicy decided to neglect our beloved Lisboa for some days in order to spy on the city of Porto, especially because we also had the opportunity to watch and celebrate the "Queima das Fitas", which is a portuguese party for students, where they totally freak out... to put it mildly. 
I never experienced such a crazy festa before and they do it for more than a week! There are hundreds of shacks rised by the study courses, playing ugly music and selling tons of alcoholic stuffs plus a stage and some tents with electronic music. As a student of cultural studies I researched a bit. Well, it's a simple result but I totally agree with the prior excepted hypothesis: the ultimate ambition of this festa is to get totally drunk. Unfortuantely I missed to gather supporting documents while enthusiasticly doing my field investigation. Erm... ja.
I never experienced such a crazy festa before and they do it for more than a week! There are hundreds of shacks rised by the study courses, playing ugly music and selling tons of alcoholic stuffs plus a stage and some tents with electronic music. As a student of cultural studies I researched a bit. Well, it's a simple result but I totally agree with the prior excepted hypothesis: the ultimate ambition of this festa is to get totally drunk. Unfortuantely I missed to gather supporting documents while enthusiasticly doing my field investigation. Erm... ja.The next day we finally finished work and started to do our holidays rough and ready by drinking (very portuguese!) liters of café and walking a bit tired through the ancient and beautiful city of Porto. In the tourist office we were couriously asked where we learned to speak Portuguese. "Well, we took courses at home but after all we practised in Lisboa". In that situation we could have thrown a red cloth at a bull to get a similar reaction. "I don't like people from Lisboa". "Ok.... hmmm... erm... why?" "Because they are dislikeable". "Hmm.. yeah... erm... why?" "Pois, ask them why they are dislikeable". Well, we thought it was smart not to ask neither him nor the Alfacinhas. It's a very ancient, curious, emotional issue and actually not our business. We were in the lucky position not to decide... and Porto is actually quite nice... after all. Hehehe.
Really nice was how hospitable we were welcomed by the two Marias: A warm and comfortable bed for the night in a nice and cosy flat in central Porto plus tons of delicious portuguese homecooked dishes - and after all always a café beside! I felt so "home away from home"... Well, if you read this one, thank you some much!
After some "finas" (in the south it's "imperiais", draft beer), we went to bed so tired... after all we walked around the whole day and climbed up this tall tower, which had round about 250 steps but offers you a view on the city that is really worth it.
The next day we were finally recovered for tasting two specialities of that region: portwine and francesinha. Well, the first matter is so famous that I think I don't have to explain. I just could say, you should once try the white one, it's suprisingly delicious.
The second one is... remarkable. I've never eaten a thing that is more or even same unhealthy than a francesinha before. To say it short: It nearly every kind of meat that you can imagine with toast (it's on purpose that it is mentioned this way round and not "toast with meat") , covered by cheese, spiced by a hot piri-piri-secret-ingrediences-but-seems-to-be-alcoholic-sauce.
The version "especial" adds an egg on top. Or in between. Who cares. To make it more healthy you have to add some vegetables, best are french fries, twice fried. It's futile to expect any other vegetable. It doesn't fit. (Even though rumours said that there was once, somewhere, somehow a restaurant that invented a vegetarian francesinha. Well, but I guess that would be a bit like chicken wings without chicken. Not even wings anymore.) Sounds absolutely perverted, doesn't it? It is, indeed, but it's sooooo delicious. We rolled our way back home afterwards. Walking would be the wrong expression.
We fnished that way too short trip by visiting the Fundação de Serralves and it's museum of contemporary art. The house and garden are so beautiful: Art Deco styled and very shiny... and after all I saw the exchebition of record art there, that was originally by the Bremen Museum and that I always wanted and after all missed to visit there. It's such a small world...
Really nice was how hospitable we were welcomed by the two Marias: A warm and comfortable bed for the night in a nice and cosy flat in central Porto plus tons of delicious portuguese homecooked dishes - and after all always a café beside! I felt so "home away from home"... Well, if you read this one, thank you some much!
After some "finas" (in the south it's "imperiais", draft beer), we went to bed so tired... after all we walked around the whole day and climbed up this tall tower, which had round about 250 steps but offers you a view on the city that is really worth it.
The next day we were finally recovered for tasting two specialities of that region: portwine and francesinha. Well, the first matter is so famous that I think I don't have to explain. I just could say, you should once try the white one, it's suprisingly delicious.The second one is... remarkable. I've never eaten a thing that is more or even same unhealthy than a francesinha before. To say it short: It nearly every kind of meat that you can imagine with toast (it's on purpose that it is mentioned this way round and not "toast with meat") , covered by cheese, spiced by a hot piri-piri-secret-ingrediences-but-seems-to-be-alcoholic-sauce.
