Pióro

In Toronto, I was never offered pot. Never. I say this because every time Mar and I walk through the main squares of Lisbon, we are offered hash. Countless times a man would walk by, and quietly blurt out “’ash?” In the time it took him to utter that syllable, he’d flash a chunk the [...]

ANDALUCIA—Tired of not meeting anyone in Toronto? Go to Spain. Hear locals say, “You too? You’re lying. Everyone says they are from Canada.” Sit in the common room of your pension with five other as one says, “So, are we all Canadians then?” Nod in agreement. Go to a flamenco show in Seville and reminisce [...]

Arriving in Seville, we found out that the way the hostels work, is that they quote you one price on the phone to get you hooked, and once you show up, tired, dirty, and ready to crash… oops, that room isn’t available, but you can have this one that is more expensive.
So we decided to [...]

A few days ago, Mar and I were at the Mosteiro des Jeronimos in Lisbon. This 17th century monastery has a great courtyard. Full on Manueline architecture. We were wandering around with. Mar was taking pictures. She then turned to me and said, “I wish those garbage cans weren’t there.” I could understand. Although the [...]

I’ve been wondering about the difference between a traveller and a tourist and how you differentiate one from the other. The romantic in me definitely wants to become a traveller. After all, the word does have better connotations. However, the cynic in me says there isn’t really a difference between the two. The romantic would [...]

We were at Cabo Roca yesterday (I think that was what it was called).
The most western point on continental Europe. Very, very high up. On a cliff. No guard rails. Not even a sign saying “be careful”, or “watch your step” or “don’t stand so close to the edge, what are you crazy?!”
I love Europe.

Portugal breeds strong calf muscles. My mind and eyes are saying “Yes. Yes. More!” while my legs and feet are threatening mutiny. ‘Spose I better get used to it.

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 [...]

So we arrived at the French customs kiosk. I had filled out my Disembarkment papers incorrectly. There was a place that asked for the last airport. I didn’t know if the form wanted the previous airport or my final airport. I chose the latter.
“Sorry, that should be Pittsburgh. Not de Gaule.”
The customs guys sighed heavily [...]

Paris is absolutely small bladder friendly… I give it five flushes.
I got some good rock-out pictures of Pioro in front of some familiar landmarks, just got to figure out how to up-load the photos…
Unfortunately we have to leave in a few hours, and have a 20 hr train ride to Lisbon to look forward to.