I attract crazy people. Apparently Kootenay does nothing to repel them. We walk the seawall everyday. There we have met lots of nice people. We met Vitor and Spock, Dalmatian Dad, Pete, Daniel, Bruno, Greyhound Guy, and Long Hair just to name a few.
We have also met some odd balls. One guy wanted us to walk in the forest with him. Another wanted us to walk out to the lighthouse with him. One guy, who looked to be about sixty wanted us to come home with him and have dinner with his mother. Common sense and caution have kept me from taking up any of those offers.
Yesterday's odd ball was the best so far. I was sitting at Farol (coffee shop) working on my novel and was wearing earphone listening to Jenny Owen Youngs' new music (Love it). I heard the chair across from me being pulled back from the table. I was expecting Michael and Chris so I looked up and smiled. Sitting there was Joseph. I know this because he introduced himself to me and asked to buy me a drink. I declined the drink and started back at my computer.
"Nice dog" he says.
"Thank you" I respond cautiously. I didn't want to be dismissive, but my crazy-o-meter started to sound.
He is from Fatima, works in the tourism business, lives with his mom, is single, and likes to use his english.
Wow. All that information while I desperately scan the crowd in the Plaza hoping to catch sight of Michael.
Joseph calls over Barbara, my cool Brazilian waitress who graciously allows me to take up an outside table and moves the giant umbrella that keeps my pasty white skin from burning. I like her.
"Men in Portugal always pay for ladies' drinks." He tells me. As I didn't allow him to buy me a new drink he has asked Barbara to bring him my tab for the drinks I had before he got there. I only realize this after Barbara brings him a bill. The fast paced singsong Portuguese he and Barbara shared was more than my little brain could piece together. Lentamente. Slowly. A word I use often. How am I going to extract myself from this? And if a Portuguese guy spends 1.50 euros on you what does he expect?
I figure I won't have to worry about this because I see Michael and his friend Chris making their way to my table.
"We can find a free table" Chris says smiling "If you are busy." There is an implied wink in his gaze.
Luckily Michael is a better judge of what is going on and sits down. Phew!
Joseph quickly realizes that Michael and Chris couldn't fill the role in my life that he sees for himself. (They are gay. In case you weren't aware.)
As we all get settled and Michael and Chris pull out their playing cards I feel something on my toes. My first thought is that my feet are in the way of Michael's. I pull my feet back under my chair to make more room for him. Now i feel something moving up my leg. This isn't incidental contact.
Joseph now knows that it has been some time since I last shaved my legs. What the hell....
A big dog is supposed to save you from things like this. I look around for Kootenay. There she is with her head in the lap of Book Boy. Can't blame her. He is cute. Why isn't it his feet I am wrestling with under the table.

Deep Sighs

I don't want to go back to work. I am sitting here at Cafe O Farol, sipping cha preto (black tea) and contemplating my future. I thought i would miss working. I don't. If anyone has any suggestions on how I could support myself on the beaches of Portugal i would appreciate any suggestions. I am even wiling to give up good tea to be here. Those of you who know me know that is a big sacrifice. Portugal is a coffee culture. My love of tea is a handicap here. Not as big a handicap as not speaking Portuguese. I think I would have more friends if I could communicate a little more clearly. Hand gestures, charades, and phrase books can only take you so far.
A note of thanks to RcSdC for having an unprotected wireless connection by the cafe. Please don't read this and take away my tenuous connection with the cyberworld.

Who are the People in Your Neighbourhood

Birds. Singing. Cats. Singing. Waves. Shouting.
Okay it might not be shouting, but from my side of the wall it is difficult to tell the difference. My neighbour is a very boisterous lady. She is the wife and mother of fishers. I can easily see her filling the role of fishmonger. Despite being separated by four rooms and brick walls doesn’t dampen her volume. I hear her every morning.
When I first arrived in Nazare she scared me. She seems tough and, I thought, not very friendly. For Kootenay and I’s first months she alternately ignored us or spoke harshly and gestured in our direction. When I ran into problems hooking my gas tank up, I went to ask her for some help and ended up more frightened of her than of leaking gas.
This all changed a few weeks ago. The city hosted a festival. Portugal seems to have something to celebrate every month. This festival was to pray for a productive and safe fishing season. Fishers from Nazare make their way around the world. I have met people who have fished in France, Spain, England and Canada. The celebration involved various saints being paraded through town and then onto to the fishing boats. There they were loaded onto the boats and then the boats headed out to sea. They circled the bay three times while fireworks were shot off from the bluffs of Sito. When they returned the local priests lead prayers.
My friend Vitor managed to get us a ride on one of the boats for the festivities. Nazare was very appealing with its white washed houses topped with red tile roofs. Looking back on it from the sea added to its charm.
People lined the shores and waved to the boats as they made their way out to sea.
You don’t get seasick do you? This question was asked of me more the a few times as we made our way out of the harbour. I cheerfully said No and hoped that was the truth.
It was a great day. The sun was warm. I didn’t get seasick, and the fishers were gracious enough to share their beer with me.
About a week later my neighbour stopped me as I was returning home from walking Kootenay. She gestured for me to stay where I was and ran back into her house. I waited nervously. I knew that Koot hadn’t done anything wrong, and assumed that I hadn’t either, but my go to emotion is always guilt.
She came back out of the house with an 8X10 picture of one of the boats. There I was sitting on the boat heading out to sea. She had a picture of me. Odd.
Turns out it was her family’s boat. Vitor is a friend of her son. When we hitched the ride on the boat none of us knew that we would all be so closely connected.
Now when I hear her singing/shouting from the place next door I smile. I am pretty sure I haven’t done anything to make her mad at me. I think she might even like me little bit.