Costa da Caparica

 

Once again, moving day had arrived.  I would have stayed longer in that apartment in Cascais, but it wasn't available.  Besides, I figured it was time to see more of the city.  Though I wish I had moved the day before since the morning started off cloudy and gray.  Despite having great weather the rest of the week, a light drizzle began just as I was leaving the apartment.  Great.

Grabbing an Uber, I traveled across the bridge from Belem to what I thought was Setubal but alas, no.  The apartment I chose was a bit farther from Setubal than I thought it was, being located in the city of Costa da Caparica.  Totally my bad, but I had to make it work ...

Once I got to the right place.  The driver dropped me off in front of a pizza joint as the GPS couldn’t get him to the exact address (an issue I’ve encountered more than once in Portugal).  I figured the apartment was just across the street but alas, no.  I contacted the host to let them know my location.  The response I got back was ‘see you soon.’  Not sure if that meant I should go to them or they would come to me, I decided to start walking.  Better to walk in the rain than stand in the rain (learned that lesson in Bulgaria).

Why do I have so much stuff?  Seriously, what is all this stuff?  I dragged all my crap down the sidewalk in what I hoped was the right direction (again, GPS is wonky in this country).  About five minutes later, a car stopped across the street and the driver stared at me.  Turns out, the hosts, a husband and wife, had jumped in the whip to come get me.  Beyond grateful, I waited for them to turn around and then hauled my damp behind into their car.

The couple didn’t speak much English (AirBNB has a handy translation mode on their messaging system), but we managed to communicate just fine.  The apartment set up was on the first floor (convenient for the bags) but located behind a door that would plague me for the rest of the week.  I don’t know if the weather made it stick or not, but it usually took a bout of hulk-like strength just to get that bad boy open.  I hated that door.

The apartment was nice enough if a bit cold.  The décor, not the temperature.  Too much white on the floors, the kitchen, the bathroom.  It made the place feel like a hospital.  Not my favorite.

The hosts, though, were top tier.  Not only did they show me how everything worked in the place, but they had also amassed a ton of brochures about attractions, a card for a private driver who lived nearby, a list of recommended restaurants, a map of the area on the wall marking the grocery store and other vital places, and a schedule of busses along with directions on where to catch them.  Very thorough and not something you get with every home.  Making sure I had the wife’s number on WhatsApp, they left me to it.

Once situated, I went off to explore.  The rain had finally slacked off enough, though the sky was still gray.  Honestly, there wasn’t much to see there.  The apartment is in another maze of buildings with some restaurants and businesses scattered around.  There’s a huge camping site across the street near a decent sized park.  Though I found the small grocery store, I was still surprised.  There wasn’t even a Pingo Doce in walking distance.  What?  That store is everywhere.  At least, it will be everywhere I stay from now on.

The small mom and pop store did at least carry my wine.  And, at 3.69 euros as opposed to 4.19 in greater Lisbon, it was a bargain.  Sweet.

While there wasn’t much to see on foot, the beaches were still the main draw of this area.  Me being me, I made a beeline for the water.  The nearest easy access point was about a mile away and the route wasn't nearly as scenic as in Cascais.  A long walk, but worth it in the end.

The ocean in this area was pretty epic.  The winds are high there so the waves can be massive (not Hawaii massive, but still).  It was very moody with the gray skies.  I kept hearing U2’s New Years Day when I looked at it.  The video for that song was taped in the winter with no water in sight, but the gray scale of the video reminded me of the waves.

There is a nice boardwalk area dotted with the usual restaurants and surf shops.  The beaches are broken up by rocky outcroppings.  Those were a bit sketchy to walk on in the middle of the high waves, but still made for some great shots.

With nothing else to do, my routine stayed the same.  Job search in the morning (still sucks), walking to the water for lunch and exercise, then back to the apartment for study and as much writing as I could get done.  The rain was intermittent all week, making it easier to stay inside and focus. 

On one of my daily explorations, I walked along a stretch of beach that was covered in washed up jellyfish.  Fascinated, I took as many pictures as I could.  I probably looked like a madwoman, but … wouldn’t be the first time.

Foods of Many Nations

 

This is a restaurant in Singapore.  I didn’t eat there but had to take a picture because … yeah.  I figured it was a good image to start off this post about my food experiences of the past year.  In no particular order …

This is the weirdest mojito I’ve ever seen.  It was more like an alcoholic mint slushie.  I had it in a funky café in San Jose that had live music and was decorated with stuffed animals and a jungle theme.  The drink wasn't too bad if I recall correctly.

Near the Sacavem apartment in Lisbon, I sat down at what I thought was a steak restaurant.  Turns out I was one row away from that place.  I was instead seated at a sushi place.  Raw fish is not my food of choice, but I was already there so I ordered the sample platter and took my chances.  It was ... interesting.

