The Crew Arrives

Yesterday the crew rolled into Lisbon. I can’t tell you how heavily I rely on technology in the states and how drastically it changes my life when I can no longer rely on it. The lack of planning on our part made it so we were staying in two different hostels last night. J. Whoadie, Koci and Munk in The Oasis Backpackers Hostel in Bairro Alto and me in The Living Lounge Hostel in Baixo. I got an email from Munk early Saturday morning when they got in to the airport saying that they would be at their hostel at noon and to come meet them. I made it their hostel at about 12:30 and they were gone but the girl at the front desk said they were looking for me and told me where she recommended they go to get food. When I got there they were no where to be found so I came back to the hostel and worked on a blog for a while before I got hungry myself so I went back there and got a bite.

For a moment I need to stop and ask that when you are out to eat or in public in general that you not turn your head and stare when you see someone from another country. I also ask that you not try to take pictures of them of them incognito. It was so bad yesterday that I felt I needed to write about it but the entire trip I have felt like a zoo exhibit and yes several times I have been doing nothing of note and have been photographed by locals or other European travelers.

The food was not terribly noteworthy but the view and drinks were delicious. The hills in Lisbon are absolutely ridiculous and you hate them when you’re walking but they gave the Noo Bai Café one of the best views that I have ever seen while dining out. In the middle of my meal while I was sipping on vodka lemonade a couple next to me got a big carafe of what looked like a white sangria. I asked my server what it was and he told me that it was a sparkling wine sangria and I immediately jumped on the offer - when the language barrier is as impenetrable as fort knox and the service is as about as fast molasses in January getting a litre of a delicious drink is a much better call than the 8 oz. standard of Portugal.

While at the café I sent an email to Munk letting him know that I’d be at the No Bai Café right next to the Oasis and to come meet me whenever he gets back. An hour or so later I got an email telling me that they were on the top deck of the Café and to come meet them if I was still at the café. Fortunately I was and 3 hours after I had planned to meet up with them I finally did.

We ordered another carafe of sangria and while waiting for their food to arrive and they filled me in on the details of their journey and events of the previous weekend (My good friend Ern’s birthday was last Saturday and I let him have a party at my place while I was out of town – as I thought it might be, it was a bad idea.) Munk mentioned that he had spoken with a guy on the bus that told him the Portugal vs. Hungary World Cup qualifying match was that evening and 80,000 people were going to be there. We all agreed that was definitely the best plan for the evening and quickly figured out the best way to get ourselves some tickets – fortunately our waiter spoke better English than many people I know in the States.

After lunch we went back to their hostel so they could shower up. While waiting I played some cards and drank some beers with a Spanish girl, Rossio. If you think that explaining a complicated card game is difficult in English then try explaining it in Spanish. I wouldn’t know whether it’s difficult or not because Munk did the talking since he’s fluent. I was definitely very impressed though. Around 6 o’clock everyone was finally ready and we made out way over to my hostel so I could check in and grab a shower as well. A few more beers and some directions to the stadium later we were on the metro on our way to Colegio do Cuidade where Portugal plays futbol. The line for tickets was easily a quarter of a mile long when we got there, we actually contemplated going to a bar nearby and watching the game there but thought better of the idea. Fortunately when we finally found the end of the line there was a guy at the end selling tickets for 20 euro (5 euro cheaper than we were told we would get them for) and after making sure they were real we bought them and were on our way into the stadium.

When we got to our section we went to a concession stand and ordered quatro cerveja. The woman could tell that I was from the US and she said to me in impeccably perfect English “the beers have no alcohol in them.” You’re joking right? No, you can no longer sell alcohol in the stadiums in Portugal, people drink too much before they come in so they need to sober up here so they don’t get into fights. So we’re at the game an hour early, half-buzzing, me working off 4 hours of sleep, the crew working off of zero sleep in the past 36 hours and we can’t leave the game and come back. I don’t mean to give the impression that I can’t have fun without drinking. The match was awesome and I’d do it again in a second. But for me to have a buzz going, trying to not fall asleep, trying to get pumped for the game stealing my only form of artificial energy (read: booze) completely took the wind out my sails. At half time when the score was 1-0 Portugal we were struggling to stay awake. The crowd was not too into it because there wasn’t much action going on and our lack of rest was catching up to us. We struggled through the next 20-25 minutes and then Portugal scored another goal and the stadium went nuts and we were right back in it - the 8 shots of espresso that I bought us didn’t hurt the matter too much, I’m sure.

