Globalisation and Constipation
When Mar and I arrived in Lisbon, after an over-night train ride (love the couchette), we were feeling a little, hum, corked. Martha thinks it was due to the magnesium enriched bottled water we picked up in Paris. Anyway we needed to do something. And what get’s the body movin’ better than Rotten Ronnie’s. So I went to one of the main squares in Rossio, in the centre of Lisbon, to the Golden Arches. Two Big Mac meals later, I was hurrying back to the pensao, hoping I wasn’t attracting too many disdainful glances.
When I walked in to the pensao, there were two construction workers or labourers doing some tile-work. The older one made many noise of disapproval. The one I understood was “Merde!” I responded in my best French that I knew it was merde, but I needed something fast. He said something to the effect of, “Well of course shit is fast.” I don’t think he knew how close to the truth I hoped he was.
After some chit-chat (he thought I was from Belgium!), he said he’d take me to a true Portuguese restaurant. Still hasn’t happened yet, but we’ll see.