Southside Swang

I remember those hot, wide streets near the rumbling train tracks. I remember those corner stores and dark-skinned characters always ready to surprise you with a smile or a sinister stare. Twilight lathered swimming pools and 32 ounces of Miller High Life to end a day of bike riding and couch visits. Porch dwelling and grass watching filled the hours in between class and work. That often ignored, but frequently enjoyed, sound of a jubilant accordion makes me wish now that I was capable of teaching people how to 2-step, but instead I can only stumble my way through it while pretending I know what's going on. Oh roux! you dirty brown concoction that is the beginning and end to so many meals in that humid state. How could I wait 24 years before making you for the first time, thousands of miles from where you inspired me. Louisiana, you're like a friend that I never tried to make, but then one day I find myself telling you all of my secrets, although I'm just beginning to listen to yours.

a tedious process

surfing is hard:  First, you have to learn how to read and judge the weather conditions. Then, you have to hop two buses to get to the beach and hope that the ocean looks like you thought it would. Having the right board is turning out to be more fundamental than I thought, but I´m going to stick with the dauntingly small board that was lent to me. Squeezing your way into a wetsuit can be as hard as throwing the covers off when you wake up in the morning. Tackling the initial shock of the freezing Atlantic is like storming a castle, while battling the waves until you get to the safezone behind them is a lesson in patience and perseverance, one that often makes me wonder what I´m doing out there wobbling to and fro while trying to keep myself centered on the board. Then come the waves. You have to judge them, position yourself, time the take off, control your paddling motion, STAND UP, keep you balance and try to look cool at the same time. And if it doesn´t work out, you have to fight the waves and try again. I´ve got a lot of practice ahead of me, and man I want a car.

porty pics

and now portugal

i don´t know that much about Portugal. many people reccomend knowing the historical or cultural significance of a place before going there in order to enrich your overall experience. I didn´t know shit. Except some remnants leftover from my interest in the Conquest and periods of exploration. I´d forgotten that Portugal was the mackdaddy in the 15th and 16th centuries and discovered half of the known world at the time. Now it´s just another victim of the tough economic times of the day. But it still has a lot to offer.

I arrived home from the Feria de Vino late Sunday evening with a hangover and a lot of uncertainty about getting in a car the next day and travelling for the better part of a week. Safe to say i was burnt out. Nico, my roomie, the voice of reason and leisure, said i was crazy for even considering going and that i should stay home and relax for vacation. I agreed, but couldn´t shake the thought that i might wake up on Wednesday with nothing to do and wish that i was in Portugal. I decided to decide about the decision in the morning. I didn´t pack; i went to bed. My phone rang at 10 with Dan saying that they would arrive shortly and to come down and meet them. That was it, i wasn´t going. I would give them the camping gear and head back upstairs. Then Dan convinced me just to close my eyes and get in the car. I did it. I´m happy now, although i was cursing my lack of resolve for 2 days into the trip. The pressure i put on myself to save for my summer vacations was making me wonder why i had come to Portugal when i didn´t know anything about the country and there was no real objective for the trip. I feared i would leak money for 6 days.

We drove 6 or 7 hours to a beach and campsite just north of Lisbon and set up shop. The campsite was nestled behind some sand dunes a couple of blocks from the beach, which was surrounded by cliffs. the facilities were nice but our supplies were scarce. We had about 2 dozen cookies and cinnoman rolls infused with weed. Satiation and alteration fused into one. It was me, Dan, Drew and Christine, all Americans with the same program. The stoned lack of decision making and direction really bothered me at first. I was quite pessimistic at first, but surpassed that nasty feeling in the coming days. A list of the cool things...

1. Sintra-- the former vacation spot of the king and high class when they wanted to escape the city. It´s a super picturesque town hidden in a lush valley and overlooked by a mountaintop castle. The old estates were taken from a fairytale, with underground tunnels that weave through darkness and spit you out at hidden lagoons or on top of a tower or the bottom of a well. By far a highlight of the trip and life in general. We spent the day getting lost in castles and palaces. Childhood relived. Check.

