Ana Moura, Esplanade, Singapura
Memória: Fado. Não há muito mais a dizer. Para um emigrante, o significado de fado fora de portas só tem paralelo em bacalhau, Marco Paulo e chouriço. Quanto ao concerto, estupendo. A guitarra portuguesa em muito boas mãos, e eu com uma lágrima.
18/20
Ana Moura, Esplanade, Singapore
Memories: Fado. Needless to say, for a portuguese emigrant, the meaning of Fado music overseas is only comparable to our cod fish, corny musicians and salami sausage. As for the concert, fantastic. The portuguese guitar in great hands, and a tear in my eye.
Dubai
After 9 months in Singapore, it was time to go back home and say hi to the family. I was missing them dearly, after a year of intense work and little travelling.
I thought of making the trip a little more interesting, and give my travel bug something to chew on. So I got myself a stop over in Dubai, to finally see what the buzz is all about.
Fernando, my Argentinean River Plate hincha was the perfect host! I got to see most of what Dubai is, and couldn't help feeling it like those rich spoiled detestable kids with bankrupt socialite parents. At least they have some seriously good looking architecture to show for it.
Thrilla in Manila
I never thought one day I would step foot on the Philippines. But life is unpredictable, and now an ongoing project takes me there every month. This video is a collection of clips from my very first visit to Manila, and no doubt, the most eventful one.
I took a number of different transport modes, fell in love with a thing called Jeepney and air raided a Vietnamese village. In 3 words: THRILLA IN MANILA!
The Office
The average person spends more time working than doing any other activity. That's especially truth in my office. Some of my colleagues have all but moved in, and my reputation as a slacker grows. I tend to limit my daily average to 9.5 hours. So lazy of me...
Being away from my family and long time friends, the office tends to become the closest thing to family. I certainly have found some good friends there. This video is my little take on work and job, related trips and all odds and sods through these floydean eyes.
Java - Land of the "bad guys"
My first true contact with Southeast Asia's culture was Indonesia. I wanted to make Indonesia my first experience of the real Asia, away from Singapore's "clean and safe" bubble. There were personal reasons behind this choice.
The experience was beyond my best expectations. Ancient architecture, archeology, mountain climbing, and most of all, extraordinarily friendly people made it an unforgettable voyage. Check out the video of INDOCHINA Episode 003 to see what I mean.
The year of the Tiger
Integration to any alien culture is a progressive process. Singapore is no exception. It started roughly. Jet lag kills me. New year's eve went by like an out of body experience.
Soon after I started to see the sights. And what sights. This place is beautiful! (although I guess I can find beautiness anywhere. Its always there).
During the week I'm an architect. During the weekend I'm an explorer. Still, I've been living a quiet life. Relaxation above all. My pool and my bicycle are great companions, as is my Liverpoolmaniac flatmate.
Southeast Asia is a fascinating region, and Singapore is the melting pot. Everyone is here. The malay, the chinese, the Philippinos, Indians, Indonesians, vietnamese, you name it. There is one thing they all celebrate: CHINESE NEW YEAR! (even the indians and the portuguese join in for the party)
Come discover a bit about this fascinating event on the second chapter of my INDOCHINA videos.
In the back seat
I've been going to the capital of Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur, on a regular basis, due to frequent project meetings. It's a short flight and a long taxi journey to the hotel. The other day I was looking around the taxi and it had a few stickers.
One said: "No food". Ok, fair enough, I thought. People could make a mess out of this back seat with a cup of noodles.
Another sticker said: "No smoking". Damn right! This cab is right up my alley. Nice clean environment and only the possible smell of curry if he's from India.
The last sticker said: "No kissing". Now HANG ON! What the fuck?! Kissing should be specified in the human rights declaration as beings in a first class along with breathing, freedom, krispy kreme donuts and clean underwear. It's an absolute primary need, and who's that cab driver to tell me otherwise?!
Lucky for him I was riding with my very cool but definitely unappealing colleague Chris Khoo. Had it been my lady and he'd see more tongue than a Rolling Stones audience.
A new beginning
The unpredictable nature of life has once again prevailed, and I have again found a challenge far away from the old borders of the beautiful portuguese land.
I am currently working in Singapore. I hope to soak up as much as I can from all the fascinating cultures that surround this little island. I will be updating this blog with my impressions and experiences, in the hope that all my friends can share them with me. Inspiration is my motivation.
South America's adventure was labelled La Panamericana.
Australia's experience was fittingly named Down Under.
This time, come join me as I discover the tropical wonders of INDOCHINA.
001 Madeira, Portugal
Cabo Girão, the highest vertical cliff in Europe
002 Yokohama, Japan
I miss my beloved lost red shoes
003 Kyoto, Japan
Hope jumping wasn't disrespectful to the Shrine
004 Lisbon, Portugal
Feeling like an eagle over my capital
005 Pag Island, Croatia
Eagle's nest. The good times
006 Edirne, Turkey
Check out the kid! (the small kid)
007 Istanbul, Turkey
The Blue Mosque. The largest mosque in the neighbourhood
008 Great Barrier Reef, Australia
I look like a frog. Ridiculous
009 Kalbarry Gorge, Western Australia
If only I could explain how hot it was that day
010 South island, New Zealand
NZ often comes to me in dreams. It's abusively beautiful
011 Oarsman's Bay, Fiji
My retirement hide away
012 Uluru, Australia
A place like no other
013 Moscow, Botswana
Just checking your attention! :)
Massive Attack, Dom Sportova, Zagrebe, Croácia
Memória: O intenso fumo de tabaco criou um efeito psicadélico. Naquela noite os Massive pareciam estar a fazer a banda sonora do Apocalypse Now. Brilhantes como sempre. Tear Drop em declínio minimalista.
17/20
Massive Attack, Dom Sportova, Zagreb, Croatia
Memories: The tick tobacco fog created a psychedelic effect. For all I can tell, Massive Attack could be scoring Apocalypse Now that night. Very poor version of Tear Drop. Too minimal.
When I woke up last Sunday, I had no idea of the amazing events that would unfold later in the day. Sometimes it's just a matter of being in the right place at the right time. That was me on Sunday.
Inside that 800hp Maserati MC-12 beast, doing a night time lap with italian driver Pier Guidi felt like the experience of a life time...
Click below for the PIT LANE video
More Videos
As previously promised, I have now concluded my New Zealand and the Fiji videos. The New Zealand video is the conclusion of the M&M saga. Like any cult movie, a trilogy was in order, with this third and last episode dedicated to the North Island. Fiji is dedicated to all the ones that weren't there, and whom I missed terribly. Without further adu, please click below for my New Zealand and Fiji youtube pandemonium:
MUMMAGUMMA IN NEW ZEALAND PART 3
Arohanui!
GOING DOWN UNDER XXIX
Outback!
And then I went walkabout. There were two states left to visit in Australia. Unsurprisingly the driest of the country. I’m fascinated by the dry desert landscapes, and there was no more appealing destination down under than the red centre. As dry as a dead dingoes donger! Australians call it “the outback”, a vast extension of flat land covered in red dust where Kangaroos, Dingoes and Emus can be spotted on the wild. I left it to the end. I wanted it to be the last hurrah, and I wanted to disappear into the vast plain alone.
Australia stretches roughly for 5000km east-west and north-south, so it was going to be a sort of Dakar rally without a car. First stage was a 6:20 am 13 hour train from Sydney to broken Hill, on the border with South Australia (the driest state of the driest continent). Needless to say I missed it. I read 7:00 on the ticket, but failed to notice it was 7:00PM and that was the arrival time. Ended up arriving at 11pm on a boring bus! I spent two days couchsurfing with Liz and keith, who were terrific hosts! The next day I went to Silverton, a sort of Midwest cowboy town, where Mad max II was shot. The vision on the Mundi Mundi plain stretching as far as the eye can see was phenomenal. Broken Hill itself is a very interesting mining town with great touches of colonial architecture. From there I also did a day tour to Darling river, and some very surreal picture opportunities. Me and some 30 old times. Boy they were tough and loooooooved to sing! %$#”/#*#&!!!!
From there I flew to Adelaide. Nice city. Pretty and all, but I’ve seen plenty of that. I wanted the endless outback. Then took a night bus to a pirate town called Coober Pedy. It’s the Opal mining capital of the world, and a truly unique place. Got there at 5am and checked in at the backpackers… an underground building carved on the stone. You see, Coober Pedy reaches 50c in the summer, and -5 in the winter. Underground temperatures vary from 22 to 25. Brilliant!!
