When Life Gives You Lisbons

"Hello, I checked in back in Seattle, and they told me I'd need to collect my boarding pass from you here."

They are not ready yet. Come back in two hours.

"The flight leaves in two hours, so I'll just come here and get the pass then?"

Yes. Yes. Go sit now.

"Hello, It's been two hours, and I'd like to board the plane."

Where is your boarding pass?

"Two hours ago, you told me to come back now for it."

No, no. No boarding pass, you cannot get on. The flight is full. Very full. No seats.

"But I have a ticket."

You have no boarding pass, so we gave your ticket away.

"When is the next flight?"

Monday.

"Monday! There is no flight tomorrow? Or Sunday?"

Fight tomorrow is full. Sunday is full.

"Can I get on standby?"

There is no standby. We don't have standby.

"Then how did you give my ticket away?"

What?

"If you don't do standby, how did someone else get my ticket for this plane? You said you gave it away."

Yes. Because you didn't have a boarding pass.

So, through some species of misunderstanding, I was unable to get to Morocco. The people with the TAP airline were angry in the way people are when they know something is their fault. I didn't lose my temper with them or complain. I just asked what my options were, and they were all, "You can fuck off."

Plenty of blame to go around, I suppose, but when life give you Lisbons, you make a day of it in a world-class world-capital.

Found a cheap room, figured out the Metro system (brief screw-up where I read Olaias when it was really Olivias) and metroed my way to a cute little place where the Eastern European girlfriend of the owner let me in with a comical giant metal key from Bluebeard's ring.

Fooled around with some customer service pages, but there's nothing for it. I'm going to have to train my way to the desert slowly over a week or so.

Took a hot shower, took a long nap. Woke up at sunset and took a walk around. Marvelous patchwork tile covers everything like an architectural skin condition. It's glorious. Giant colorful buildings. Gorgeous public works of art. Thick sea breeze.

Lisbon is what people want Miami to be.

Soccer in parks. Picnics. Kissing by enormous fountains. Everyone's limbs laced in someone else's. Young lovers laughing, old lovers walking. Ruined old women selling bruised fruit. Toddlers wearing Ronaldo jerseys.

Time and chance got me on the right road to The Alfama, and as it got dark, I marbled down the beautifully tiled sidewalks past shuttered shops and the flickering candles from outdoor cafes. They were just being shuttered and just being lit.

Spotted a cool street-art installation of fake tile made to look like bombs, knives, and guns entangled with blue flowers. It blended pretty well in with the real stuff, but my wise winking heron's eye spotted it.

The street opened into a large marble plaza with live music and wild children. I followed it to a Night Market for ham sandwiches and ham products and ham. Had an unforgettable serrano sandwich with some sort of heavenly salty creamy cheese. It was like angel's semen.

Everyone I saw had wine in plastic cups. I bought a tin of fish.

"It is in oil. And when you eat, uh, the fish, you must also eat the oil. It, ah, cannot be avoided."

Opted to make a night of it so I can come back super fresh super early in the morning. Trained back (the Metro is clean, fast, and comprehensive), found my way back home and started working out the new calculus of the trip. 

Looks like here again tomorrow. Something called Faro on the South Coast on Sunday. Seville on Monday, and then.... the Rock of Gibraltar?  It will soon be told! 

Portuguese pivot!!