The Single Most Compelling Thing I Can Say

Photo from lopie’s photostream.

On Sunday in the cablecar carpark, after we had finished our walk, a French-Swiss woman approached us. The battery on her Alpha Romeo convertable had gone flat and she was wondering if we could help. A three-way language exchange later (Lisa was instructing Ned and I in French..?) we had the leads worked out and the car going. The reason I’m telling this mundane story is this: the women gave us 20 francs for our help! In short, I will be loitering around Swiss carparks from now on, weilding a set of jumper leads to earn myself some cold hard cash!

Ah, it’s good to be back! I came to Switzerland as a bright, young thing nearly ten years ago. When I was 16, I did a student exchange with AFS to the Swiss Canton of St. Gallen. It changed my life! I learnt so much about another culture; the people and their culture but mainly, I learnt so much about myself. I definately did not peak in High School, and coming away was such a boost to my pimply-faced confidence. No one knew who my parents were, whether I was smart or dumb, if I had pissed my pants in Kindie. It was a fresh start. And people liked me for me! I learnt to trust myself and my abilities and I got through a year on the other side of the world all by myself.

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You! Yes you, I say! No raw meat products in the park; you’ll frighten all the young ladies away!

While I was waiting for Ned in the park at our D.M.S. (Designated Meeting Spot - remember the days before mobile phones and you decided on a place and time to meet before parting ways?) and he was late. I lay down for a little nap, and when I sat up to check the time, there was a guy standing a little way away, under the trees…having a wank! Needless to say, I packed up quick smart and made an executive group decision that the D.M.S. was to change location, NOW. Well, hello there Madrid. I thought the only spicy, fat-laced sausage I was to encounter on this trip would be kri-vaked in the meat isle!

Niko guilted me into joining Twitter. He gave me a lecture in Lisbon, something along the lines of, “I can’t believe you work in advertising and haven’t joined Twitter yet!” he then would have spat on the floor if it wasn’t his living room. My excuse was that I’m not interested in other people’s tea consumption and bowel movements, but apparently it’s so much more than that. Wow, it’s really embarrassing admitting my ignorance here, but hey, that’s what the internet is for isn’t it? Proclaiming your idiocy? Anyway, you can follow me here: http://twitter.com/lindseynicholls

Ned and I needed to get to Madrid in order to catch out next Oneworld flight on the 23rd of June. It appeared we had three options. All with their own pros and cons.

1) Fly with Ryaniar. Pro: Cheap (AUD$60). Con: Flying with Ryaniar.

2) Catch a bus. Pro: Not flying with Ryanair. Con: Ten hours. More expensive than flying.

3) Catch a train. Pro: Not flying with Ryanair. Con: Have to go all the way back to Lisbon. Takes ages. More expensive than flying with Ryanair.

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And the Supermarket Tour of Europe continues. I convinced Ned we needed to spend fifeteen cents more on tuna so I could get the stuff in the pretty tins. But more on our self-catered adventures later.

On Ned’s birthday, Sunday, we (actually I: Ned was past making rational decisions in his disgustingly hungover state) decided it was time to make a break up North. A mini-break. So off we go from Porto for a little coastal holiday. The guys from the hostel helped out with a campsite 40 minutes out of Porto that we could get to on the Metro. It would be a little walk from the station, no biggie.

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Photo by Ned.

Porto is my new favourite place. I feel really disloyal to Lisbon for saying this, and I hope we can still be friends, but Porto has stolen my Portugal-loving heart.

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brookecourtney’s photostream.

Dear Ned,
Happy birthday, Love! I’m sorry you woke up with a horrid hangover. I hope you really didn’t want to die. I’m enjoying our trip so far and it would be a boring for me if you did. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the two bowls of cereal you ate when we got home at 5am, but perhaps all the beer, champagne and shots consumed earlier that made you feel so rotten.

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We just spent four days longer than planned staying at Porto Spot Hostel. We booked in for one night and then stayed another, and another…we just couldn’t being ourselves to leave the damned place! This is seriously the BEST HOSTEL I HAVE EVER STAYED AT. I am so passionate about what the guys have done with it that I FEEL THE NEED TO CAPITALISE.

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Some students heading to their graduation; cutting through the Botanical Gardens. I can’t decide whether I have the Paper Scissor’s song, “We Don’t Walk” (from Underbelly Season 1) or the Matrix theme tune in my head. Please hum to yourselves whichever you deem more appropriate.

We just spent 3 days in Coimbra, home to 20,000 students. We certainly didn’t see that many. A few were out and about for graduation ceremonies (how nifty are their outfits? They topped them off with long black cloaks, decorated with as many sewn-on badges as a travelling Canadian’s backpack) but most were in hiding and studying for exams. It was a nice town, I guess, I just found it eerily quiet!

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Photo by Ned, clever boy!
It’s amazing how quickly one can become accustomed to a place, to the point of it feeling like home. As quickly as I could turn my nose up at us being given a valance to use as our bed sheet, Ned and I have gotten into a solid routine.

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We walked up the highest mountain in Portugal and my highlight was taking this picture of a petrified mole. Especially after watching Fantastic Mr. Fox on the plane, Mole’s jaunty pose, (very definitely manhandled; he was dead-stiff with a smile on his face, how could  we resist?!) it just cracks me up.  Ned’s going to be so pissed off with me for saying that was my favourite bit!

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