Did an amazing tour of the region the next day, and couldn’t be more amazed with the Breakaways Ranges, a group of incredibly colourful mountains placed randomly on the endless plain. As for the mining itself, so you have an idea, there are over four million holes in the region. It was a bizarre sight, and many people disappear into one of them without a trace. The next day was going to be essential. Not because of the early morning long bus journey, but because of the afternoon hitch hike. Anyone who saw Wolf Creek will understand. Aussies are less than keen on giving a ride after that serial killer. Well, but I’m even lesser than keen on letting popular folklore ruin my plans! Got a great ride to a cattle station with an old couple who liked me so much they gave me an open invitation to visit them in Melbourne. I was on the last state, the Northern Territory, to most aussie place there is, and I was not to be disappointed!
I was entering the holy trinity area. Mt Conner, Uluru and kata Tjuta. About the feelings and sheer impact of their presence to me there’s little to say. I was overwhelmed by the size, the colour, the sunset and the atmosphere (just so you have a clue, any of these rock monoliths is higher than the Eiffel Tower). It’s an experience I will more successfully transmit on my Outback video, out soon! My Australian adventure had arrived at its natural and most desired destination. Image fades to black, and all is good. Cut!
Silverton Hotel and the Mad Max Interceptor
Not to scale
The Darling river
The Breakaways
Sunrise
Mt Conner on the distance
Mt Conner
Jump Man at Uluru
Uluru at sunset
Jump man still in the zone!
Scenic flight over Uluru
Kata Tjuta with Uluru on the background
New Zealand Video
After setting a trend with my videos, there was no way I was gonna miss out on the chance to make a video of my New Zealand experience. This was however a time consuming process, since given the raw beautiness of the place, I ended up gathering a lot of material. These videos are of the first 10 days on the South Island. Youtube also has size limitations, so I had to divide the video into parts. Without further bla bla, please click below for my New Zealand youtube extravaganza:
MUMMAGUMMA IN NEW ZEALAND PART 1
MUMMAGUMMA IN NEW ZEALAND PART 2
GOING DOWN UNDER XXVII
Bula Fiji
Ever since I first conceived my time in Australia, I conceived a visit to Fiji. I can’t even recall why, but no South Pacific experience would be complete without the holy trinity Australia, New Zealand and Fiji. Is it the name? Fiji. Fidgee.There’s another thousand islands scattered all over the Pacific, but Fiji has a ring to it...
It also had a rare effect on my lips. I couldn’t stop smiling for the entire first day. It was warm, sunny, the people were nice and chilled out, and it had that smell of exotic fruits and colourful cocktails. It made me wish my parents were there. It was Africa all over, with a touch of the Caribbean and many memories of places like Brazil and Cuba. It’s the perfect mix.
Jon was the couchsurf host of hosts. Turns out he’s a hotel manager, and so we were treated to a hotel room and complementary tour of the main island! He also helped us book our days in the Mamanucas and Isawas islands. Fiji is composed of two main islands, where most locals live. It’s the agricultural centre of the country. However, the touristic epicentre is the island hopping, where carefully set resorts populate islands of idyllic beauty, with a sunset made for romance. The Blue Lagoon or Castaway are some movies set on these islands.
During my last night on the main island Viti Levu, at 2am I tried in vain to follow the tennis as Federer made history in the Roland Garros final, through slowest wireless connection ever. Needless to say I saw 1 second of moving image in every 10, but still found reason to celebrate!
The first island was Beachcomber, on the Mamanucas. It’s your typical very small atoll “party island”. I Did the limbo till I got a dislocated shoulder and met a very cool crew. 5 stars to Vinny Costello, the Fijian/Irish owner, who drowned me in Kavas (the non alcoholic local drink) and was a great company. 5 sacs of shite to the 100 bed dorm. I’m too old and grumpy for dorms and shared facilities. (Although it is an experience)
The second island was Oarsman’s bay, on the Isawas. It’s nothing short of heaven. A great Island full of surprises and the most chilled out place on earth. That’s the sort of place i wanna take my missus on a honey moon. 5 stars to the clear warm water and the view from my room. 5 sacs of shite to having moody Marcos there instead of my missus! :)
The last island was Manta Ray, on the Isawas. It’s a mix between party and nature. By this time I had no patience for socializing, but made the most of the kayak to explore empty beaches and the amazing reefs. 5 stars to the food, the moonlight (the best I’ve ever seen – watched the moon rise on the beach with The Dark Side of The Moon and Massive Attack for a company) and swimming naked on an empty beach. Apologies to the male fish in the region. 5 bags of shite to the shared facilities and cold shower.
In the end the Fijian people was my most enduring memory. Relaxed, happy and always smiling. They’re never late for anything: Even aussies can’t beat the “Fiji time”. Bula!!
The Mamanucas islands group
Beachcomber views
Vinny Costello in fire red
The Isawas islands group
Oarsman's Bay beach
Oarsman's Bay beach
Big Fish
The sunset
deserted island
Oarsmans Bay - The view from my room
Manta Ray - Marcos contemplates
Manta Ray - Ace and the wavebreakers
South Pacific sunset
Aotearoa North island
Day 14 - Rotorua
My every day morning ritual is to wake up, open the curtains and check the sky. And what can I say?! Blue and azul. I think this is God trying to compensate me for all the shit he puts me through in sports. I mean, the bloody Lakers, Greece and Benfica ever since the referees association moved its control centre to the North of Portugal in the 80’s. And you know what?! Great deal with the lord above! Keep on screwing my teams while I enjoy the weather of Heaven on my journeys. (having said that, the Australian Open was hard to swallow)
The rest of the South island was something to remember forever. Milford Sound was voted by Kiwis the best destination in the country and I totally agree with that. It’s a place unlike anywhere I’ve been before. A mix between Norwegian Fjords and the rain forest. Words are pointless. After leaving Queenstown we had a great drive along the Southern Alps back to Christchurch. Lake Tekapo is the place for inspiration, and Lindis Pass, a portion of highlands where only small yellow grass and weeds grows, at a certain point in the orangy late afternoon sun feels like another planet. I dumped the first Poderoso and took a train and a ferry between islands. What a journey! The train had an open balcony, such is the beautiness of that region, and the ferry was more like Las Vegas packed in a ship, although the sea was so rough and windy I can’t say I enjoyed myself too much.
Wellington felt like the most boring town on a Monday night. After picking up La Poderosa (a station wagon) we headed North to Tongariro National Park, a collection of active volcanoes and breathtaking high mountain views. We did the famous 11km Tongariro Crossing and there was absolutely NO ONE else on the track but us. That feeling of being alone in the wild is something I search for in any of my explorations of this blue dot and that day was possibly the best ever. The contrast between the snow covered mountains and the steam and heat coming out of the craters was fascinating. After that we headed to the Rotorua region, famous for its thermal activity. For 100 kms there are geysers steaming out all around you. It’s insane! It’s also an area of strong Maori culture, the indigenous of Aotearoa. (New Zealand) Why they all look like Rugby players I don’t know.
My good friend Janeko told me recently that New Zealand has been his dream destination for years. No matter how long it might take him to accomplish that dream, it will be absolutely worth it. And that goes for the rest of you commie homo-loving sons of guns. My father emailed me the other day. He said: “Enjoy it son, because no one comes out of this life alive”. Words of wisdom. Times pass away… Seize the day.
My thanks to Marcos for some of his great pictures:
New Zealand South island
Day 6 - Queenstown
New Zealand welcomed my friend Marcos and I with the most miserable weather. It was the last hurrah of a week long storm. That night we couchsurfed Verna and Ian’s house, and got some great local tips. The next day we drove to the west coast, and a great sunset. The weather has since changed to the most beautiful days conceivable for an Autumn at this latitude. It’s still freezing cold, but clear blue skies and the most amazing light over the lakes, mountains, forests, beaches and everything else this place has to offer.
The adventurous side of this trip has seen so far a day long exploration of the Franz Josef glacier, my life long aspiration for a skydive, in the most scenic place on earth, and an awesome boat ride down a canyon. Pure adrenalin rush! Still, nothing like the skydive. I felt like special agent Johnny Utah! What a rush!
We’re currently in Queenstown, the world’s extreme sports capital. It’s beautiful beyond words, with a fantastic atmosphere. I saw some clouds gathering this afternoon. Alarm bells!
But who needs words when we have pictures?
Tipical New Zealand
Franz Josef Glacier
Night sky
Getting ready to fly
The New Zealand Alps
Hanging by a string
Landing field
Survivors
Mirror lake
Jump Man somewhere in new Zealand
My ride
Queenstown at sunset
Queenstown...
Sydney
First of all, apologies for having my site offline for the past week. Maintenance.
Times are changing. Pigs are taking the world by flu and I wonder what ever happened to Ralph Macchio, the Karate Kid. Or the lonely Macauley Culkin for that matter. I have no idea why. I think it's the moist in the air today, messing my brain activity. It happens sometimes. The other day I went to get toilet paper at the supermarket, and came back with The Conservative Party's magazine. Comes down to the same, I guess... just a momentary lapse of reason.
