Okay, good. Good.
So, I'm in Portugal at a hotel I don't know the name of and probably couldn't spell anyway.
This has been a long time comin', so let's get our pants on and get down to it.
Internet cafés shared the fate of the Stegasaurus and the Polar Bear - wait, do we still have Polar Bears? Cause we don't have internet cafés any more.
Consequented (not a typo), this is my first opportunity to update you on the gallivanting of this travelling Gulliver.
Right off the bat, Portuguese women have nicer bums than those of the Dutch, but nothing beats browsing Holland's prostitutes ("sex workers" if they're within earshot).
Currently, I'm at a street cafe on some avenue in Lisbon, Portugal.
Pigeons are essentially the same here, though they were more brazen outside of Sao Jorge Castle, flitting about discarded lunch trays, knocking over the drinking glasses.
They seemed gray as cigarette ash contrasted against the striking, electric-blue plumage of the peacocks, who are much like pigeons besides being huge and beautiful (and proud, of course).
I was working on a nice close-up shot for you guys when some pink-skinned fanny pack asshole got between us and scared it away, which I'm sure he does with animals wherever he goes.
Don't like tourists. I do not like tourists.
Yes, yes, I'm a tourist. I get that. I also hate myself when I point in a direction and say to the missus, "I think the hotel is that way."
I learned to dislike the wayfarer in Banff, and little has changed, as it turns out.
Anyway, rather than complain about them for a paragraph, let's break, regroup, and I'll give you some of my first-ever travel tips.
edit: This keyboard is very Portugeuse, and despite changing language settings, Blogger is telling me that every word I'm typing is spelled incorrectly. We're on the clock here, so you make the corrections in your head as we go, and I'll fix them when I'm back in the land of the frigid. Thank you.
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