I'm sorry. My mother seems to have grown this, and I feel compelled to post it. hahahaha.
It's Saturday. Give me a break.
It's a radish.
After Tawzeeto's challenge:
October 30, 2004
Where's Esther Rantzen when you need her?
Tell me it IS true!
Can Madge and I stop PLAYING at trains? Can we believe the news we heard that our railway station (5 minutes away, rather than 20) will be opening next week? (This is the long awaited link between Lisbon and Setúbal...supposed to open in: January, May, August then finally September of this year)
Gosh, if it's true it will really change things around here; one downside may be that house prices may go up from here to Setúbal. But the upsides are numerous... keeping a few more cars off the road, easier commuting from the Setúbal Peninsular to Lisbon........but MUCH MUCH more important; it will be much easier for ME to spend MORE time in Lisbon, hanging out, watching Lisboetas, savouring the atmosphere... SO I CAN THE PISS OUT OF MORE LISBOETAS MORE OF THE TIME!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
October 29, 2004
This is a TRUE story...
well, sort of.
For this train ticket office queue please feel free to substitute a queue at the bank, Multibanco/ATM, at the tax office, well, virtually anywhere really, as long as it's in Portugal.
October 27, 2004
Setúbal People 1
Another in my stereotypes series of people...
Setúbal people and Lisbon people ARE very different... though there's only 40 km (ish) between them.
coooo! I'm so good at passing milestones... hey, do you realize that this is the 153rd post in this blog? with the 154th (approx.) drawing? and the 6th month has been and gone... blimey!
October 25, 2004
Big FREAKING Bugs!
I didn't used to have any feelings about bugs and lizards. That's because I lived in Britain until I was 29 and only a big sissy can get really worried about wildlife in Britain.
Then I moved to Portugal and acquired BUGophobia, for no other reason than the little bastards aren't quite that little here. There are so many MORE bugs and lizards here, as well as their being bigger.
Praying mantises/Louvadeuses crawling all over the garden walls....
little lizardy things....
foot-long black and yellow salamanders hiding in the grass...
freaking enormous earwig things that try to look threatening by lifting up their antler/claw thingies....
and WORST of all OSGAS hiding, pooping and stinking in the gas cupboard, hanging upside down from the ceiling with their strange sticky foot pads... if you've ever read my old blog, which I'm not going to dredge up now, you'll know how I feel about geckos/OSGAS.... ooh I'm all creeped out just typing that... eugh. AND I've even had a snake in my kitchen... I never knew how I felt about snakes until that day. I now know that I most unreservedly do NOT like snakes. (God, I'm so pissed off that reading this back I sound like one of those dreadful townies who scream at the sight of anything alive, even if it's a cow... believe me, I'm not that bad... REALLY)
So, just imagine how I felt the other day when, having just got over the trial of having locked me and the kids between the house and the main gate without being able to get in the house or out of the gate, I found a great big two inch CRICKET/CIGARRA up my sleeve! A shirt has never been ripped off quite so fast in the history of clothes-wearing. eueueeueugh!
And THEN last night a huge, beautiful grasshopper lands on my kitchen table. (Actually, he didn't creep me out so badly, cos he was so pretty.. logical I'm not).
Bugs... stay out of my face... and my clothes... please.
October 24, 2004
Not jaywalking, but near as dammit
"Snails aren't THAT big... not even in Azeitão!" I hear you cry unbelievingly at your computer screen. (Well, SOME are, but that's beside the point... eugh, imagine the slime trail of a snail that big)... no... this is a graphical representation of a Portuguese phenomenon known as the this-is-MY-road-even-if-I-AM-on-the-pedestrian-crossing-so-you-can-just-go -and-suck-on-rocks-you-w*r syndrome. It is a phenomenon that occurs daily on every road where cars and pedestrian cross paths...sometimes it occurs on roads where pedestrians ain't supposed to be... have you ever tried walking across a three lane motorway (hey americans, is that a freeway or a highway to you? I can never remember)? Well, I've seen a few suicidal maniac bastards people doing it here.