I'm leaving the office this Friday. It's a shame to leave such a nice bunch of people behind, but other challenges lie ahead, so I'm very much looking forward to it. There's a solid 2 months of travelling starting on the other side of Friday night, and some pretty exotic locations to discover. But that's looking forward. Looking backwards there's Sydney, and a big sigh.
Sydney is without a shadow of doubt the best place I've ever been to for a steady life. I had a good time here, and this place will be in my heart forever, along with everyone in this city. I had the chance to learn many Cultural Learnings of Australia for Make Benefit Glorious life of Miguel Sagdiyev. I am however not the son of Boltok, the rapist.
Take the bus lines as an example. Bus drivers here actually smile! I mean, back in Europe, complex plastic surgeries ensured they could never smile or display any expression other than boredom and unhappiness. What's wrong with them here?! Some of them had the nerve to say hi to me, as I entered the bus! Its an outrage! And people thank them for stopping. That would be an interesting social experiment back in Europe... the driver would probably take it as sarcasm and start a riot.
No matter how beautiful the country is, with its fine weather, it is the Australian way of life that's truly captivating.
Check out my video tribute to Sydney and my office:
MUMMAGUMMA IN SYDNEY
The rainbow from my desk
Mardi Gras
The challenge of discovering a new culture has more to do with detail. Everybody knows the Opera House, or at least how it looks. People wear Billabong and drink Fosters anywhere in the world, but maybe only a few know that the a can of coke in europe is 330ml, whereas in Australia it's 375ml.
In London people stand on the right side of the escalator, like anywhere else in Europe. Here people stand on the left. In Australia Tuesday is the movies discount day, and there's no sweet popcorn.
Pubs and restaurants are an experience. There is no, I repeat, NO Fosters anywhere in Australia. Did you know that? Marketing at its best. Pubs are the size of an arena and in a quiet night there are at least 3 brawls and a couple hundred people heavily "happy". Luckily there's never that many people waiting by the counter for a drink, (or at least not compared to London. Brits flock by the tap like there's no tomorrow) and it's possible to take your own wine to a restaurant. (although they'll charge you for drinking your own wine which you purchased yourself at your own expense. Exploitation is the best.)
Then you have the events. And in Sydney there's no event like Mardi Gras! It's their own "go bananas" day, and I was there to witness it. Carnival as we grew to know and hate in Portugal, is a pathetic display of mentally challenged people who wish they were brazillian (officially a mental illness in its own right) and can't even see it's February and BLOODY COLD in the northern hemisphere. Out here however, carnival is called Mardi Gras, it's in March (as the french name suitably suggests) and it's fun! (for about 2 hours...)
It's mostly the local gay pride parade-let's-all-get-out-of-the-closet-and-be-outrageous-for-a-day kind of groove. And it works! I was laughing out loud for 2 hours! Then it got kinda boring and I came home and watched nine weeks and a half.
Click here for my indispensable videotube:
mummagumma at the Mardi Gras
Western Australia
Australia is composed of 8 states. Recently I visited the 6th of these, Western Australia. It was my first encounter with the australian outback, and also the first time I laid eyes on the Indian Ocean.
This is a peculiar state, because of its sheer size. It's 4 times the size of Turkey or Texas, and larger than any european country (by far).
It's so vast, that I've met several people caravaning around it for more than 6 months! And they have no plans of crossing to any other state. It's the size of friggin Argentina!!
The plan was both simple and ambitious. I was to fly to Perth, the state's capital, and then cover approximately 2100 km in 4 days, before returning again to spend a bit of time in Perth, and then take an overnight flight back straight to work. My ultimate destination in Western Australia: Shark Bay.
Shark bay is the westernmost point of Australia, where in 1616 the first recorded landing by a European on Australian soil occurred. It's Australia's very first national park and home to many endangered marine species.
On my way back I gave a canadian called Ben a 700 km ride to Perth. This guy hit the hitchhiking jackpot. Me, not so much. Despite the fact that he was simply brilliant and a great company all the way... he smelled bad! I'm talking about SKUNK bad! (doninha) They should use him to disperse angry mobs and Serbs. (probably wouldn't work with the Taliban) All they have to do is let him sweat for a couple of hours by the road in Western Australia's heat!
I had an amazing time there and on the way there. I love the road, and all the surprises that lie just around, if you're smart and lucky enough to discover them. Highlights were the Pinnacles Desert, the Pink Lake and the Kalbarri gorge, hell on hearth. Oh, and also little Lisa and Brackoon, the coolest kangaroo to ever make it to Youtube!
Click on the link below for my Western Australia video. (8 minutes long - sorry, too much worth capturing...)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ovtRqS3NHCg
5 years ago, I bought a pair of Nike red shoes. I liked the style, the colour, and mostly the comfort.
They became faithful journey companions, and I was a loyal owner. I took those shoes to 4 continents.
My red shoes became mythical. They generated panic and fury in the ruling class and bosses alike, which made me wear them even more often! I'll never forget Melvin's pale face when I pretended those were my only shoes for a meeting in Amsterdam.
They were a useful tool as well, for my more than occasional black market ticket transactions. "Meet me under the Freddie Mercury at Tottenham Court Road. I'll be wearing red shoes". Never failed!
Most of all, they made sure that in the rugged paths of Honduras, the steep peaks of the Andes, the never ending avenues of Chicago, the slippery wet floors of Tokyo's fish market or Australia's dusty roads I could feel like I was walking on pillows. Sadly they passed away victims of the ruthless Western Australia heat. I'll never find such comfort again...
These shoes were more than pillows. They were a friend. A confident. A trusted companion who always had an advice, and who was never afraid to tell me what I needed to hear. (I'm getting sentimental, I know....)
Farewell, my friends. may the rubbish bin life lead you to meet other faithful shoe sole road dust busters. I'm sure you'll have plenty to talk about.
Venice 2004 - Marco and I Trying to break into a church
Miami Beach 2005 - The end of an era
London 2006 - At my Notting Hill house
Paris 2007 - Le jump man
Yokohama 2008 - Banzai jump man!!
Tasmania 2008 - Still going strong
Western Australia 2009 - The last journey
Still hanging in there. Well deserved retirement
the tale of a man
This is the tale of a man. The tale of a man who seems to have a bad case of memory loss and bad luck.
This is the tale of a man who double booked himself with flights to Western Australia and a Coldplay concert. Upon realising this, it became the tale of a man in desperate search for a ticket swap for a previous Coldplay concert.
This man has distant relatives living in Sydney, whom he still didn't visit. Well, this is also the tale of the relatives who invited this man over for a party at their house. Only the man could not attend the dinner, because he was going to fly to Western Australia, hopefully after a successful Coldplay ticket swap. This man had to excuse himself, but the relatives were so kind as to ask this man if he could attend the dinner the following weekend. The man promptly answered yes, and felt redeemed. So the relatives proceeded to change all arrangements of all involved in order to accommodate the man's presence at the party.
Faith interfered and the man was able to swap his Coldplay ticket. The concert was great, and Western Australia quite spectacular! The universe's balance seemed to have been restored.
This became the tale of the man who, right after agreeing everything on the phone with the relatives, thought to himself: Hang on... The Kings of Leon concert should be coming around. As long as it's not next Satur..... Oh for fuck sake!!!! Of course, this man's good friend Murphy, with his law that seems to be the most universally stubborn rule in the entire solar system, was is deep shit again. At this point this was the tale of the man who had to swallow his pride and call the relatives to explain how his old age and undeniable lack of memory both combined to explain this unfortunate coincidence. All seemed lost.
This man's good buddy Warner then emailed him with a birthday party invitation for, of course, that same night. Life has a pretty sick sense of humour, we all know, but that's no reason for destiny to rub it in your face like that...
This then turned out to be the tale of the man who failed to swap Kings of Leon tickets, but who brilliantly framed a way to sell his ticket and buy another for no loss. Oh, the sweet taste of glory! The man immediately called the relatives, in great satisfaction, to tell them he was going to make the party after all!
Friday before this infamous Saturday, this man's boss asks him what's he up to this weekend. The man explained how he expects to be busy with sports, beach and a relative's dinner party. The boss proceeded to give this man 4 corporate tickets for the New South Wales Waratahs Rugby union team, at the Sydney Olympic stadium, for the man to take whomever he wants with free VIP access. Of course, at this point, the man realized that there is a God, (or at the very least a strongly resourceful intelligence agency) that commands all happenings on Earth, but for some obscure reason this God doesn't seem to like this man very much, and uses him for self amusement purposes.
This is presently the tale of the man who still finds it annoying when he can't have it all. Because that's all he wants. Any similarities with real life are pure coincidence.
GOING DOWN UNDER XX
Australian Open
I love tennis. Some of my best memories as a kid were the improvised tennis games we played on any surface conceivable, with any piece of junk as a rackets and balls. (that's until Janeko moved to a house with a tennis court and became the gang's popular hero!)