It was always hard to find something to eat in Singapore.  Not because there weren’t plenty of restaurants, there were actually too many.  It was hard to choose, especially when most of the items on the menu were alien to me. I stumbled into this one place where they serve traditional Chinese dumplings.  The chefs even yell their greetings when you enter.  Never been in a restaurant where they do that and it was pretty cool.

The meal was good, though I was not feeling that pumpkin patty dessert.

The Portuguese do strange things with steak.  Not bad things, just … strange things.  This is bitoque, a traditional Portuguese dish that you can find everywhere.

I still don’t know what the fried egg adds to the dish, but it is my go-to meal when I don’t want pizza, fish, or a burger.  I’ve also had it swimming in sauce. 

See what I mean?  Strange things.

Türkiye was big with the kebabs.  You could find them everywhere.  Also big there are pides which are like a variation on pizza except shaped like a long wrap. 

I ate at a restaurant in Türkiye that served only pilaf dishes.  The base was always rice and chickpeas and then you could order other stuff on it like various meats and vegetables (I had chicken on mine).  A simple, cheap, filling meal you can also get anywhere.

This dining experience was particularly memorable.  I was seated outside and this cat parked himself by my chair.  I was more than accustomed to being stared at by stray beasts as I ate, but this creature upped the ante by repeatedly poking me in the butt.  With its claws, no less!  Being the crazy cat lady that I am, I did not feed him.  I tried to reason with him.  I explained that there was food all over the city and he wasn’t getting a scrap from me, so beat it.  He eventually got the hint and went to poke other customers in the butt (dang varmint). 

Behold the lethal concoction I’ve dubbed The Devil’s Lemonade.  Not exactly an accurate nickname considering that it’s made of cachaca, limes, and sugar.  A better name for a caipirinha is Houdini’s Limeade as these suckers disappear way too easily.  My first taste of one was in Lisbon back in March and it has become my mixed drink of choice.  It’s served all over Europe and is a lot easier to find than most other mixed drinks.  It’s either this, wine, or straight up hard liquor.

Breakfast in most of the places I’ve been to are usually simple meals.  Coffee and a pastry do it for most people.  The notable exceptions to this rule are Dublin with its full Irish breakfast (including a half pint of Guiness) and, of course, the epic deliciousness of Turkish breakfast.  The first one I had was still the best, but I did try a few other variations that weren’t too shabby.

Below is a sample of the famously odd flavors of snacks available in Asia.  Pictures only -- I wasn't bold enough or hungry enough to try any of them.

And one snack from Greece that I did purchase and they were absolutely delicious.

Still Treading the Icy Waters of Cascais

 

...  and dreading the day I have to leave.  Although leaving my current apartment … yeah.  I’m ready to do that.  All the free beer and snacks in the world won’t make up for dealing with that smell.  And the bump on my head still hurts.

I arranged for a new place early in the week.  Because I like the area, I looked for a place nearby.  It was so nearby, in fact, that I walked my way-too-much stuff across a few streets and arrived at the new place in about 15 minutes.

This was another nice place.  I love the layout.  A decent sized bedroom for Europe with one of two balconies off it.  The other balcony was off the living room but couldn’t be opened because the handle had broken off. It could use a microwave, some A/C or at least a fan in the bedroom, and a clothesline but otherwise it was a spacious place to squat for a week.  And hey, we’re back to the electric blinds so that’s a plus.

The place was a bit noisy with the screaming kid downstairs and my next-door neighbor who insisted on talking on the phone with her front door open (why?). The decorations in front of her apartment let me know that they do celebrate Halloween in Portugal.  I always thought of it as an American/Irish holiday, but there was a shop selling spooky stuff in Cascais so there you go.

The job search continues and is still pretty demoralizing.  I’m either highly underqualified for everything or the job requires me to live in the states.  It’s getting cooler here in Portugal and I’m starting to consider my next move for the end of November when my Schengen days run out.  Kinda depressing.  I would have loved to be in my new place come winter, but that ain’t happening without a bank account and I can’t get a bank account without having a job.  Sigh.

In slightly better news, I’m also attempting to jump-start my freelance writing career.  I discovered a site called Medium where writers can post anything they like.  After getting 100 followers, writers can put their work behind a paywall and actually get paid.  Not only that, but I can use those articles (along with this blog) as an online portfolio to show potential clients.  I have no idea how this will go, but it’s a start and gives me motivation to write more consistently.

