Portugal! nice.

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Hullo! well, firstly i have to admit to the fallacy of pretending to still be in portugal, this is being written whilst in a warm little cafe in Beirritz France (surfie town, cool cigarette smoke exhaling cold, hot frenchies..). So, portugal is just a memory for me now, but let me represent in the true style of impressionism that has come to set the standard for my Blogs.. with a touch of surrealism for those keen on adventure in their reading. Okay? orright.
Phew! its been a big one. Again i've forgotten about my last one so hang on a sec.
Alright! hanging out in Sevilla, i do recall. So, as transit always has a way of fucking us (the french swear, i do declare..), we managed after several busses, a few hours of trudging and one regretted taxi ride to find our little free villa in the southern Argive region, a town called Olhos de Agua (Eyes of the Sea.. didnt even have to look it up! ed. liar, he read it in a pommy tourist guide and went 'ooh, interesting..'). So the place was obviously incredible coz it was free, and also we had a swimming pool and also cheap grog and also a beach and! oh! exciting stuff! but it was as boring as Southern Portugal, as they say, the place was packed with those Nearly-Dead types that cling to their brandy and cokes for dear life while their husbands repeat the same four sentimental joveties in an incessant pommy gait that killed me. Good times though, we were a novelty and we got half-cut with a couple of old man bartenders dying to tell us about their cousin Jan from the middle of who-the-fark-cares Australia. Sounds like a nice lady though, and yes come into the exeter for a beer if you are ever over, and good luck with the new hips Gladys! I SAID GOOD LUCK OH SHIT, NEVERMIND..sigh. im so fake. haha
Hum, so from there it was quite an easy expedition up the coast a bit to Lagos (pronounced 'La Gosh', which is also what i call the french-pretty-chickies..).. Lagos is a super nice little surfie town, think Victor, Lorne, Byron.. But with more Australians. Seriously, the place is rife with us, G'daying here and 'Crikey'ing' there, its ridiculous. I was John from England for the week just to stand out from the crowd, and i was a damn novelty.
So, the hostel we stayed in, named the Rising Cock (ive been told they also have a 'Camel Toe' hostel.. i dont get it? Oh! haha thats gross.
anyway, the hostel was just a stupid big party all night and so after 3 days of beer bong competitions and drinking games and general lockie-foolery i was a bit ill for 3 or 4 days.. i laid off the booze though, managed to catch a bit of daylight even, and now im back in form! poor world, missing out on my company..
So, also the town had some of the best beaches ive seen over here (when they tell you its a nice beach, its water churning against dirt. nothing more.) But these actually were the mad gear, so i got a couple of swims in and a few cool pics too (remember folks, they all go into facebook..).
Alright! Lisbon man! ive been looking forward to this part because i simply loved it so much, the lady in front of me is getting weirded out by my big grin and frantic keyboard-slapping enthusiam but i dont care! Im coming out of the closet and telling the world, im a Lisbion!! agghh its liberating. Seriously though, its one of the coolest cities ive visited thus far; an amazing combination of hills, narrow streets, rickety roller coaster trams, an amazing waterfront (moderned up, but thats cool..) and to top it off a phenomenon in the 'Barrio Alto' that is too much for a young happy-go-lockie boy like myself.. On the weekends, this one block of cobbled streets, covered in graffiti and stencils, smelling of familiar plants and reeking of 'cool, man.', turns into a wild street party with thousands of folk all in a big uhhh orgy i guess of drinking and talking and jumping up and down and also posing but thats ok in this case coz ya gotta look good! haha. Nah but the vibe is beautiful, all portugese people are incredibly friendly and are dying to ask about the dangerous and difficult logistics of riding a kangaroo to school in the mornings. (I told them how thats not the case, but in fact there is a tremendous market for kangaroo meat, murders occur daily and all suffer the most cruel of Steve Erwin-esque humiliation in the process.) ahaha they are so nice they actually laughed at my rather un-funny swing in conversation.
Wow im not making alot of sense. ah well.
So after lisbon, which is much more difficult to place in words than i realized, we headed up the coast to Porto which is a similar vibe.. Glee filled Lockie when i dropped the O off Porto and was left with Port, because baby its all about the gods-blood-concentrate (they all be damn catholics..sigh..) there.. After the first 'tastings' (a couple of glasses with some more nearly-deads) i was cut, but man after the next 4 or 5 it was all downhill; unfortunately downhill usually heads to water and i coulda ended up in it was it not for a place that sold portugese chicken, with piri piri (chilli). oh man. I need my fix man, i need some chicken.. cmon man, dont hold out, just a sliver... stupid french cuisine, what is it? well thats what im gonna find out. so, ending randomly, ive gotten to France now and am starting another big bloody adventure with a fresh hair cut, only slightly stubbly beard, and, well, quite dirty fingernails i admit.
Love u all, take care
Lockie

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