In the year 2000, Portugal hosted the ATP Masters Cup, with the likes of Agassi, Sampras, Safin, Kafelnikov and the eventual winner, Guga Kuerten. The Masters is basically the 5th most important tournament in the calendar and arguably the most entertaining to watch. It's a treat for any tennis fan. At the end of the year, the best 8 players search for the last Hurrah of the year. Rui "the cat" and I were lucky enough to get tickets for all 15 games on that memorable week.
I remember us wondering which games to ditch... "look, Corretja vs Hewitt on thursday, that should be a bore! Let's drop that one." I guess we were a bit blasé. My most enduring memory of that week was the desire for more, once it was over. Tennis is a passion both Rui and I always had, and if one of us missed a point during the whole week, that's because when nature calls, you go. And Corretja beat Hewitt in a thriller!
I said the 5th most important tournament, because there´s this thing called "the Grand Slam". The four Grand Slam tournaments are the most important tennis events of the year in terms of world ranking points, tradition, prize-money awarded, and public attention. You can only become a legend after you win one or, preferably, a few of these.
swiss and spanish in good spirits
The first of these is The Australian Open, held in Melbourne, during January. It was my chance! And when you get a chance like this, you better make it in style. So, I got myself tickets for semis and finals. Oh boy...
When Pat (flat mate) and I landed in Melbourne, we were greeted with a bloody boiling 44º. Exactly how they can play at that level for 3 hours, while my own balls were slowly cooking despite being on the shade, is anyone's guess. I would have gladly made a pact with the devil in order to stop feeling that moist in my underwear... That's how bad it was.
The only "cool" thing about it, was the fact I was actually awake to watch the games! Back in europe it's 5am when Federer takes to the court. Gimme a break!
In the end we were treated to unbelievable performances on the men's singles. The semi between Nadal and Verdasco went down in history as the longest match ever, in the 103 years of the tournament. 5h14m. Verdasco hit 96 winners and lost the match on a double fault. What a battle...
The final was what everyone wanted to see. Number 1 and 2 in the world rankings fighting for it. Another 5 set thriller. Number 1 prevailed over number one, and I had an amazing time!
Thanks to Rui, Miguel, Chris and Ken for the real time sms's, and to the talented lady who stamped a swiss flag on my cheeks!
Swiss watch peRFect...
PS- Why the portuguese flag on my back? Well, either to support the mixed-doubles final umpire, Mr. Carlos Ramos from Portugal, or just to tease the spanish. Both noble causes.
GOING DOWN UNDER XIX
great barrier reef
Australia is a country full of contrasts. Out of all 7 states, Queensland is probably the most diverse. The size of central Europe (roughly 4 x France) Queensland is home to the bio paradise of the rain forest; home to a great portion of the vast lunar Simpson Desert, and most importantly, home to the Great Barrier Reef.
I flew to Cairns with my parents, and we shared time between exploring the rain forest and diving in the reefs.
I can't say which of those was the most memorable experience. I can only say that I was very struck and amazed by the rain forest. Its bio diversity, the fauna, the million bats flying over us, the million frogs crossing the road, the funky lizards, the huge colourful butterflies, the abundance of tropical fruits everywhere, really made an impression on me.
The reef was great, just not a surprise. You expect one of the greatest natural wonders of the world to be.... well, quite wonderful! The snorkeling was just brilliant. Understatement. Absolutely sensational!!!
Don't take this as a trend, but I had fun doing my Tasmanian video, so had a bit more fun, and did a new one on this very subject! (and kept it under 3 minutes. I can tell when I'm losing an audience) Click on the link below and take a look!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DFGW9ameeMk
touching from a distance
Some days are better than others. (U2) O que e' que queres de mim, hoje sinto-me assim. (Linda Martini)
Sometimes, these lyrics really speak to me. I guess we can all have a bad day. I know I do. Once in a while, for some particular reason, my confidence in on the low. And that's when the distance becomes hard to overcome.
Distance to what? Distance to you.
Distance is a vague concept. To me the time difference is a much harder kind of distance; certainly harder than the actual physical distance. To be away is ok. To be 10/11 hours ahead, and therefore sleeping while Europe strives, and awake while Europe sleeps, is harder than you think.
My family, my friends and my heart; all of my emotional ties, are back in Europe. I have met some really cool people here, and an ever growing social network, but no real friends. (I happen to be very picky when it comes to labeling someone a friend, and yet I am fortunate to have quite a few of the "real ones" back in the old continent)
So, if I have a bad day, I can't really call any of the "real ones" to take my head off of it. Thankfully, bad days have been quite rare here, or tend to go away quickly.
Its the pros and cons of my Down Under. I have to rely on myself to deal with my internal storms, and that helps me to mature emotionally. It's a journey within the boundaries of my own psyche.
"Staying in the same place, just staying out the time.
Touching from a distance, Further all the time."
Transmission, Ian Curtis
GOING DOWN UNDER XVII
Christmas by the beach
Spring was a very bizarre time for me. My system is designed to hate the fall, so I get into a very grumpy mood from September to November. I don't like to see the days getting shorter, and the clock go back. It gets worse than that. My aversion to this period dates back to the traumatic days of school, and the inevitable "judgement day" somewhere in September, when all that's evil and horrible about this world becomes your 9 to 5 every weekday of your young life. (my greatest joy in life is still and will always be that I'm DONE with the fucking school...)
Of course down under the rules change; the water rotates counterclockwise and sun shines from north. But that's not all! Around October I started to smell flowers, the days were getting longer and for some bizarre reason I actually felt upbeat! It's bloody October!!! What's wrong with me? Depressive is my usual mode this time of the year.
Its really weird because the clash is inevitable. I've met people living here for 4 or 5 years, who still find it weird to have the seasons reversed. I certainly do. But hey, I'm not complaining! The smell of lavender and sunshine in November is something I can deal with, trust me! I remember in Brisbane, early in December, when I met Aussie Santa Claus... in shorts! 35ºc, tropical storms, melons and cherries, kids on summer vacations... fuckin'hell, this is the best autumn I ever had!
Though when it comes to Christmas, I do like the charm of the snow outside, while McCauley Culkin is home alone beating the crap out of those house intruders. As it turned out, I spent Christmas day with my visiting parents on the beach in Melbourne, under palm trees and smelling the BBQs. No traditional cod fish with potatoes and vegetables before the presents neither. Actually, no western food at all! The only restaurants open were Asian, and Malaysian Chicken Satay with Spicy Peanut Sauce was definitely a first for Xmas lunch.
In the end, I'm a 30 year old who lived 29 winters and 31 summers. Could be worse.
As a footnote, some of my friends asked me for a little more about Tasmania. Like I said before, words aren't enough. Images however, can be more telling. Please follow the link to YouTube, and my 6 minute Tasmanian video. Apologies for the poor resolution. Even the all mighty YouTube has its flaws.
http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=hZ6JyqUD2Vg
BEST GIG OF 2008Time to look back to the 2008 concerts, and select the ones that provided me with the best experience, the best memories and the best performances!
After careful consideration, I came up with a top 5:
Miss congeniality goes to:
MUSE at the Royal Albert Hall. The crowd was one of the best ever! Totally packed with die-hard fans, it was a miracle to get those tickets, and privilege to watch that performance.
Miss Photogenic goes to:
GOLDFRAPP. The best stage of the season. Not for the lasers and bangs, but the atmosphere generated, in perfect sync with the music.
Runner-Up 2:
PORTISHEAD. 10 years I've been waiting for this. Sublime, human, textured, orgasmic, it was absolutely perfect... Beth's vocal performance and stage presence I will never forget.
Runner-up 1:
GOLDFRAPP. I saw them twice, in the Royal Albert Hall and the Sydney Opera House. This award refers to the Albert Hall show in June. Lost for words. Sensationally creative, atmospheric, surreal, sensitive, sensual, joyful and nostalgic. Greatest candidate to concert of the year was my prediction at the time. Came awfully close! It was simply MORE perfect.
And the winner is:
ATOM HEART MOTHER. A no brainer. This was a part of the Chelsea Festival in London. It's a classic Pink Floyd epic, from 1970, comprising a full choir, brass section and a rock band. Mostly classical music mixed with rock. The last time it was performed live was somewhere in the early 70's. It was all about emotion. To see that piece played live with Gilmour on stage, to an audience of true Floyd fans was enough to ensure a climax that no other concert gave me this year. Its all in the emotion. Its all in the smile you carry out from the gig... Those present that day will know what I mean.
I'm kicking off 2009 with the Arctic Monkeys. It's gonna be the first time that everybody on stage is younger than me. Painfully unavoidable. May the force be with 2009.
