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Yeah, so much for staying here for three or four days. We've been here for almost three weeks now, but after some serious beach, serious sun and serious partying, it's time to move on. Jay and I were very close to finding jobs here and staying until the middle of July. Eventually, though, we decided to keep moving, see most of what we came here to see, and come back next May for jobs.

Lagos is a small city overrun by Australians and Canadians. Americans, Kiwis and Brits make cameo appearances. The old part of the city, where we spent almost all of our time, is narrow streets and small white buildings enclosed in ancient city walls. It was originally a shipping outpost built by Henry the Navigator in the 15th century. At its best it was a major shipping and naval outpost for Portugal; at its worst it was a stop on the slave trade on the way to the Americas.

We're staying at the Rising Cock (the innuendo is definitely intended, but it has a double meaning because the rooster is a national symbol of Portugal), a great hostel owned by two guys born in Springfield, Mass., to Portuguese parents. It's close to the beach, a number of cafés and a number of bars. Basically, the initial vibe of the town and the hostel led us to immediately decide to stay for a week instead of just a couple days. A week turned into two, and then, here we are 17 days later. As we stayed on, though, the people we met -- from all over the place -- were incredible and encouraged us to hang on longer as well.

Our room was amazing, too. All but one of the rooms were typical of hostels, with eight to 10 bunks. Ours was a loft in the back of the hostel. Inside the door was a single bed, then steps that led up to three more bunks. Jay and I had two of those the whole time we stayed. In the very back of the loft, a small doorway led to another room, called the Cave, with two bunks. One of those is reserved for the guy who works the desk overnight. For about a week, a Kiwi named Aljo, a tall guy with black dredlocks, stayed in there by himself. He left -- after running the halls naked one night with four other Kiwis and pissing off a number of others staying there, including a really good friend of the owner -- it was empty for a few days. Soon after, an Australian from Melbourne -- Anthony, who had girls in his bed all but three nights we stayed there -- who arrived at the Cock three days before us moved in and worked the overnight shifts.

The nearby beach was stunning. Soft sand, shade if the sun was too hot, a view of the amazing cliffs nearby, and tons of people. Most of the people we met -- those who weren't native Portuguese, that is -- were either backpackers who stayed a few days, or stayed a few days and got stuck like we did, or those working and living there for the entire season. There were a small number of people we ran into who were just on vacation.

Two of them were fantastic Swiss girls we met on the beach. I was interviewing people for a travel piece I want to write on Lagos, and interviewed them because they were lying near me and Jay. Katarina is from near Zürich, and Corrine lives closer to Berne. They were wicked funny and we had a blast with them the whole week they were there. We're both anxious to get to Switzerland, because Corrine offered to let us stay at her apartment and show us around. Corrine thought my name was Dog when I introduced myself, so all week they called me Doggystyle. Jay was Buddha because of his belly and Aljo, fittingly, was named Kiwi.

All the bars, like many of the activities, are geared to getting you as drunk as they can. It's the complete opposite of bars at home. While bartending, both in Boston and in State College, we were warned to watch for VIPs - Visibly Intoxicated Patrons. In Lagos, they also look for VIPs and if you're not one of them, they pour booze down your throat. I was sitting in a place called Three Monkeys one afternoon when a couple walked in and ordered lemonade. One of the patrons, an Australian named Wayne who works in town, stood up and loudly booed them with me. The bartender eventually convinced them to add vodka to their lemonade. They finished it quickly and left.

One of those drunk-driven activities is a booze cruise and on Saturday, June 7, we went on one with about 60 or 70 other people, most of whom were staying at the Cock. It started at a nearby bar, Joe's Garage, at 1, then they led us to the marina and loaded us on a boat that took us out for three or four hours. Everyone had a blast, and by the end of it people were just cracking beer cans and spraying all over everyone. When we headed back from the marina, four Kiwis, some of the craziest people I've ever met, jumped off a footbridge into a canal about 35 feet below. They didn't know how deep it was, but just dumped their clothes and jumped off. Once people saw they survived, about 20 others jumped, including Jay but excluding me. I wasn't crazy enough... or drunk enough.

Incidentally, those four Kiwis (three guys and one girl) are part of the reason Aljo left the Cock. The night after the booze cruise, they decided to get naked, run amok in the hallway and jump on people's beds. After the owner made them leave for the night, the four Kiwis, excluding Aljo, went to the Three Monkeys, butt naked, and 1) were allowed inside, 2) served beers and funnels, and 3) stayed for a half hour or so while posing for photographs with people. That's the mentality of Lagos.

After 10 days, we decided to stay here for four more weeks and get jobs. Bartending jobs are harder to get in June; you have to get in town in mid May or so to get one of those. There are jobs flyering for bars, though, which means you stand outside on the street and talk people into coming in. You're basically a human flyer for the place. Those jobs were supposed to be fairly easy to get and the turnover is high. The bars would make you drink while working, I guess to loosen you up so you have more fun and encourage people inside. A lot of times, though, people would get too drunk and too rowdy and get fired. You could still get your job back a couple days later, and that frequently happened.

I tried to get the overnight desk job at the Cock because you stayed for free and got €20 each night you worked. I wouldn't really be making any money, but we could tread water for a little while. That didn't work out, because Anthony was higher on the list because he'd been there a bit longer.

We didn't have too much luck getting flyering jobs either, and by the time two weeks came and went, we were starting to get sick for pushing ourselves too hard for too long without a break. Jay was laid up in bed for a few days. I still went to the beach and went around a bit, but the partying is over. We decided to rest up and head out of town. Jay's mom sent a care package from home ($175 to send it overnight!), but it took a couple days to get to Lagos because it was held up in Portuguese customs. There were some creams and powders Jay needed from home, so they had to check everything out.

So we reserved a place at the Sky Hostel in Porto and plan to stay there for a couple days. There's a festival for the city's patron saint, São João, Monday and we might stay there for that. Afterward, we're heading to Santiago de Compostela to walk an ancient pilgrimage road for a few days. By the end of next week, we're thinking of going to Pamplona to check out the running of the bulls. Not to run! We'd all be killed. But the place turns into a zoo, and it would be fun to see the spectacle.

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