Chile's Corner
OBSERVATIONS FROM PORTUGAL
By Chile Hidalgo
My girlfriend and I just got back from a six-day vacation in Portugal.
Things that seem like they should be the same abroad as back home are just different enough to be disconcerting. Take coffee. You'd think -- or, well, I thought -- that ordering a cup of coffee would consist of me walking into any of the mom 'n pop-type coffeehouse/deli-type places that litter downtown Lisbon and saying something like "un cafe." As it turns out, though, "un cafe" gets you an espresso. I think. After two or three tries with "un cafe," and some guide book consultation, I switched to asking for a "bica." Turns out that "bica" is the Portuguese word for espresso. Nothing wrong with espressos, but they're frustrating when you want a regular-sized cup of coffee, people all around you are drinking regular-sized cups of coffee, you think you're ordering a regular-sized cup of coffee, and mom or pop sets an espresso down in front of you. About midway through day three, I resigned myself to espressos for the rest of the trip.
In theory, topless beaches sound like a good thing. After visiting one where about 20 percent of the females were topless, however, I've concluded that they're pretty stress-inducing and overall not all that exciting. Especially if you're there with your girlfriend. For one thing, toplessness at the beach is very democratic. There are no age- or size-based requirements. When I caught myself staring at someone, more often than not it was in horror and disgust rather than in admiration and appreciation. For another, constant vigilance was required to avoid any sort of girlfriend-related controversy. I don't think I've ever been as attentive to my book while reading at the beach. In addition, all comments made by the girlfriend about the outfits or lack of outfits of anyone on the beach required careful noncommittal answers. "Oh, that thong? I hadn't noticed it. My book is quite absorbing, you see, and I haven't looked up much." Finally, it's disconcerting to realize that someone you initially thought was a topless woman in actuality is a guy wearing a Speedo who has waxed or shaved various parts of his body.
It's always important to me to not look like a tourist when I'm on vacation somewhere. I managed that pretty successfully in Portugal, with the assistance of my black hair, brown eyes, and 5'4" frame. Although it required me to wear my Easy Street Records shirt for 3 days, I was able to avoid bringing any sports-related t-shirts on the trip. And my Spanish helped me fake enough Portuguese to initially fool people. Unfortunately, my being able to avoid looking like a tourist led directly to me being confused with a mildly mentally challenged Portuguese youth. It's one thing to handle easy comments like "dois Euros," it's another to have someone ask you to give them directions to the nearest subway station. When I found myself standing there with my mouth hanging open after the second type of question, I got more than one quizzical "what's the matter with this kid?" looks before I was able to muster a "sorry, turista" or "Americano."
Of course, looking like a tourist is something that not everyone cares about as much as I do. We were at a seafood restaurant one night when a very loud, very American group walked in. Perhaps the loudest of the group (not that the rest of them were in any way quiet), who was also wearing a cowboy hat, walked over to the fish/crustacean tank at the front of the restaurant, pointing at a couple of lobsters and hollering "I'm gonna eat me that lobster, and my wife, she's gonna eat herself that lobster." The waiter, confused, said, "This is good joke," then realized the guy was serious and walked off muttering to himself. Moments later, after trying the hot sauce served with his appetizer, the gentleman in the cowboy hat yelled, "yee-haw!" and "dang!" while shaking his head and generally making sure that everyone in the restaurant was aware of every one of his actions. He was pretty sweet. Then you wonder why Americans get such a bad rap abroad.
It's definitely much easier to find out about your teams dropping the first two games of a five-game playoff series or allowing 41 points at home by watching the CNN Europe sports ticker than by watching the games themselves. However, because the baseball scores only came up once every fourth or fifth ticker cycle, I know significantly more about the Australia vs. World XI cricket Super Series matches than I ever thought I would. I've also acquired a good understanding of the fixtures for this year's UEFA Cup, and the possibly non-existent disagreement between English national team players Wayne Rooney and David Beckham. On the flip side, as I kept waiting for the Red Sox score to come up, I wondered how, say, an English soccer fan on vacation in the US must feel watching the ESPN ticker and seeing the number of catches that Dallas' third wide receiver collected on the day while hoping that just maybe some Premiership scores might flash by.
A word on fashion: anything with seemingly unrelated English words strewn together goes over very well, one of the reasons why my Easy Street Records shirt went over very well. The best illustration of this was a skin-tight red spandex-y shirt worn by this middle-aged guy that said, across the front, "Houston University" and "Oklahoma," and then, diagonally and upside down between the names of the two schools, "CSM Sport."
The trip was fantastic and all, and spending a week seeing gorgeous buildings and castles and going to optionally topless beaches is awesome and all, but it's nice to be back. I definitely enjoyed the crap out of a cup of Starbucks coffee and the Globe sports section while wearing my Sox cap my first day back.
Previous Chile's Corner: Playoffs?!?!?
<< Home