My Portugal Diary: Day 5

Day 5 Saturday 19 June, 2004

Almost immediately after I decided to go to the beach at Costa da Capparica did I notice that it turned a bit overcast. This could be the only chance for me to get some tan! The sun has been strong in the last two days, just walking in the town yesterday already give me a bit bronzage. Don't tell me the sun would shy away when I really want to be bathed in it.

Started the day with an uphill stroll to the Castello de Sao Phillipe, which is now converted to a "pousada" (I think it should mean bar + restaurant). The hotel receptionist warned me that it wouldn't be too easy to walk up there. It was a bit breath consuming, but I managed ok. Almost felt that I'm back to my walking best, the form I obviously lost after moving back to Beijing. Isn't life too comfortable in Beijing that I'm not motivated at all to walk long distance?

Got to the bus station just in time to miss the bus to Cacillas, where I should change for another bus for the beaches. The next bus is 1h30 later! Brilliant! Now I'll just have to sit in the cafe next to the bus station, doing some reading maybe, after finishing this paragraph.

Now, after reading the LP for about an hour, I suddenly feel a sense of anxiety creeping into my heart. Have I wasted too much time wandering around without seeing what I "should" see? Counting the days left, do I still have time to see and feel what I "should" see and feel? Or, maybe I should have saved those two days in London for Portugal instead? I'm truly a very very bad planner—what an irony on the job I'm paid for! However, as a consolation at least, I say to myself: I came for the football, and anything else I experienced on the way, seen, felt, eaten, whatever, would be a bonus. I made a rule to myself before the trip: I'll not do any museums or galleries this time, because: 1) I'm not an artist, and shall never make one given my quality, or the lack of it rather; 2) my artistic education is already better than the average; 3) what I really enjoy are good books, good music, good films, good food, good beer and wine, none of which can be got from the museums.

6 Hours Later:

Got to the beach after all, could be any beach though. It is said to be 8 miles long, think I covered about half on foot, in addition to sleeping for about an hour on the "family" section. The gay section and nudist section are pretty much mingled, or so I noticed. Was in my swimming trunk when walking past the nudist section, the "inhabitants" didn't seem to be offended since I didn't get any cat calls. Meanwhile there were also other clothed sun-bathers. So I kept my last piece of cloth on. But the real, utmost, fundamental, critical reason for my "prudence" is that, amongst all the nudists on the beach, none can be remotely associated with the image of sexy girl—graceful granny is nearer to reality. So there is no point for me to "sacrifice" my only differentiator and to be viewed as "one of them"

When coming back to Lisbon and settling down at the youth hostel booked yesterday, I was amazed to find there was a shower IN the dorm! Too much of a luxury really!

Had a bit of difficulty in finding a screen nearby. Caught a couple of minutes of the first half after sitting down in a bar. Holland were leading Czech Republic 2:1 at half time. I'm pretty neutral towards these two countries, but the choice is obvious between Baros and Smicer on one side and van Nistelrooy on the other. Then Czech Republic staged a fantastic comeback in the second half and beat the Dutch by 3:2! And Baros was awesome, scoring a goal that would grace any match, plus Smicer also got himself on the scoreline. Hope Baros' form can continue next season when puts on the red shirt playing for Liverpool. Out of excitement, I decided to explore Lisbon's nightlife one day earlier than planned: I reserved it for tomorrow originally. Found a great bar up at the hill, which, invariably, was swamped by the English fans, who mingled merrily with the small group of Croats.

On the way back, I came across a street gathering of the Spanish fans in Praca Rossio. The Iberian derby has begun.