2. Camping. Having now problem getting up in the morning because that´s just how you feel when you camp.

3. Not camping. Hostel life is great and we had a blast in Lisbon and met some cool people. Lisbon was really pretty, but the weather was a bit dreary.

4. Cruising down the coast, peering over a sheer cliff at the beastly, open Atlantic thrashing down below. 

5. Getting to Peniche, a Portuguese surf town, just in time to see a thunderstorm roll on with the waves and taking a cool pic like this...













6. Arriving to Oporto while having a blast getting lost. Having a late night dinner with the family and owners of a restaurant and trying to understand Portuguese. Eating steak, fish, rice, potatos, salad, bread and wine for 4 people for only 25 euros.

7. Oporto. Cool German girls in the hostel. finally watching City of God. nightlife. meeting a nice portuguese girl.

8. stopping at hot springs on the way home and treating ourselves to an end of the trip spa sesh.

Thanks Mom and Dad for letting me do what I want and be lost in life.

Portugal, you friendly neighbor and finder of new worlds

i'm writing this, in a short space of time that I have in a hostel common room, in order to get the ball rolling again with this elusive blog that slips in and out of my routinely-non-routine life like an eel between a fat man's fingers. These last 3 weeks have been full of travel: a trip to reunite with my old pal, James, in Barcelona, to a small town in Galicia for a wine festival with my roommates, and now finally on a 6 day road trip along the coast of Portugal. And the curtain lifts...

Barcelona

My first visit to one of Spain's premiere cities; it left me almost as content as a plate of curry, naan bread and a mango lassie. I went because James was going to be there and we thought that it would be cool to meet in Europe. He was going to visit his cousin, who is studying in BCL, and wanted to know if I felt like crashing on the couch for the weekend. I bought the ticket and arrived at 5 p.m. on Friday. * a note on food: you can eat a big sandwich of spanish tortilla, which is basically an egg pie infused with lightly fried potatoes, for 2.70. You can then add pork tenderloins to it for only .30cents more. bomb.* That's what I ate for lunch. bomb. The airport in Barcelona conveniently has a train that takes you to directly to the city center for only 3 euros, and so I hopped on that bad boy and stepped out of the metro to the bustling streets of Barcelona only to be greeted with La Pedrera, on of Gaudi's many architectural gifts to the city. I passed this building that seemingly melts into the street on my way to meet James in the main plaza of the city. I was unaware and pleasantly surprised to learn that his mom, 2 aunts, and cousin Jack were also staying with him. They were extremely nice and i passed a luxurious weekend in a loft-style apartment in that same plaza in the middle of the city. I couldn't have asked for a better dose of random good luck. Thank you James and Co. once again.

The city itself is magical. It's cosmopolitan and you can hear any number of languages walking down the main tourist drag through the old part of town. This is where the hustle and bustle is, where pick-pockets and prostitutes thrive and immigrants from Pakistan sell 6-packs out of plastic bags until 5 in the morning. bomb.

I was approached my first night by a pretty, kind-looking african lady that asked me for the time. I was congenially reaching in to check my phone when she subtly whispered her elegantly-worded proposition to me: "Can I suck your dick?" I was taken aback and quite amused by this unexpected turn of events, and found myself laughing with my phone still in my hand. She looked offended that I found humor in this friendly exchange and so I apologized and thanked her for the kind offer. Some would call me a gentleman, but i would say a naive country boy form Lafayette, although it reminded of a certain similar happening outside of a Popeye's in Grand Coteau.

To sum things up: James and I had a good time catching up on old memories and chatting about new events in our lives. We had some nice meals with his family and the two of us went on Saturday and met some nice people. An acquaintance of mine, Cynthia, from the Y met us that night as well and we stayed out talking to locals in the plaza until about 6 a.m. Refreshing to be in a big city again, although I do enjoy the small town atmosphere of La Coru~a. I spent the rest of my time traversing the city by foot and gazing at the many architectural jewels that one man took upon himself to bestow upon his hometown, thus single-handedly transforming it into a tourist attraction. I'm excited to return there in July with Mike and Danaya, and to delve deeper into the city.

La Feria de Vino