The version "especial" adds an egg on top. Or in between. Who cares. To make it more healthy you have to add some vegetables, best are french fries, twice fried. It's futile to expect any other vegetable. It doesn't fit. (Even though rumours said that there was once, somewhere, somehow a restaurant that invented a vegetarian francesinha. Well, but I guess that would be a bit like chicken wings without chicken. Not even wings anymore.) Sounds absolutely perverted, doesn't it? It is, indeed, but it's sooooo delicious. We rolled our way back home afterwards. Walking would be the wrong expression.We fnished that way too short trip by visiting the Fundação de Serralves and it's museum of contemporary art. The house and garden are so beautiful: Art Deco styled and very shiny... and after all I saw the exchebition of record art there, that was originally by the Bremen Museum and that I always wanted and after all missed to visit there. It's such a small world...
06.05.2008
talkin' about a revolution (and other flower child matters)
Wooouuu, where do I start? Did a lot of exciting things the last few weeks. Well, first of all was enjoying the fantastic reunion with Evken after almost four years. Hope the next period will not be that long, weisse Bescheid nech? Well, she was quite lucky to be in Lisboa in the right time: On the 25th of April there was the national holiday to remember the Carnation Revolution, a Revolução dos Cravos, where the Portuguese finished the period of Salazar's dictatorship by a peaceful revolution. There was a big festa at the other side of the river, a lot of people, a lot of cheesy portuguese pop music and an opulent fireworks. But people told me, there will be a moment that I will ever remember. Well, they were right. It was really moving when the whole crowd of people started to sing "Grandola, Vila Morena", which became the sign that showed people that an era did end. To get an idea, here is the song: 
Afterwards everybody was cheering and they did distribute cloves to all the people while there was this neverending fireworks. We had to catch the last ferry afterwards, a bit tired but so happy. The next day it was so f****** hot, the only possible descision was to picknick in Parque Eduardo VII, which is next to my door and where fortuantely the demonstration started as well.
Great days of summertime... Several times I went to the beach the last weeks always in company of congenial, funny people. To put it in a nutshell: Nice conversations about everything under the sun, swimming in the ocean,
delicious picknicks again, people diggin beachvolleyballs because of being bored, loooooooots of icecream, lobster-like sunburn (but later it got tanned!) and at least a sensational reading of one of Woody Allen's works spontaneously literally translated from italian to the origin english. Very Prestige!
To finish I have to mention that marvelous event on Sunday close to the Torre de Bélem. After a long walk from Cais do Sodré on a very hot day, following the rails like a group of wild west cowboys who actually lost their horses, singing Tom Waits-like and always longing for some fresh water, we finally reached the park.
It felt like
paradise: A lot of people hanging round, chilling in those cozy and large pillows, free ice-tea again (why is there either jazz or free drinks or both when I enter a place in Lisbon? Well, I won't complain...), children playing football, laughing, the sun slowly set herself to dawn in front of the perfect scenery of the river Tejo while there was phantastic smooth nu- and acid jazz (yeeeeha, my favourite!!!) that made me forget about my tired feet and all of my worries and all of us dancing till dark.
p.s.: Eva, Tomáš e Vicy, muito obrigada pela tirar fotografias!
Afterwards everybody was cheering and they did distribute cloves to all the people while there was this neverending fireworks. We had to catch the last ferry afterwards, a bit tired but so happy. The next day it was so f****** hot, the only possible descision was to picknick in Parque Eduardo VII, which is next to my door and where fortuantely the demonstration started as well.
Great days of summertime... Several times I went to the beach the last weeks always in company of congenial, funny people. To put it in a nutshell: Nice conversations about everything under the sun, swimming in the ocean,
delicious picknicks again, people diggin beachvolleyballs because of being bored, loooooooots of icecream, lobster-like sunburn (but later it got tanned!) and at least a sensational reading of one of Woody Allen's works spontaneously literally translated from italian to the origin english. Very Prestige!To finish I have to mention that marvelous event on Sunday close to the Torre de Bélem. After a long walk from Cais do Sodré on a very hot day, following the rails like a group of wild west cowboys who actually lost their horses, singing Tom Waits-like and always longing for some fresh water, we finally reached the park.
It felt like
paradise: A lot of people hanging round, chilling in those cozy and large pillows, free ice-tea again (why is there either jazz or free drinks or both when I enter a place in Lisbon? Well, I won't complain...), children playing football, laughing, the sun slowly set herself to dawn in front of the perfect scenery of the river Tejo while there was phantastic smooth nu- and acid jazz (yeeeeha, my favourite!!!) that made me forget about my tired feet and all of my worries and all of us dancing till dark.p.s.: Eva, Tomáš e Vicy, muito obrigada pela tirar fotografias!
Lisa em Lisboa
Bremen im April 2007. Wetter - angekündigt als Jahrhundertsommer - nasskaltgrau. Tenho saudade de Portugal. Ein Plan muss gefasst werden. Korrespondenz mit Erasmus von Rotterdam. Bremen im Februar 2008. Wetter unverändert, Koffer gepackt. Alegro-me à luz de Lisboa...
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