The Tales of Lisbon Continue

Up until the first week in Lisbon, I had retained contact with Zaza.  Things were going well for a while, but then he started asking me for money again.  One day I’d finally had enough.  I told him that I was looking for a fun, sexy fling, not stress and pressure.  He accused me of only wanting him for sex (this coming from the man who came on to me the day we met).  I wished him good luck and ended the interaction.  I didn’t block him this time – didn’t have to.  We were just done.  I archived the chat stream and haven’t looked at it since.

Once I ended it, I felt like a great weight had lifted off my shoulders.  Suddenly, I was compelled to go back to some of my go-to YouTube channels about narcissism.  About a week after dropping him, an interesting video about the texting habits of narcissists drew my attention and … wow.  Once again, a complete stranger described everything I’d just experienced with this man.  Constant texts followed by sudden, unannounced disappearances, sexting, sending numerous selfies – all present and all designed to keep the narcissist front and center in the target’s mind. 

Yep, my knack for attracting vampires continues.  Not happy that I caught another one, but I am actually grateful for the experience.  We did have some fun during the love-bombing phase, especially while I was in Costa Rica and in a bad head space.  I’m very glad I got out before it went any further.  Now I can focus on my own needs without distraction.  And I now know this new aspect of narcissism (and text habits) that I have to be vigilant of in the future.

Still a shame, though.  I had tentatively planned to go back to Istanbul in October.  I was looking forward to it, but now ...

Attracting the wrong people like I do, it’s often hard to spot the good from the bad.  Where’s the line between someone sharing their story as a means of getting to know me and someone spewing their emotional garbage onto the nearest nice person they see?  I’m 52 years old and I still haven’t figured out that distinction.

My next challenge came when I was in between AirBNBs.  I had to get out of the current one (I wanted to stay but it was booked up) by noon, but the next place wasn’t ready until 3.  I ended up hanging out in the park area behind the building.  Maybe not the prettiest park, as there was little in the way of green grass, but the trails were extensive and accessible from all the buildings in the area.  A kid walked by me and said hello.  I greeted him, barely looking up from my book, then he struck up a conversation.  His name is Lamin and he is a 21-year-old refugee from Gambia.  He told me about leaving his abusive dad at the age of 13 and trekking through Africa until he reached Italy.  He lived there for three years (and wants to go back) and has been in Lisbon for the last six months. He gave me some tips about Lisbon, gave me a hug, and went off to meet some friends.

I’m still not sure why he stopped to talk to me.  Was it because I was an older black woman, an elder who needed to be respected because of his culture?  Was he coming on to me (that was unlikely, but after Zaza …)?  Or was it the ‘I attract vampires’ thing and he wanted to vomit all his feelings onto me?  Unknown.

(He could have just been a nice kid who wanted to make a connection.  Again, I can't be sure.)

Anyway, it was on to the next place and … yeah.  This place was a dump.  It made the place I had in Singapore look good -- at least that hotel had an elevator.  This place is located up four floors of rickety wooden stairs, behind two narrow doors that buzz loudly when you press in the code.  It had clearly once been one big apartment that had been broken up into 7 smaller rooms off a long hall.

The bureau wobbled, the bathroom was too narrow and difficult to navigate, and, other than the bed, there was nowhere to sit.  The communal kitchen featured the only sitting area as well as a washer and dryer that I couldn’t use because they were always busy.  I hated the place on the spot.

Price, availability, and location.  This was what was around at the time, so it would have to do.  The one benefit to the place was that it was close to the building for my relocation appointment. 

On Tuesday, 9/12/23, I met Gilda, the CEO of Assessoria Migratoria.  I had arrived early out of extreme nervousness and we sat down in a closed conference room for the meeting.  It was brutal.  She stared at me like a bug under a microscope, thinking over every answer I had to her questions.  I told her about getting laid off and how I had been on sabbatical since January.  She was less interested in my journey or the money I had in reserve as she was the fact that I was an unemployed foreigner looking to live in her country.  But after an hour, she told me not to be nervous.  She hadn’t given up on anyone yet.  She set me off to find a job, collected my fee, and prepared to apply for my N.I.F (Portuguese tax ID).

Getting out of vacation mode and back to being a responsible adult was not easy.  It didn’t help that I hated that room so much.  Every morning, instead of getting right into job-search mode, I would get dressed as quickly as possible just to get out of there.  I wandered the city most days, feeling like I was haunting the place.  One day, on a whim, I decided to take the Metro to Oriente station as suggested by Lamin. 

Once again, the benefits of a well-laid out city are clear to me.  This station dumps right into a mall.  I initially thought it was just a few stores, but when I got further in, I realized that the place (named after Vasco De Gama) is huge.  Three floors of living mall with a big Continente grocery store on the lowest floor.  Going through the mall leads to a courtyard area with restaurants, sculptures, and flags.

And then there’s the ocean.  I am still stunned that these incredible views are available to so many people every day.  I’m accustomed to big cities being a massive grid of roads dotted with glass and steel buildings.  I was just happy that the Atlanta area had trees to break up the man-made landscape. But this is so much better.  There are miles of trails through a park area as well as right by the water with plenty of places to sit and hang out.

I mentioned earlier about being happy to be out of the states again.  Being back in Portugal is joyous enough, but there was plenty of motivation to leave my home country.  While I was in Georgia, there was news of a racially motivated massacre and the separate killing of an unarmed pregnant black woman by a cop.  I was only in the country for a few days.  The U.S. is just too dangerous to live in.  Blaxit (meaning black exit and modeled after Britain’s Brexit) is real and should continue.  I just hope my visa comes through so I can stay in Portugal.