I’ve completed a course on SEO (search engine optimization) on Coursera.  My next course will be the Google Data Analytics Certification.  Data analysis is supposed to be the next big thing so I figured I’d give it a try.  Ideally, I could get an analyst job while still working on the freelancing and try to get those multiple streams of income I’ve been hearing so much about.

And a blast from the past.  I was sitting at my computer and my phone rang.  Scared the crap out of me.  I picked it up thinking it was my stepmom, but … no.  It was Zaza.  I gaped at the phone.  It had been a month since our last text and I could not believe he was calling me.  I declined the call while laughing maniacally.  I just … I don’t even know anymore.

Turns out there’s a name for this behavior too.  In talking about narcissists, this out-of-the blue contact is called hoovering.  The narc has been discarded and is trying to suck the victim back in.  Yeah.  Really not interested.  I wish him no ill will but have no desire to get involved with his problems again.

There’s always something going on in Cascais; weekdays, weekends, doesn’t matter. Mostly, there are pop-up markets selling souvenirs and handy crafts.  There’s also the occasional food truck with tables set out in a parking lot.  On Saturday, while taking my daily walk by the shore, I stumbled across a car show.  Porches as far as the eye could see along with crowds waiting to take pictures of people zooming off for a test drive (I assume they were test drives and not purchases, but it was hard to tell).

I had lunch one day in a café by the sea that I had visited during my last trip to Cascais.  One of the waitresses actually remembered my visit.  Her name was Angelina, and she sparked a conversation about my t-shirt.  I was wearing the one I got from the Hard Rock in Phuket and she mentioned how she’d also been to the island.  I told her how I was scoping Thailand out as a new home and she mirrored my thoughts that it was a nice place to visit but not to live.  I told her about my travels and how, of all the countries I’ve been to, Portugal is where I feel most at home.  She agreed and noted the chill atmosphere of the people.  This woman had never been to the states, yet she still knew what a ‘Karen’ was, saying they don’t get many of those women in Portugal.  It reminded me of Lamin, the Gambian native I met who had also never been to the states yet still knew about the gun violence.

And this is the view other countries have of the U.S.  It’s a wonder the country has any international visitors at all at this point.  With its reputation, visitors traveling to the states must feel like they're dropping into a Mad Max movie.

A Deeper Dive into Cascais

 

And it’s another glorious day in Zamunda – I mean Portugal. (10 points if you get that reference)

Seriously though, the weather for the month of September (except for a couple of days) was amazing.  Temps in the mid 80’s to low 90’s and lots of sun.  It made my afternoon walks all the more enjoyable.  

My week in Parede came to an end and it was time to move from one AirBNB to another.  Since I liked the area, I decided to stay there rather than go up to Porto (which I still need to do at some point).  The next place is just up the coast from Parede in the city of Cascais – yes, the city I visited a few weeks ago.  After a short Uber ride, I was dropped off at my new home for the week.

Oh.  Where do I even start with this place?  I know.  The smell.  As soon as I opened the door, I knew this place was gonna be a pain. The stench from the bathroom reminded me too much of the place in Athens.  And just like that place, you can’t put toilet paper in the toilet because the system is old and can’t handle it.  Great.

On top of that, the faucet in the cramped bathroom was very difficult to lift.  Until, of course, the handle flew off in my hand.  Putting it back in place, I could still get the water to come out, but most of the time I didn’t even bother and just washed my hands in the kitchen sink.

And about that kitchen.  I was glad to see there was an oven and the induction cooktop was one of the rare ones that I could actually figure out. But the placement of the cabinets and the water heater left much to be desired.  I had to keep watching my head while doing the dishes so I didn’t hit the water heater.  I did bump my head on the awkwardly placed cabinet by the window when I was throwing out trash.  Left a nice bump, thank you very much.

The place made me wish I'd stayed in the last place.  I would have happily extended my stay if it weren’t booked up. Even the blinds were better in the last place.  These have to be raised manually (well, I never!).

The building is in a maze of other apartment buildings.  There were some small businesses sprinkled around the area and a small grocery store across the street.  It was more of a hoof to get to a larger grocery store and the more commercial area of Cascais.  There are the usual shops and restaurants in the main area as well as access to the beaches.

With the weather being as nice as it was, the beaches were always busy. I spent a least a couple of hours there every day soaking up the sun.  And, oh yeah.  Watching sweaty, half-naked, bronzed, Portuguese men playing volleyball without using their hands.  Nice. 

Have I mentioned lately that I freaking love this country?

There’s a marina a bit further up the coast with its own set of shops and restaurants.  On the way there is a gorgeous swimming spot.  There were even some brave souls who would jump from the rocks along the walking bridge into the water.