ANYWAY.. this is how it goes... you are driving along the road and see a pelican crossing (the one with lights), a zebra crossing (the one without lights) or any old bit of road that someone sees fit to cross at, and there is someone waiting to cross the road or is already crossing that road. You stop your car for them to cross. They may have been RUNNING up to that point, or walking in a normal, brisk manner but as soon as they are on that ashphalt they slow right down to a-leisurely-stroll-in-Colombo/Almada Forum/Amoreiras/etc etc etc-on-a-Sunday-afternoon-pace. As soon as they have reached the pavement on the other side, they get back to walking at normal speed if not running again. BASTARDS.
October 22, 2004
Banda Desenhada
For a laugh and to be vaguely-up-to-date, Madge invented some banda
characters of the afixe colaboradores...Monty is challenging his readers to
work out which of the six characters is which... (Madge has also made me a
funky handbag with them on it, cos I liked them so much (Hilda, you'd be
proud of her))
Anyway, go see them at afixe.weblog.com.pt
If you ever see this handbag... it may be me holding it... or I might have
sold it to someone, so don't bash the handbag holder over the head...
ahahhahah ....er .... evil laugh in a pathetic attempt to be mysterious.
Am I too old to do the hoovering while "movin' ma booteh" to The Black Eyed
Peas? Someone tell me "no!". Please.
A break in the space/time continuum
Yesterday, Madge and I stepped through a time portal and found ourself in Bristol, February 2004, IKEA...
ooh, but... are you sure? no, it WAS Alfragide, really, I think. The new IKEA, the first time we've been able to get there since it opened because we've been too busy to go. It was a completely unnerving experience driving into the carpark... to say it was very like every other IKEA in the world is kind of THE HUGEST UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE HIGHEST DEGREE...the only clues we had that we weren't in Bristol/Birmingham/London etc etc etc IKEA were that the signs were all in Portuguese, and since we're so used to seeing pt signs (HA, when they are of much use... HA) we genuinely felt like we had stepped through a hole in the space/time continuum.... shudder.
After about an hour of telling ourself that we were indeed still in Portugal, we began getting used to it, but we were still a little surprised when we left to find ourself on the N117 and not the M5 (if you ain't pt or uk, those are roads)...
But inside, aaaaaaah... just such a comforting feeling... great buckets of cheap things for the house ... sleek swedishy things for me... pretty bright coloured nonsense for Madge (that girl has very odd taste, I'm sure you'll understand that by now)... Madge draw the above picture of me while I was still feeling a bit shell shocked... standing next to a lovely senhora who was saying something to the effect of "what the f*** is this all about? Where's Moviflor?". We had yummy IKEAnense meatballs for lunch (I love those things and the strange gravy on top. YUM) and then followed a young man and his mother as he she picked out things for his new flat... HE: "That's nice, I'm going to get one of those...it'll go nicely in ..." SHE: "Now, THIS IS lovely, darling, see the pretty flowers? THIS will go nicely in the..." hahahahahahaha. Poor bloke. He's going to have a lovely flowery chintzy flat to take his friends and girlfriends back to.
When some American find themselves in the farthest reaches of this planet, England perhaps, or Portugal, they find it comforting to see a McDonalds as a beacon of home, they may not like McDs but to see it is like knowing they're always close to something of home... well, IKEA is that for me. Now I know it's there, I can go occasionally and remind myself of .. er... Sweden.
October 20, 2004
Law breaking in Azeitão
Law breaking in Azeitão? Is she mad? What can she mean?
Let's face it.. there are three kinds of law in Portugal... the big serious ones like: Don't kill people on purpose with a big gun OR don't embezzle funds from your company/council/country if you think you might get caught doing it... well, most people abide by those laws.
Then there are the medium strength laws like: Don't drive your car too fast (but if you've got a really nice car we'll let you go as fast as you like) OR Don't go against building regulations and build monstrosities all over the place thereby wrecking this fair "terra"... about ten percent of the population abide by those laws.
But the laws that are normally UNBREAKABLE by ANYONE are the laws written by the Avós/Grandmothers of this land. (for further discourses on "Portugal Law" click) Laws such as the "Wear shoes/slippers at all time or you'll die" law and the "Don't even THINK about going near a body of water within twenty seven hours of eating a meal or you'll die" law and, of course, the "EAT YOUR SOUP! or you'll get a cold!" law are followed to the letter by the vast majority of the Portuguses people, for fear of crossing their grandmothers.