GOING DOWN UNDER XVI
Couchsurfing in Tasmania
For the masses unfamiliar to the concept of couchsurfing, it consists of an online community, where you register, contact people from places you’re planning to visit, arranging to stay at their place for free, and most of all, meeting people and getting the best tips from the locals. Most of these are people with a great appeal for multicultural interaction and the travel bug. My DNA exactly.
Just before xmas I went to Tasmania. The least I can say is I have an attraction for remote places, and it doesn’t come much more remote than this. When I got there, the bus driver at the airport said: “welcome to paradise”. Oh God, here’s another pathetic over patriotic geeser, I thought. Little did I know…
On my first night in Hobart, I stayed with Gail and Jed, the dog! She told me there was another couchsurfer that night staying at her house. What she didn’t say was that it was a 70 year old American woman, travelling on her own, to do the 65km long world famous overland trek. Youth has no boundaries.
Tasmania was a great surprise. The coast is a dream, the inland a collection of incredible sceneries, lakes and valleys, and the people, a well spirited bunch! Images will speak more than any words, and still, fall short of the in loco experience.
On my last night, I couchsurfed with Ivo and his mother Iva, in Launceston. Besides a great welcome, we went to meet some friends having a bbq. No one could grasp the concept of Ivo and I meeting for the first time 2 hours before, but that home brewed bitter was totally spot on! Another great encounter.
I had the Alps and the Atacama desert as my top spots so far. Tasmania just joined that club.
Hobart at sunrise from Mt. Wellington
Wineglass Bay
Lake Dove and the Cradle Mountain
The office
I've been wanting to write about the office for a while. Offices are always full of peculiar characters, and this one is no exception! When I arrived in Australia, the only person in this continent I knew was my own bloody boss! Phil is the most relaxed boss ever. I mean, he makes Melvin from London look slightly edgy! For those not familiar with this example, Phil makes Jesus Christ himself look like Woody Allen! The turn off is his addiction to 80's pop. Any self respecting 70's rock and 90's tri-pop lover such as myself finds that extremely annoying! But he's THE dude!
The office itself is very well located, central and a short 12 minutes walk from my house, which limits the damage of my daily oversleep. People make the funniest faces when I say I leave in the neighbourhood. Yesterday I came in 25 minutes late, looking like a zombie straight out of Michael Jackson's Thriller. That's when you wish your boss is away. Of course, we was by the printer next to my desk, shaking his head in disbelief. Some days at 9am I'm still getting out of bed. I wonder what would happen if I lived inside the office. I'd still be late, I'm sure, question is how late?
Though well located, this office lacks the most basic element. A decent toilet, clean and big enough for me to go and have a nap now and then. In London we had amazing self contained toilet pods, big enough for a small rave party. I had countless 15 minutes snoozes there. Here, there's one cubicle, and any new Zealand rugby aficionado won't be able to fit through the door. The only thing that small in the whole facilities is the sense of privacy you get. That and the sink, which makes a plane toilet look like a Cuban girl's ass. Spacious.... But the highlight is the urinal. A model from the late 1300, its set next to the window... a low window. As if that wasn't bad enough, there's a public stairs right outside. Its as hilarious as it is embarrassing! The combined toilet areas are still smaller than my apartment's storage closet. Mind there are approximately 30 males working here! There are maybe 15 women, and legend has it that they even have a shower... Food for imagination. True.
Every Friday afternoon there are drinks, the occasional movie, but mostly, the trademark aussie "no worries" approach. One time I had to do this 3 day marathon design, to send that Friday afternoon. Main Man Phil had the email address I had to send the presentation to, but he wasn't in. However he did call saying it was an important client, blah blah. By 5pm I had it done, but no boss nor email address. The dude arrived like an our ago, straight to the meeting room, for chat, chips and booze! Phil!!!! What about that email?! What email..., oh yeah..... sorry.
If I have to select a character to describe, Orlando, the short fat and extremely cheesy gay interior designer, has to be the one! He's quite funny, but again, with the most retarded sense of humour since Tango & Cash. Orlando looks odd, acts odd, chooses the oddest colour and material combinations known to man with the possible exception of Vegas, and talks odd. He swallows half the words, which I can only guess is a natural tendency to swallow...
The best way to illustrate him, is to imagine a cute cartoon of a baby elephant, but still not quite as amusing as the original! Still, he's always in a good mood and I'm quite fond of his presence.
I believe this email would be utterly incomplete without a picture of both Orlando and the man's toilet.
In January we're moving to the new office. Apparently its bigger, brighter, has a snooker and ping pong table, a more generous toilet space, and a great city view. But for the love of God, it's a 20 minutes walk from my house!!! I fear the worse. Oh lord, why do you mock me???
I told you so!...
Airports
During the first 8 months of the year I did a fair bit of flying. Between work, family and leisure I flew as much as some heads of state. Because of that, I knew I would be spending the first few months in Sydney away from airports. Besides the desire to truly discover Sydney, the vision of an airport was something I was very keen to avoid.
That was until last Friday. I went up to Brisbane to visit an old friend from my Lisbon days. Since it was a flight within Australia, it was a domestic airport.
As some of you know, Portugal, compared to Aussieland, is equivalent to the size of a small half bitten nut. Its so bloody small that any pilot spending 10 minutes after take off flirting the flight attendants will cross some international border. Keeping a plane in Portuguese air space is a bit tricky. Almost like that snake game.
Englad for instance has a lot more internal flights, but the airports used are all international, which means you have to go through the most ridiculously meticulous security scrutiny, a bit like Nazis going through Warsaw ghettos. Shoes, metal, liquids, gels, electronic devices... soon someone will put a bomb up their bottom (a fart would act as a detonator - no beans on in-flights menu, please) and we can all imagine the next level of body search, can't we?!...
4 months away from airplanes did a lot of good to me. I didn't even stress on landings, but nothing could get me ready for what I was about to witness... I did my check-in online, so believe it or not, I walked through the airport without having to show ID once. I did not have to remove my shoes; hell, not even my belt! There were maybe 4 people on the x-ray line, and overall it must have taken me 5 minutes between front door and the gate. No wonder most aussies look happy. If they had to go through that soul stripping dark ages Senator McCarthy styled prosecutionist ritual there would be a lot less smiles on these streets!
It was a 1:15 hour long flight, and I had a personal entertainment system, with The Dark Knight on! Take that, you creepy Ryanair! In fact, it was such a nice experience I thought of doing it again this month... and again, and again... It's time to start exploring the big island continent.
Movember
It was in London that I was first exposed to the sponsored charity culture. That's basically people who set themselves challenges. Then they ask friends to sponsor them to do it, and the money will go to some charity organization. Examples:
Attach a cable to your ass and jump off a bridge. (some call it bungee) People will sponsor your idea because they wanna see you make pie out of yourself and they know the money will feed a good cause. Very simple.
Attach a rocket to your ass and run to your death (some call it a marathon). People will sponsor your idea because they wanna see you limp for a month and they know the money blah blah blah. Hopefully you got the general principle.
Of course, the english and aussie contingents reading this blog will know what I'm talking about, so I guess I'm focusing on any portuguese soul that trips over these lines.
Aussies came up with the most brilliant plan. Its called "movember". It's a yearly tradition that consists on growing a ridiculous facial hair lump above the lip (some call it moustache). People will sponsor your idea because they wanna see you looking like either the Beastie Boys or a complete idiot. It does have a flaw. Only men or gypsy women from the north of Portugal can do it.
You see, Portugal has a proud moustache tradition. I can say with so hesitation that we fight toe to toe with the Iranian and German moustaches! If you pick up a shaved taxi driver in Lisbon, leave the car! Chances are he might take you through the shortest most convenient way! What you want is an old school driver that takes you from the centre to the airport via Stalingrad, while telling you why Benfica needs to improve on defense. You're gonna pay 2 months rent for that ride, but will have the infinite joy of staring at that crown of facial hair with the occasional shrimp hanging off of it. Oh, how I miss the football and the porn of the 80's.... man with strong proud moustaches bouncing those balls! The good days! (at least for a Benfica fan!...)
Back to Australia, the result is the landscape becomes dramatically harry when movember hits Australia. And some of them just look so ridiculous you KNOW its a movember guy. The good thing is on average, each person gets 500$ for charity, which multiplied by all the braves out there, amounts to a lot. Not just money, but awareness. The great thing is the cheap laughs on every corner. Oh, such a simple way to keep one's spirit on a high! Brilliant!
I thought about it, but the longest I managed without shaving was 2 weeks, while in South America, and I couldn't take it any more. Like having cacti on my face! I didn't resist the temptation to keep the moustache however, and went out in Bolivia one night, looking like this:
A colombian drug dealer? A cuban gigolo? An islamic radical wannabe? A movember victim? A Lisbon taxi driver? I was going for Lech Walesa's bushiness, Emperor Hirohito's subtleness, Trotsky's intellectualness and in my wildest dreams Mr Mercury's class. I didn't quite pull it off. I looked THAT RIDICULOUS and didn't even raise a couple of dollars for charity to show for it...
