lisbon, portugal

9 Sep

The old city of Lisbon is a bizarre world of speedy cars, trams and sidewalks so arrow that if you don’t turn yourself said ways as the busses pass, you will in fact, die.* It really is a party town with much to give the senses, especially taste. Late one night after going out for dinner and getting completely ripped off, (that was how much?), we decided to head back to the hostel we were staying at but took the long way about so we could see more of the city. Lucas was still hungry so we stopped at tiny corner store that sold french fries. I was thirsty so I got water which I grab myself right out of a fridge. This isn’t uncommon in Portugal: there’s a fridge, you grab your drink of choice, you pay.  Lucas grabbed his french fries, I grabbed a water and we stood on the steppes outside. While I was talking away with Lucas I opened up the bottle and I put it closer to my mouth. Wait a minute, “Babe, I”m not sure that was difficult to open.. I mean, I don’t think that I opened the little plastic tabs, but I was talking and I can’t be sure.” Lucas took the bottle from me . Smelled it. Drank it. Threw his head back.” “Thats’ not water,” he said with a hoarse voice. We grabbed the bottle out of the fridge ourselves, the bottle that stood among all of the rest of the exact same water bottles.  “What is it? What do you mean.” “That’s home made alcohol.”

We walked back into the store and gave it to the small Indian man that was behind the counter. “I don’t think this is water.” He looked at us and took the bottle. “Smell it.” He smelled it.

“Oh! It’s alcohol. Some for you?”

“Uh, no thanks.”

Lisbon, you and your moonshine were wonderful for a first stop. I like you but I don’t feel the need to ever see you again; I grew up in a big city and there is much of Portugal to see. Although, you were my first stop in Europe so you will always have a piece go my heart. A very tiny piece. I mean, really, really tiny. It’s me, not you.

*This is not a fact.

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