So, for the last three days I have been rather puzzled. During this storm (which, for various reasons too complicated to elucidate, is preventing me going to mecca ikea and the Ilustração Portuguesa 2004 exhibition, so I'm getting a bit bored of it now, though normally a good storm makes me a happy weather junkie) THERE ARE PEOPLE ON THE STREETS! IN THE RAIN! IN THE WIND! This is blatent contravention of Lei da Avó no.2 "In the event of rain and a bit of wind, shut the shutters, and don't under any circumstances go out in the rain... for if one drop shall hit thee on the head...thou shalt die a terrible instantaneous death".
Here in the outer reaches of Azeitão these laws are never, but NEVER, broken... must be something in those clouds of strang smelling fumes that emanate from large chimneys in Setúbal and/or Barreiro.
I'm now going to go outside and sit in a bucket while the rain pours down on my head and the wind buffets my brains.
October 19, 2004
I really must try and finish this banda before the end of the century
Well, it needs more than two frames, dunnit?
Feeling a bit wordless at the moment...this changing weather has made my bones and head ache...not good for writing words... but ok for painting.
October 18, 2004
Weirdest search engine query to get to here, EVER
"diagrammatical representation of restaurant eating in a flow chart"
?
October 17, 2004
October 16, 2004
Men are just so... the SAME
Well, it's true! Go to where I was brought up in the depths of deepest darkest Devon... he's there! Come to Azeitão... he's here!
October 14, 2004
Traditional Shopping Dance in Azeitão
I'm having a few posts of not too many words. My head hurts.
(btw, this is one of my favourite drawings ever ever ever by me)
Oooh, nice t-shirt!
Some of the drawings in this set of "drawings with not many words" are real people in my village. Others are just mildly exaggerated real people in my village.
October 13, 2004
October 10, 2004
October 08, 2004
The sky has gone a very strange colour
So, finally autumn must be on it's way. There is an almighty wind blowing and I have spent the day regretting having ever grown my hair.
Better turn off this pc before it blows up due to a lightening strike.
October 07, 2004
A HAND...BAG?????? (importance of being earnest....)
Farting around in Lisbon today, testing the new train station at Coina (Well, that's another story... need to check their customer service manuals PRONTO!.. but apart from that fab, baixa to my front door in exactly an hour)I was struck by what a load of crap there is on sale andthat people BUY it, AND wear it. I've made my mind up to make all of my own clothes from now on so that I can look horrible cheaply rather than to have paid real money for it.
A HAND BAG???
Handbags, I noticed, are on sale EVERYWHERE and most are flipping ghastly. Two shops next to each other on Avenida da Liberdade show this to be true (see, ma! I CAN write "A level" grade essays!)... Luis Vuitton and Lonchamp.... EUGH! Pleurgh! pffffff. yik. (There are some GORGEOUS YUMMY handbags in Lisbon, in HOLD ME for instance, where I think Hilda Portela sells her handbags, they're LOVELY! ooops, was that a plug? :) )
Now, let's look at Luis Vuitton. Hmmmm. BROWN handbags, mostly. They're Brown! Not natural cured leather brown, but nasty printed brown in that particularly nasty pattern of theirs. I don't know how long they've used that ugly pattern, but aren't they sick of it yet? Luckily for them there are plenty of silly people (some are friends of mine!) who will buy their ugly BROWN handbags. Next door to LV, is Longchamp (de Paris), I don't know them, but they do the same kind of dull ultra conservative stuff that is rather nondescript in an ugly roundy edged bland sort of way. BUT, they are having a "special" at the moment. None other than the glorious monster artist Tracy Emin has been designing them some handbags, that or they've been ripping her off and stealing photos of her. They have a handbag in a choice of two colours done in Emin's "cr-appliqué" style. Ooh, that Tracy Emin is a clever woman... if she puked in a plastic bag and called it "My Lunch" someone would surely buy it.