Have I also mentioned just how many beautiful black people there are here?  It’s been my habit to take note of the number of black folk in the countries I’ve visited this year.  Portugal takes the cake.  It’s not just the African immigrants in Lisbon proper, but the people working the restaurants, the groups of kids walking home from school, the interracial couples and their gorgeous mixed-race kids.  When I mentioned being a solo black female traveler to my relocation specialist, she looked at me like I had just insulted her mother.  Lowering her voice, she said, “We don’t really say that.”  I asked what she was talking about.  She explained that in Portugal ‘black woman’ is not really a distinction that they make.  I know, I nodded, that’s one of the reasons I want to move here.

When I talk to someone in a store or on the street, they automatically assume I speak Portuguese because they have no reason to think otherwise. It's starting to bother me that I have to say this phrase on repeat; 'Eu nao falo portugues' (I don't speak Portuguese).  There are black hair care products in the stores (not the same brands or variety in the states, but still).  There is a level of acceptance of not only black folks but of tourists of all nations that I truly admire.  All the more reason for me to want to be a super cool Portuguese chick.

Parede

 

Another week, another AirBNB stay in Lisbon.

As much as I’d like to head to Madeira and start the apartment search in earnest, I’m hesitating for multiple reasons. 1. I want to be in Lisbon near the migration office in case they need something.  2. I don’t look forward to dealing with another plane ride, even a short one.  I’m enjoying the break from security searches and having to throw away perfectly good items to lighten my load. 3. The less time I spend on travel, the more time devoted to the job search.

And it is pretty soul-crushing.  I got through a couple of rounds of tests for a copywriter position that I really wanted, then my writing sample got rejected.  With over 13,000 applicants, not only could the company afford to be picky, but they didn’t even have time to offer me any feedback.  So, I’m left to stew in my disappointment while racking my brain to figure out what I did wrong and how to improve it.  Oh, the glamorous life of a writer.

Since the transition from happy wanderer to unemployable loser has been a sobering one, I’m thrilled to find that most cafes serve excellent caipirinhas.  No, it’s not like I’m getting drunk every day.  But after looking for jobs in the morning (and the subsequent depression), I look forward to my walk, my lunch, and my drank.

This practice continued in the new apartment that I chose specifically because it is near the beach.  Parede is located further up the coast from Lisbon, just south of Cascais.  A bit of a drive from my last place in Sacavem in the north, but well worth it.

I had to wait a while when I got to the place as the host’s assistant was late getting there.  But once the surfer-looking Claudio showed up, he got me inside the apartment and showed me around.  This is a nicely laid out spot with a decent sized kitchen and bathroom.  I was impressed.

Then Claudio showed me something that would be a source of amusement for the rest of the week.  All the buildings in the area are equipped with electric blinds.  With a flip of a switch, you can plunge a sunny room into complete darkness.  It was so dark in the bedroom at night that I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face.  I took this picture to show the difference between the bedroom on the left and the cavernous void that is the kitchen on the right.  This was at 8 a.m.

The blinds also made the place soundproof.  Lying in the bedroom at night would have felt like a sensory deprivation chamber if not for the sound of the oscillating fan.  The only sound coming through the walls was in the bathroom.

A last note about that bathroom.  While I wasn’t crazy about the tiny shower with no shelf for product, or its close proximity to the toilet, this faucet is the hotness.  Kinda drippy if you don’t jigger the handle properly, but still, that is a sexy faucet.

Within a short walking distance is the beautiful coastline.  Most of the area is made up of rocky cliffs, but in between the rocks are sandy areas of various sizes.  The weather was hot and sunny, even in late September, so all but the tiniest beaches are covered with people. 

The coast is lined with surf schools, one of which even posts a sign offering classes all year round.  There were surfers everywhere, on the shore teaching classes, running past the cafes to get to the water, bobbing along in the waves.  Can’t say I blame them.  The water is gorgeous. 

I ventured to get my feet wet one day, but hesitated when my I took my shoes off.  The sand was way too cold.  I soon found out why when the surf came in.  That water is freezing!  Why?  The temps hovered around 85 degrees every day.  It’s September – you’d think the water would have warmed over the summer.  But nope. 

And yet the surfers (in body suits, admittedly) still clamored for the sea.  I’ll stick to just staring at the waves, thank you very much.  In doing that, I could see multiple jellyfish floating around.  I found one washed up on the beach that was the size of my head, confirming my notion that the ocean was best enjoyed from far inland.  I’ve already been stung once this summer.  Not looking for a repeat.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; the Portuguese are a hardy people. Like the last apartment, my new one has no air conditioning, just fans.  Couple the warm living quarters with being willing to dive into frigid water, and these folks are a lot more tolerant of extremes than I am. Even after sweating profusely throughout every day, I have no interest in jumping into an ice bath filled with jellyfish.