After the game we made our way out of the stadium finally and decided it would be a better idea to grab a bite to eat and let the metro calm down before we made our way back downtown. Next door to the stadium is the biggest, most luxurious mall that I have ever been in. We found a Brazilian restaurant and got a delicious meal of rice, beans, steak, french fries (what they call chips), salad, fried bananas and a Brazilian rum drink all for right around 6 euro. This would have been a ridiculous deal anywhere but in a mall that was this expensive I was very impressed. We must have been too exhausted and hungry to notice before our meal but mid meal it became increasingly difficult to chew as my jaw was on the floor due the plethora of hands down the most gorgeous women that I have ever seen concentrated in one place on earth. I learned three important things at dinner last night: 1.) God is great and (s)he loves me. 2.) The woman I marry will be Portuguese, and as a far more insignificant tertiary lesson 3.) Brazilian food is off the hook.

After the game we stopped by my hostel so I could freshen up, then went to the fellas hostel to party with some of the kids there but apparently there is no partying after 1 am in the hostel so Bairro Alto it was. Bairro Alto is a section of Lisbon that is closed off to car traffic and a bunch of kids my age party in the streets. We quickly realized how awesome this place was when we ordered 4 shots of Absinth and the total was 4 euro – needless to say I offered to pay for that round. A few bars later we found a club called the Groove Bar and stepped inside. It was about 2 am at this point and we were starting to feel a little better than we were at the game – Munk and Koce were chatting up a Portuguese guy some of his friends (getting advice on how to talk to Portuguese women) Jared I were dancing sitting down in our barstools.

An undeterminable time later I introduced the gentleman to the B52. Shortly after Munk introduced Koce to the statue of Liberty – dip your thumb in a shot of absinth, light it on fire holding it up like the statue of Liberty’s torch, take the shot and then blow out your thumb on fire. Despite the fact that Munk has done this before he dipped his thumb too far into the shot so the more sensitive skin got burned. He now has a blister and has been bitching about it since.

At one point in the night I came out of a bar to find Munk talking to some girls who I later found out were from the Canary Islands. He was speaking to them in Spanish as their English was bad and he’s fluent. I found out two things from the next 15 minutes: 1.) My Spanish is significantly worse than I thought; and 2.) Girls from the Canary Islands are gorgeous.

At 3 am Bairro Alto closes down so we went, with the Canaries, over to a club across town. When we got to the front of the line to get into the club Jared was not allowed in because he had mesh shorts on. I would like to take this time to point your attention to a quote from my wall on Facebook. Jared asked on my wall on facebook if they would allow him into the club with a pair of high top shoes that he wears often. My friend Monica responded to it by saying: “Yes they will.. Trust me when I say wear whatever you want =)” Jared responded to the bouncer by calling me out and asking if they were going to let me in wearing cut off khaki shorts and flip flops – nice guy he is. They did let me in and Jared and Justin left. Fortunately the Canaries stayed with us. 10 minutes later I look over to see Koce making out/dancing with one of Canaries. My Spanish was getting much worse as the night went out as was the girls English that I was talking to. We were trying to talk the whole night (5 am at this point so I guess we could call it morning) but there was very little actual communication going on. At 6 am when the club closed we grabbed a cab and headed home. We dropped the girls at their hostel and a little bit down the road I got out to walk to my hostel 5 minutes down the street and Koce took the cab to his hostel. At noon I was woken up by the maid asking me in Portuguese if I could please get up so she could make my bed for the next guest that was to be staying there. Rude awakening.