We´ve only gone out twice on our Portugal trip. Once, in Lagos, the party town, with folks from the hostel. The night started out with JJ kicking Brian Of The Hostel´s ass at Connect Four:
and me losing miserably at “Coloured Wooden Tower” (not to be confused with Jenga, which is only one colour I guess):
We hit a number of bars with a number of drink specials, and were amused at the last one by a hostel mate who can apparently dance like a robot while completely passed out. We have pictures.
J became incensed at one point, when after demonstrating how barrel racing works using three beer glasses, Hostel Brian said “That´s it?”.
Last night, in Lisbon, we met up with some people that had been with us in Lagos, and had planned to go to the Bairro Alto, a neighbourhood with a ton of night clubs. However Lisa Who Speaks Five Languages (including Portuguese) had found out about a student party going on elsewhere, and we decided to check that out. A very long cab ride later we found ourselves at an outdoor concert where students frolicked around in long black robes, and the main attraction was a rap group called “Da Weasel”. They were pretty good, these weasel fellows.
(We both behaved on these outings, mom. Don´t worry.)
Today is our last day in Portugal already. It rained and rained and rained.
We had planned to go on a mission to find the perfect custard tart (delicious little Portuguese treats they are), but after walking up and down slippery cobbled streets for hours and taking refuge in cafes during the worst parts, we were too tired to complete our mission.
I´m growing fond of Lisbon. Any place is overwhelming when you first arrive, especially when you don´t speak the language, but after roaming the streets for awhile and becoming comfortable with certain parts, knowing where you´re going without having to check the map, it makes you want to come back in the future, again and again.