Graham Ozboy

Last day in Portugal, mofos. Very sad day, but also hard to believe it was a week ago that we met Shiva in that little bakery in Ericeira, and became friends 4 life. We had another day of sleeping in, not because we are lazy but because we were waiting for our special guest appearance from LJ. She arrived a bit later than I had expected (because she took a bus and not a cab - I wasn't sure she even knew what a bus was, so joke's on me), which afforded Girl and I the chance to do a market run for toilet paper (these girls know how to clear a colon) and breakfast. It never ceases to amuse me how confusing Europeans find the notion of getting items to go. I'm not saying its a bad thing, just a thing.

Once LJ arrived, and everyone could stop clinching their butt cheeks (because we had tp again, not because we were excited), our first stop was an LP recommended lunch spot where we could get a suckling pig sandwich. Practically every place you pass in our hood has a whole roasted pig in the window, smiling at you and begging to be enjoyed. I would not let that pig die in vain. We all got one, and it was split down the middle whether we liked or not. I thought it was awesome, even thru occasional encounters with an odd crunch.

From he we made our way to Placa do Comercio to catch the tram to Belem, a neighborhood/suburb of the city with a few sights to behold. Much like the rest of Europe, they use an honor system for people to pay - you board the vehicle and then it's up to you to validate your ticket for the trip. We are not honorable girls. Though we spent about an hour in the Belem tower, the most entertaining part was the possibly blind Portuguese man we asked to take the picture of our pyramid outside of it after (to come). Further down the water is a monument to discovery, featuring all of Portugal's baddest explorers, including Vasco de Gama (bam!). And then finally, the Geronimo Monastery, from which a newly married couple emerged, something I though was awesome (They're coming!!") and no one else seemed interested in bests their amusement with me.

Before heading back to the city we went to the home of Pasteis de Belem, called Pasteis de Nata in the rest of the country. These were more like cheesecakes than what we had in Sintra, And again, super tasty. We illicitly rode the tram back to the city center (whilst standing next to three cops writing people tickets for not having tickets - we fought the law and we won), and found a nice outdoor cafe near the castle to enjoy some sangria and vino verde on a boiling hot day. Though the menu was in Portuguese, one thing that wasn't was "happy hour." hey girl.

We bounced up to another awesome spot after this for some more wine where a dj was playing an awesome mix of 80s and Motown tunes. Sadly, no Beyonce but still, nice to just hear some plain old music for a change, not a mash up or dance mix.

The plan for dinner was to hear fado somewhere. We made a reservation at a spot we had gotten a flier for and enjoyed some wine, port and Doritos before heading out. We still arrived too early so the proprietor escorted us down the street to a hot spot for us to grab a drink. When we walked in the five hottest portugals in all of Portugal walked in the bartender exclaimed "shots of tequila on me!" If there is one thing we are good at, it's owning bars. A group of older Japanese tourists found us completely hilarious (obvi) and we danced salsa and drank until time to for our reservation.

This was the point when I decided I didn't give a F about seeing fado -- we were having a blast, why go listen to sad soulful singing and suck the life out of us. We got back to the restaurant which was basically the Hard Rock Cafe of BA fado joints. I had a hot flash. Too much money and not enough fun. After some kicking and screaming we left and wandered (exactly what we hadn't wanted to do) to find another place, which thankfully we found shortly thereafter. In the end I'm glad we saw some fado, because it was kind of amazing (we saw a pro and then two young kids doin there thing). B liked it too. But by the time it was done we had gone from high energy drunks to grumpy tired drinks. We needed to be saved, and there was only one solution: Bali dance party.

So we returned to the scene of the crime from our first night, and destroyed the dance floor yet again. People were staring, not because they were embarrassed for us but because they were jealous. DJ still refused to play B or Carly Rae, but there were enough top hits to satisfy this crew of Americanos. It was a rocky road to start, but in the end a kick ass way to end an amazing trip to this little country. As I sat in the Madrid airport for ten hours on Sunday, there was never a moment when I thought to myself "meh, wish we had left early to get more than 2 hours of sleep."