29-30/06/2004
Portugal Bratwurst

I am still waiting for the love in my hate-love affair with Portugal.
Upon arriving yesterday around midnight on what I thought to be the Portugese counterpart of Tarifa -the Cabo de São Vicente, I felt like Arthur Dent in Adam's The Hitch Hiker's Guide. Somewhat suspicious by the meaningless chain of trafic lights -coming from Andalucia already a major culture shock- I was ready for anything except of course: reality.
On the Cabo a German crew was shooting an amazingly boring football watching scene in front of Die Lätzte Bratwurst.vor Amerika. They had a satelite dish with them. So there they were, on a cliff 30 meter high above the ocean, doing a bloody night shoot...
And this was the second time I ran into these guys!
The first time I didn't know it was a shoot, but having witnessed one, I am not about to change my opinion.
If Nietszche were to turn in his grave, he would have worn himself a tunnel halfway the center of the Earth by now.

So l left the Cabo and went to sleep on some nicely arranged parking lot between clean hotels, restaurants and more nicely arranged hotels, all in neo-regional building style, not too high, not too close one upon another,all freshly painted, a true heaven for any German tourist who wants to spend his holiday driving back and forth from it in a small rental car with a Portugese flag attached to it -football related I suppose- to a quiet beach hidden at the bottom of the cliffs, where really cool surfers and nice families share the clean sand BECAUSE THERE ARE NO DOGS ALLOWED ON THE BEACH.
So they don't like dogs do they?
I've also seen more road signs saying 'beware of the cows' than cows. Actually I haven't seen a cow at all.
This must be a higly civilized region then.
Not much chance of seeing images like these.

And whilst trying to get the hell out of there, first I got lost -once you leave the overorganised and overindicated coastal roads you end up in a half burnt uninspiring army training waste land where roads look like they've had tanks driving on them for the last ten years and where road signs are a mere joke meaning I found myself using the sun as a compass which is an astoundingly efficient way of wasting the best part of the evering on evertwisting roads with no chance of some nice cornering- and then I finally found myself on a tollway.
What was indicated on my 4 year old Michelin map as a regular road, had changed into a tollroad.
A tollroad.
Without an alternative going the same direction.
As far as I know in France, Spain and in Switzerland they never charge unless you have an alternative or unless it is a very, very serious tunnel or record breaking bridge.
Not in this country.
And in 24hrs I had to show my ID twice -I am still waiting for the first time in Spain- once to get in the country and once to get an hour of free internet acces -some EEC supported project-, which was the only way to get on line.

This doesn't mean of course that Portugal isn't a great country with a great cultural heritage -look alone at wat Brasil gave us: Isaura and Sepultura, those tattood etnic thrashmetal guys who were popular for an album or two some years ago.
And if I feel like a complete idiot because I can't communicate with the locals - I can't wait to learn another language which is spoken in about five countries worldwide- that is entirely my problem, I mean look at the English and Germans, they adapt so well, continuing to speak their own language of course.
So definitely a great nation, and I hope it keeps welcoming plainloads of beach lovers who left their dog at home.

Spent the night on the hills near the enormous -dammed I assume- Rio Guadiana, close to the Spanish border. I stayed high enough above the water and I took a shower just before going to sleep so I only got one little mosquito visitor.