Is there something in the water? within minutes of entering portugal on the little green train, something changed.
A heaviness id been carrying that wasnt the damn backpack seemed to dissipate and i could breathe. my skin felt a little less dirty, even my poor old feet felt a little less battered.
mama as ever remained nonplussed but i detected an extra wag in her tail. There was no denying that portugal was doing something pleasant and refreshing to us. first coffees were delicious, everything made me laugh. That almost alien sound i had forgotten was inside me and i was determined to let it out on the crooked, colourful streets.
And oh the streets.....We hit Coimbra unaware the whole damn town was built in an MC Esher daydream. tumbling ever taller and impossibly higher on top of each other. how in the same of santa clara could this continue?
sweating profusely and freely we meandered in unpracticed shapes...bending forwards and backwards, defying gravity and sense of decorum but our way was eventually found. Beers entered the system and the buffoonery of the streets entertained our broken tired bodies.
It wasnt just us that seemed extraordinary...the charaters on the streets seemed more colorful, more alive than anything i had seen in weeks.
What were they drinking here in this country? what was in the water? Portugal who are you? and thank you dear absurd and smirking character for whatever dog and pony show you are about to deliver.