GOING DOWN UNDER XII
Facebook bloody Facebook
Floydeanus Foxis Goofyus @ the zoo
The Buchaneers @ The Oscars
Weekend tourist alter ego @ Bronte Beach
Indoors rock climbing @ North Sydney
Glass bottom pool @ Lumiére Apartments
Darling Harbour @ sunset
Office BBQ @ some park too far away from my place
DIVISION (4) CHAMPIONS!!!! @ The Rocks Olimpic Stadium!
The Melbourne Cup
Last Tuesday, the world's most prestigious horse race event took place in Melbourne. This race became such a popular event, that the state of Victoria has decreeted a holiday. Billed as "the race that stops a nation", it lives to up to the reputation, and everyone all over Australia stops to watch it. We had a big BBQ lunch in the office, and an in house betting agency!
Everyone was nervous (some had a fair bit of money on the line) and my boss looked like he was gonna snap at any moment. I tried to get a little history on the event from him, but he didn't even blink, staring at the screen like a french by a brothel. Lets face it, this race is the equivalent to USA's Super Bowl, to Brazil's carnival, to England's FA Cup final, to Spain's Pamplona bullfights, and perhaps most metaphorical of all, to Lisbon's Santo António. Nothing compares.
I'm not the world's greatest gambler, but this time, to go with the tide, I invested the impressive amount of 7$! That's right, I lost it for a bit, but spirits were high and I got carried away. Turns out one of my horses came in 3rd, and I was able to collect the astronomical sum of 3$!!! Good stuff, the first time I bet, I'm a winner! Actually, as it turned out, I lost more than I won... The winner was a horse called "viewed". If the results were down to the names, this guy would have finished last.I liked "Mad Rush". More in touch with the whole point!
GOING DOWN UNDER X
Football
Australia is a very sports and fitness orientated culture. However, when it comes to "the beautiful sport", they don't seem to share the general fever you'd find across Europe and South America. And I miss that. I miss sharing that enjoyment and passion over a beer on the pub, especially watching the English Premiership. As much as I love my Benfica, for the past decades the Portuguese league sunk so low in corruption, that I must admit we became worse than Italians. An achievement.
Fortunately however, I don't miss playing, and that's because I play twice a week, with 2 teams in different tournaments. I joined my first team through a colleague. That team is a blast! With 2 wins in 8 matches, we have qualified for the DIVISION 4 FINALS!!! (That's the trophy for the bottom of the league) so next week we can be crowned CHAMPIONS! Oh yeah, fortune and glory!
Its a group of Chinese guys, for whom the ball is a curious and probably square object, although they're not too sure what to do with it. But they do run! I've never seen such a dedicated bunch! They can hardly understand what they're doing, but they never give up. Compared to them, I'm a detoxed version of Maradona. Talented but lazy as hell! To add to the already peculiar pot of 5 Chinese and a Portuguese, there's also a Greek, who wisely does not have an habit of reminding me of past miseries, and an Iranian: Kam Ran! This dude is 100% Borat without a moustache. He's the lousiest player in history (with the possible exception of the late 90's Benfica defense), but he became the mascot! Its just too amusing to hear him speak, let alone see him try to hit the ball forward. Results are low, but spirits are up!
The other team, I met through the only Portuguese I've met here so far. They're top division champions and seem to be aware of the rules and actual point of the game. Nice for a change. As nice as the definitely sweeter taste of victory. With the "Chinese" team, the ball always seems to be between our keeper and our net. But not with the clockwork orange! Oh no!! We're a killing machine! (for some bizarre reason that escapes me, 3 Brits, 2 Portuguese and 2 Aussies play with a Holland jersey...) Somehow our last opponents got into the "killing machine" mode, and I limped for more than a week.
And when I crave for a bit of the good old footy chat, I can always call Bruno, Chris or Marcos, and rest my spirits. Et Pluribus Unun.
GOING DOWN UNDER IX
Origins
One of my favourite aspects about London is its multi cultural character. I loved to feel so many different cultures and origins all coming together. So when I came to Sydney I didn't expect to find such diversity. Still, after my first day on the streets, I immediately understood Sydney shared that global gathering appeal.
Australia has 20 million people. That's about 2,5 people per Km2. As a rough guide, Portugal has 10 million, about 115 people per Km2. A density 46 times larger! Australia is a huge country, with a small population, and therefore immigration is encouraged by the government. The greatest source is naturally Asia. Half the people in Sydney come from China, Vietnam, Korea, Malaysia, Philippines, Indonesia, etc. Its a dominant sub culture, and half of the city centre is dedicated to a Chinatown 3 times the size of the London one.
Interacting with asians has been one of my favourite experiences. The food, the karaoke and the numerous useless attempts to identify where they come from. Guys, they all bloody look the same to me! (Jackie Chan...) But they're a great bunch! Last week I went for dinner with my football team, comprised of 5 chinese, 1 greek (oh dear) and 1 portuguese. One of the chinese went for this 4 Kg bowl of noodles. Tradition says if you finish it inside 30 min, its free. My friend made an impressive effort, and with 5 minutes and 2 Kg to go, threw up in the bowl. Game over. Good attempt.
The other fascinating thing about asians here, is how they change their names to "western names". Instead of a Fan Wang Wuok, you get a Tommy Wuok. Iao Ching becomes Ken Ching. Its brilliant! Apparently during high school, they all choose a name they like/identify/feel inspired by and that's it! My favourite is still my workmate David Fok. But in his case, its not the westerner name I find amusing!.... Fok?! What the Fok?? Then I started to think, hang on! Why not do the same? Deng Hua Sousa. Tanaka Miguel Fujimoto. A sea of possibilities!
Besides asians, I can identify many islanders from New Zealand, Tonga, Samoa and other islands in the pacific. I always feel like tackling them. They have RUGBY written all over their massive bodies. There's a few europeans and indians, and serious social tensions with the australian born lebanese, who seem to have a natural tendency for violence and total social disregard. That does not apply to hard working lebanese born people, who arrive in search for a better life.
Last, but by no way in hell least... the brazilian. I've reached a point where I seriously wonder if this applies as invasion. Brazil took it from portuguese and decided to create a colony! Australia! They are totally bloody fucking everywhere!!! I hear portuguese on every bus, on my gym, on my pool, on my office, in the cinema, fucking hell, even in my thoughts! :) Bondi beach speaks more portuguese than english, and going to the beach itself feels like Copacabana all over again. (Apart from the water, that is.) What amuses me about them is how they can never understand what I say. Who can blame them. I'm speking freaky portuguese, how could they understand?! Morons...
GOING DOWN UNDER VIII
Winter
I arrived in Australia in the beginning of August. In theory, winter time here. In those first weeks I experienced both chili mornings with the mercury down at 8º and sunny short sleeve afternoons. Of course, for me it wasn't much of a change from London in the summertime. Only less rain!... It took me 2 weeks to see rain here.
One day, in the Mecca of any weather debate, the office lift, someone mentioned how cold it was, and how this was the worse winter ever. I snapped. COLD?! WINTER?! These people don't have the faintest idea of any of those concepts. I caught a cold once in my Lisbon apartment, in what can only be described as the coldest sitting room in the solar system, while watching a DVD! In London houses are very warm, but try to cross the Millennium Bridge in January wearing light trousers, and you won't grow to have children of your own!
In the beginning of September there was a 31º Saturday, which felt like 40º! Naturally I spent that day on the beach, and even ventured my feet into the shark infested waters!! Bloody hell!!! It was colder than the shores of Greenland! Oh well, we can't have it all, I suppose. Still, to make my point, picture such a day in early March, back in Europe. Not likely...
So I can only conclude that the winter here is nothing but a myth. These guys have only 2 seasons. Hot and not so hot. And I'm absolutely fine with that! Its spring time now (not so hot turning hot season) and I feel great! The days are getting bigger, and the flowers perfume the streets. Its my second spring this year, which feels like tricking time. Take that, you dirty tic tacking bastard!
(Mental note: rob a bank, buy a jet for the wife and kids and live on 6 month contracts. If I live till 80, I reckon 120 springs. I'm off to HSBC.)
In my next life I want to live my life backwards. You start out dead and get that out of the way. Then you wake up in an old people's home feeling better every day. You get kicked out for being too healthy, go collect your pension, and then when you start work, you get a gold watch and a party on your first day. You work for 40 years until you're young enough to enjoy your retirement. You party, drink alcohol, and are generally promiscuous, then you are ready for high school. You then go to primary school, you become a kid, you play. You have no responsibilities, you become a baby until you are born. And then you spend your last 9 months floating in luxurious spa-like conditions with central heating and room service on tap, larger quarters every day and then Voila! You finish off as an orgasm!
I rest my case.