(The Tracy Emin handbags are actually rather lovely objects... if someone wanted to buy me one, I'd receive it gratefully...I'll have bankrupted myself buying bags from HOLD ME (bairro alto!))
October 06, 2004
Ai, ai, ai, Marcelo!
As of this Sunday, Vitriolica Webb's Ite will have a new commentator, because I need someone to tell the nation what to think.... (I've told him to switch off his phone, so don't bother ringing him to get him to be your commentator!)
da da da da da da da daaaaaaaaaaaaaah.....
MursellrebelldaSOHza!
For non Portugal dwellers... this is MursellrebelldaSOHza, who used to tell the nation what to think to analyse the week's events every Sunday evening on my favourite top quality TV channel.
Go here for further vit' n' madge treatment on MARCELO REBELO de SOUSA.
ai ai ai, Marcelo, dodidodidodidooooo, ai ai ai, Marcelo!
A speck of dust that looked like Janis Joplin
I forgot to draw my drawing of Diana Krall from Friday night at the Coliseu. Apart from being a great pianist, beautiful gravelly singer (especially with the terrible cold she had that night) and having left off the dulled down jazz standards and gone much more bluesy and grown up improv jazz-ish (I hope you realize I'm winging it here with my musical descriptions, I am a know NOTHING really)... anyway, apart from all this, I was shocked to discover that Diana Krall is very very tiny. So tiny in fact that I couldn't see her face, for it was the size of the head of a pin. Tiny tiny tiny. And her accompanying band. Three more tiny tiny tiny little people on the stage. And tiny little musical instruments.
.
.
.
So, I have resolved not to go and see such acts anymore where I'm so far away from the stage that it could in fact really be a speck of dust that looks like Janis Joplin, (Ute Lemper could have been a tiny matchstick jumping around on the stage at the big auditorium in CCB, and Pavilhão Atlântico?... HA! nem pensar... I saw Carmen performed there by a troop of ants) and NEVER EVER again will I go in a Camarote/Box. I almost died of a craned neck and a sore bum.
October 05, 2004
Peço-lhes IMENSA desculpa...
but I HAVE to say something about "Quinta das Celebridades"! I promise this will be the last time I mention this nonsense.
I have just watched one episode of the horseshit that passes for television these days and I am ABSOLUTELY hooked!
If only to see if before the three months are up someone murders Castelo Branco .(this ridiculous waste-of-life-energy that passes for a man brought 75 pairs of shoes, 70 jackets, 120 jars of lacquer, presumably hair lacquer (?) ) He got into a panic when the fellow fluff heads told him that everytime he is nominated to be expelled he has to pack his bags HIMSELF (his maid, ZsaZsa it sounded like, had packed for him). I predict that Cinha will shag the big muscly Brazilian bloke and the mayor of wherever-it-is outshines everyone at woodchopping. What a load of entirely addictive bollocks.
October 01, 2004
You are entering Hell...
You are entering hell...
...should be on a sign as you enter Azeitão on the first Sunday of each month.
First Sunday of the month? Feira day! A huge market selling fresh produce, plants, 'ikkle baby animals for eating, extremely cheap tools and utensils and lots and lots of polyester clothing and knock-off dvds.
It attracts visitors like a huge jar of dubiously authentic honey attracts bees, so much so that I generally don't go anywhere in the village on these days... because I can't move for fear of being run over by maniacal drivers rushing to buy some knock-off Tommy Hilfiger (what IS it about Tommy Hilfiger?) or eat greasÃssimo churros or buy cds for a fiver that have NOTHING ON THEM!
This morning though, I had to leave the house and I sorely regretted having run out of EVERYthing that I needed to eat for breakfast. I was hungry. I steeled myself, let the house, and sat in a traffic jam for twenty minutes. I got stuck in a people-jam at Hell's Supermarket in the main village, being literally beaten up by several dozen old ladies and their shopping bags and hard bread whilst in the queue. Smiling sweetly all the time, obviously, I sat in a bicha (traffic jam) for another twenty minutes to get home, the village and "greater" village swarming with half the population of the country.
Well, there are bargains to be had and it'll be a long time till the next feira... which is next week in the next village but one... a good 6 km away.
Ug.