Spiders
Today I saw my first spider! Spiders were my biggest (and deadliest) concern about Australia. The first thing I did when I arrived was check the apartment, and inspect my shoes and the toilet seat on a daily basis. I was obsessed with it!
Well, today I had my first encounter. It won't go down in history as my first "major" encounter, and I hope that day never comes. I was riding in Pat's (my flatmate) car, window shut, when i noticed the smallest creature on the outside. It resembled the shape of a spider, but in its 1mm blond glory, it could easily have been just a flea with legs! The microscopic nature of the subject, plus the fact that it was on the outside of a perfectly sealed window combined for what can only be described as a very encouraging first encounter!
You see, Australia is quite a unique location, when it comes to dangerous animal species. I come from Portugal, where there isn't a single poisoness animal, or any other type that might constitute any sort or threat to anyone bigger than a lepricon. The only threat over there is the treasure department (those motherfuckers can bite pretty hard!) Out here, you can come across sharks, box yellies, crocodiles, snakes, etc. It is true, bites of crocodiles, sharks and black mambas are to be avoided, but it is spiders I dread the most!
There are 4 or 5 species that constitute a threat, from which the bite is quite harmful, but to the extent that's often publicised. In recent history, the last recorded person to die from a spider bite was in 1980, from a Sydney Funnel-web. Of course, to me that amounts to nothing, as the first sight of their multiple legs will make me run faster than a Jamaican, or indeed a Portuguese tax payer.
Still, design wise, they're fascinating creatures...
Old man's blues
Last August 26th marked my 22nd birthday (cof cof!..). It was my 30th actually. It was a sunny warm winter day in Sydney, and instead of spending this special day with my friends, I got to meet new ones. It was a very pleasant day, and I must thank all of you that sent me emails and messages, for you made me feel like I was close to all of you, and not across the world as I physically am. My new friends took me to the highest tower in the city, to a revolving restaurant that rotates 360º in one hour, allowing for stunning views of the harbour.
For all the circumstances, it turned out to be a pretty special and different occasion. That made me think about past birthdays, and dusting through my brain i came out with the memories of 2.
1992. I was turning 14 on the 26th. We were moving 500km south on the 28th. All my life, older siblings and friends were about to be left behind. Tough days for a kid. My house was an absolute chaos. Just after lunch time I got the visit of Gato and Gaspar. They were there to sing me happy birthday, and going through the mountains of cardboard and bags, they found a very small biscuit and a candle, and made me feel special. To this day I hold that memory as one of my most precious ones, and feel very proud to have made friends like that.
1996. Finally, the 18th birthday! I can get a driver's license and I can go to jail! My 3 great friends from childhood were staying in the south with me. Francisco had a license by then, and I got my father to lend us the car, an old 2 seater VW Golf, that took more people on the back trunk than the Lisbon buses! At one point Gaspar decided to taste the wheel and got it a bit wrong in a turn, smashing the tyre against the curb. We basically spent all night from bar to bar trying to come up with a story to tell my dad the next day. I had such an exciting time! I could actually end up in jail! :) My father decided not to press charges, as it turned out. On the dictionary, next to the word cool, you can find a picture of him.
Cheers to old age!
GOING DOWN UNDER V
The show must go on
When I moved from London to Sydney, I knew my beloved concert life style was to be sacrificed. Still, 2 weeks into my Down Under days, I got an invitation for a concert. My office is responsible for all the Apple stores this side of the blue dot, and Apple organizes concerts on their store worldwide, which are transmitted live through the web. So I got an invitation to see the Sneaky Sound System, the band of the moment here. It was a very cool event, and even though I barely knew them, its was very enjoyable.
Soon after, randomly surfing the web, I found out Goldfrapp are playing the... OPERA HOUSE!!! Now that's more like it! :)
OMG
This last weekend I was talking to a brazilian, in portuguese, naturally. There was an aussie girl next to us, who asked us where we were from. From Brazil and Portugal, we said. "So, what was that language you were speaking then?". Portuguese, we replied. Then she says, "oh, ok, that's that other type of spanish, spoke in South America, right?"
I smiled (while burning inside). "Right. That's the one".... and walked away.
GOING DOWN UNDER III
Jet lag
According to scientific knowledge, Jet lag "... is a physiological condition which is a consequence of alterations to circadian rhythms. (Whatever that means...) Such disturbances result from rapid transmeridian travel."
It's definitely an effect not to underestimate, especially when you face a 9 hour difference. Prior to my arrival, I spent 4 or 5 nights of bad sleep, between early mornings, sofas and planes. So for the first 2 nights I was able to sleep on Australian night time. But never more than 4 hours. I didn't think much of it and the accumulated fatigue culminated in one disastrous Saturday:
I woke up at 6am, and couldn't sleep more, even though I felt tired. I started looking for house share online, and found something really interesting. Called and set up a visit for 4pm that afternoon. I was staying at a fantastic but temporary serviced apartment that the office set up for me. I had wireless internet but everyday had to collect the password from the reception before 6pm, so I had to go and collect it soon. But because I wasn't sleeping properly and was feeling nauseous, I thought of "dozing off" for an hour or so. It was 12am...
I woke up at night! Fuck!!! In 1 second my brain sounded all the alarms of self respect, as I had managed to blow my jet lag acclimatization back to square 1, miss the apartment visit and lose the internet password for the rest of the weekend. I called the guy, and heard the words I most dreaded: "Sorry. The room was taken".
So, there I was, hungry, alone, homeless, and most of all absolutely sure that there was no way I was gonna sleep that night. My fears were legitimate and by 7am, in the peak of my desperation night, I took to the street, knowing that only one thing would make me smile again... the Opera House. At 7:30 I was there, alone with the white princess, and ready to make the picture the world was waiting for. The morning was more beautiful then I could have asked for...
Wikipedia says that "Throughout the duration of jet lag recovery it is important to maintain a solid amount of sleep each day in order minimize mental disturbances." My comment is: HOW ON EARTH CAN YOU GET A FUCKING SOLID AMOUNT OF SLEEP... IF YOU'RE FACING JET LAG??? Retards...
4 weeks went by and I still don't feel like I'm over it. Andres, my Colombian workmate says it took him 2 years! Oh dear...
Ema sent me this one recently. Its so good it deserves gummavitta honours! :)
In one episode of 'Cheers', Cliff is seated at the bar describing the Buffalo Theory to his buddy, Norm.
'Well you see, Norm, it's like this . . . A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. When the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members.
In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Now, as we know, excessive intake of alcohol kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine. And that, Norm, is why you always feel smarter after a few beers.'
Classic!
GOING DOWN UNDER II
Wher'a'ya from?
I've been asked where I'm from so many times already, it's starting to get boring.
So, in order to manage tedium, I thought of changing my answers.
Initially, I would say: I'm from Portugal. My mind however soon started to wonder off, and I found myself coming up with stuff like this:
I'm from Portugal. Just south of Mexico. (keeping a straight face)
I'm from Sweden, but I don't like yellow.
I come from the Easter Island. Its a bit boring there. We never get Christmas, only chocolate eggs.
I'm from Western Sahara. We've been sort of invaded by the Moroccan, but take great pride in our dunes.
I come from Ecuador. It's a very slim country that circles the earth, although some maps place us in South America. We don't like taking sides as well.
I come from Tanzania. I was running from a Rhino and just kept going.
I was born in international waters.
I'm from the Grand Duchy of Portugal. We're a tiny enclave sitting between France and Germany. Terrible neighbourhood.
I come from Kabul. (usually everybody leaves in a rush when I use this one).
I'm from Egypt. Been looking for a pyramid with an en suite, but all I can find is gay room share.
I'm from London. It's the planet furthest away from the sun.
But in the end, I'm nothing but a proud Pork'and'Cheese!
GOING DOWN UNDER
G'day mate!
I'm in Australia.
I'm here to stay. Well, to stay for a while, that is. The bags are in the closet and I have flip flops under the bed. Anchor is down and I've settled. (or as close to settling as you can without having a house, a bank account, a phone or a decent night's sleep).
Looking back, I can't trace the first moment I thought of this, which means its been a desire of mine for a long time.
I came for the experience. A new street, a new office, a new supermarket, a new bus, a new friend, a new city, a new culture, a new trip, a new beer, a new band, a new road, a new country, a new continent, a new hemisphere.
Touch down!
Prior to my departure from the BM London office, I was the subject of one of the most wonderful surprises of my life. Colleagues from the present and the past of the company, along with some other friends and some of their friends joined forces to organize a secret picnic party at Regents Park, London. Australia was the theme. I was kept in the dark and when I got there and realised all the effort and care behind that event, I felt profoundly touched.
My eternal thanks to the forces that organized, and the masses that have attended!
Its never easy to leave somewhere where you’re happy, and where people make you feel part of more than just yourself.
Obrigado.
Imagine a place where cutting edge technology is mixed with traditional values. A place where state of the art architecture shares the street with ancient temples. A place rich in culture with its unique unmistakable aesthetics, populated by the kind of people that make you feel welcome, respected and valued. Picture a place of remarkable heritage, with a unique style in food and garment, and a tropical climate. You are picturing Japan.
I had the chance to visit Japan, and it was a truly awesome experience. To realize all of the above, I understood how much the Japanese culture is still a wonderful secret to be discovered by the rest of the world. To think Japanese have something to offer beyond cars is just the beginning of a tremendous journey through centuries of culture and self discovery. Centuries which instead of being forgotten to give clean slate to the future, are preserved to create a social basis, where family, life and happiness can be sustainably achieved. They are a very disciplined society, where order and punctuality do not generate distance and coldness. At least that was not my experience of Japan. Mine was an experience of warmth, consideration and respect.
I could also describe all the modern architecture that I've seen, but it didn't strike me as much as their ancient temples, palaces and shrines. The peace of mind created by some of these places, and its unique landscape, are something of an art form. The materials, the craftsmanship and the atmosphere all combine to provide for a unique feeling of quality.
We have been to Tokyo, Yokohama, Kyoto and Osaka. Some of the highlights were Tokyo's fish market, the biggest in the world, a 5am surreal experience! The Gonpachi restaurant was the inspiration for Kill Bill's crazy 88 scene. A fantastic venue for our last dinner party. Yokohama's port was tremendous!
Still, Kyoto was my favourite. Spotting Geishas on those tiny beautiful streets, walking through temples and the amazing Nijo castle, the Togukawa Shogun's home. Not to mention the weather, absolutely delicious!
We were big in Japan, and Japan is now big in me. Going back will be a matter of time. And for those of you who think it's an expensive place, well... I guess you've never lived in London...
PS - Since I came back, everybody seems to be so fat!
12 Jumps for 12 months of sights and smiles.
somewhere in Paris
Idem
Tharros, Sardinia
Somewhere in Sardinia, Italy
Barcelona
Casa Milá
Buenos Aires
Sala de Uyuni, Bolivia
Machu Picchu
Barlavento, Algarve
Berlin
Amsterdam
Time to look back to the 2007 concerts, and select the ones who provided me with the best experience, the best memories and the best performances!
After careful consideration, I came up with a top 5:
Miss congeniality goes to:
ROGER WATERS at Barcelona. The crowd was one of the best ever, and the weekend was good fucking fun! Thanks Marcos!
Miss Photogenic goes to:
GENESIS. The best stage of the season. Great shots and great special effects. A pleasure to look at. (Too bad I was so damn far back!...)
Runner-Up 2:
NINE INCH NAILS. They were good! I didn't expect such a good show and had a great time.
Runner-up 1:
GARY MOORE. The man plays guitar! It's like the devil possesses him for 2 hours, and he gives it all...
And the winner is:
GOGOL BORDELLO. Sines festival. Summer. Hot, by the sea. Great atmosphere. They played inside the castle... and thick walls they had to be, for such a powerful show! They totally blew me away. It was a performance for the ages...
May the force be with 2008.
LAW AND DISORDERComo membro activo e interessado da sociedade britânica, achei curioso o estudo que li recentemente sobre as leis mais bizarras da ilha.
Aparentemente é proibido ocupar um lugar no Parlamento vestindo uma armadura (deve ser duro para um lorde ter de abdicar da confortável e leve armadura por algo tão bárbaro como um fato).
Mas mais curioso do que isto, é o facto de ser ainda mais proibido morrer-se nesse lugar, sob pena de ser-se detido ("ainda mais" proibido. Gosto do detalhe. E de facto é um grande contratempo ir parar á esquadra no dia do funeral).
Mas nem tudo são proibições ou inibições, afinal, uma mulher grávida pode urinar no capacete de um polícia (isto é uma informação útil para qualquer inglesa bem fornecida de bife, a caminho de casa depois do pub).
No 'reino do absurdo', está também classificada a obrigação que têm todos os escoceses de abrir a porta de casa a qualquer pessoa que precise urgentemente de utilizar a casa-de-banho (sempre gostei destes tipos).
É também de destacar a permissão de matar um escocês nos muros da antiga cidade de York. Mas somente com arco e flechas! (que grande lata! Estes ingleses não aceitam uma piadinha que seja. Séculos de opressão e quando recebem o troco.... por outro lado, que divertido seria poder matar um espanhol nos muros da Sé da Guarda, mas só lhe podíamos acertar com Kinder buenos, seat marbellas ou dvds do Verão Azul...).
A minha favorita é no entanto a lei que dita que colar um selo com a imagem da rainha de cabeça para baixo é considerado um acto de traição (o charme do correio tradicional ganhou nova dimensão).
Hà ainda a lei que permite a uma mulher trabalhar com o peito descoberto se for empregada de uma loja de espécies tropicais em Liverpool (esta escuso-me a comentar, e acho que foi tirada do "sem penas" do Woody Allen. Só pode!).
Um breve momento de reflexão sobre a reciclagem.
No outro dia encontrei lá em casa, na lata reservada ao papel para reciclar, o "The Sun", infame jornal britânico, mais famoso pelas mamas da terceira pagina e pelas fotos dos paparazzi do que pela analise da crise no Médio Oriente ou a recente quebra do dólar.
Pasmei. Mas será que eu quero viver num mundo onde se recicla o The Sun?! Será que queremos mesmo que algumas atrocidades da nossa sociedade sejam guardadas para as futuras gerações, nem que na forma de bicarbonato de sódio? Pois com certeza que não! E pergunto-me, talvez seja tempo de repensar esta estratégia global de sustentabilidade que nos aconchega a consciência, e parar para pensar no que NÃO QUEREMOS ver reciclado. Não haverão produtos que, dado o escárnio e a gonorreia que provocam nas nossas mentes, sejam dignos candidatos a uma cremação rápida e segura, assegurando-nos assim que partículas outrora conspurcadas pelo conceito ou pela palavra venham mais tarde a fazer a sua aparição, quem sabe no papel higiénico que protege os nossos mais íntimos recantos de dignidade?
Aqui ficam algumas proposta para o que NÃO deve ser reciclado:
TRIP AND JOURNEYTrip and Journey. Here’s a couple of words so easily confused. I love to travel, as in «going on a trip», but I only return totally fulfilled if the trip becomes a journey. And sometimes, I don’t even need to go on a trip to start a journey. Sometimes the journey is within myself, which of course is a much cheaper way to travel…
A journey can also be a great book. And there is no book I’d rather read than a good story about a trip that became a journey! Sepulveda does it magically. Kerouak made a classic out of his memories on the road… When you meet the people and you feel the beat and you enjoy the move and you breathe the air and you smell the street and you talk the jive and you show no fear of showing your fears, then you are there, way over there, on the edge of a journey! Usually, when you return, all your friends ask you about your trip. Keep an eye on those who ask you about your journey. Keep them close…
Desde giovanotto que me lembro de determinadas expressões do meu pai que, ao longo dos anos, foram ganhando novos significados, mais profundos por vezes, e sobretudo uma dimensão humorística que continuamente conhece novas expansões.
Compilei algumas destas “máximas” que passo a citar:
Londres fascina-me. (contrariamente a de arroz de polvo...)
O verdadeiramente apaixonante, no entanto, não se esconde nas fachadas dos edifícios nem nos recantos intrigantes dos infinitos parques que fazem desta cidade um hino ao sol, esse Deus sublime, que nos visita com a frivolidade de uma criança mimada.
Quis começar a gummavitta.com com uma palavra ao mesmo tempo poderosa e intrigante, capaz de suscitar o tipo de convulsão social e entusiasmo erudito dignos de um golpe de estado na América do Sul. Depois de dias de cuidada ponderação, decidi-me por "quis".
Nunca nos devemos esquecer que as soluções mais simples são invariavelmente as melhores. Alegadamente, a NASA gastou mais de 11 milhões de dólares (na altura) no desenvolvimento de uma caneta especial capaz de escrever em ambiente de gravidade zero. A agencia espacial russa enviou os seus cosmonautas para o espaço com um lápis.
Dá que pensar? Aqui os pensamentos e a imaginação encontram um espaço. Estejam à vontade.
Carpe Diem.
A simple idea
Wanting to start gummavitta.com with a word both powerfull and intriguing, capable of generating the type of social phenomenon and intellectual enthusiasm reminiscent of any South American power takeover, I have spent days of long consideration. I decided to use “wanting”.
We should never forget that the simplest solution is invariably the best. Reportedly, NASA spent over $11m( at the time), on developing a special pen that could work in zero gravity. The Russian equivalent space Agency sent their Cosmonauts into space with a pencil.
Makes you think? Here thoughts and creations find a space. Make yourselves at home.
Carpe Diem.
