So if you'll hold my hand, we both shall walk more steadily

So if you'll hold my hand, we both shall walk more steadily

So if you'll hold my hand

My first full day in Lisbon. The day sunny and there were clear blue skies so I was determined to make the most of it. The temperature was in the mid teens, shorts weather for me, trousers and coat weather for the locals. I knew I would look like a tourist but I was used to that after nearly 10 months of travelling. I had coffee and breakfast at Dirceu and Andre’s. They hadn’t surfaced by the time I left (although I was out the door before 9am) so I left a note saying I had gone out for the day and would see them later. I headed out for a walk armed with a map of the city, my camera, Dean & Horse, Ramon and Jango. 

The Botanical Gardens were the first thing on my itinerary for the day, handily located just at the end of the road I was staying on. I hadn’t done any research on whether they were worth a visit but I figured for the €2 entrance fee I could take a gamble on them being worth it. I seemed to have the Gardens to myself for quite a while and enjoyed the peace and quiet as I walked around taking photos of various plants and trees that looked slightly rude (at least to me). I spent about an hour or so at the Gardens, timing my departure to coincide the arrival of what seemed like, from the noise levels, several hundred schoolchildren.

I wandered down through the centre of Lisbon taking in the little cobbled streets and tiled buildings, through the large Rossio square with its patterned pavements bringing back memories of Rio de Janeiro and up to the Castelo de São Jorge. I’d been to the Castelo on my previous visit to Lisbon with Rui but we had spent the time walking round chatting rather than actual sightseeing before stopping at the café for a drink. This time I did it the tourist way, collecting the guide from the office on the way in and reading up on the history of the place. The highlight of the visit however was seeing a peacock up a tree at the Castelo who had clearly taken a dislike to some tourists and pooping on one of them.

After a late lunch in the sun I wandered back through the town before heading back to Dirceu and Andre’s. Once back I checked my messages. Some family friends had sent a message saying they would soon be on holiday down in the south of Spain and I would be more than welcome to join them. I checked my itinerary. After Lisbon I was headed to Madrid where I had a gay lined up. I then had a bit of a gap until my next gay who I would be staying with in in Italy. I worked out I could probably fit in a quick trip to Granada, then see the family friends and head back up to Barcelona for a couple of days. I set about booking travel between the various places using Skyscanner to check for the best prices. The prices for flights from Madrid to Granada seemed to be ridiculously expensive and I couldn’t see why. It took me a while to realise I was looking at flights to Grenada, not Granada. How I had gone 9 months without ending up in the wrong place on my travels was beyond me.

By the time the travel admin was all sorted it was early evening and the sun was just starting to set. I grabbed my camera and headed out to get some photos of the sun setting. I arrived back just as Dirceu and Andre were getting home. They asked me if I had plans for the evening, which I didn’t. They suggested a meal at home and Dirceu and I headed to the supermarket to get what we needed. We chatted quite a bit over a lovely home cooked dinner. Every now and again Dirceu and Andre would switch back into Portuguese to discuss something. It can be quite a harsh sounding language and I felt the need to check a couple of times if everything was ok as it sounded like they were arguing.

We both shall walk more steadily 

The next day I was up and out early again and I was off to the National Museum of Ancient Art, taking a route that would take me past the Palácio de São Bento, the Portuguese parliament building. The route took me down a couple of quite steep streets. I was so busy looking at the architecture of the buildings that I didn’t notice someone had been watering their plants and that the pavement was wet. Shiny, cobbled steep Lisbon street + water on said shiny cobbles = me sliding downhill for a good 10 feet, one leg behind me, arms outstretched to regain my balance, looking like an ice skater coming to the end of a routine. I was more than a little disappointed that the two old ladies stood at the bus stop watching me slide downhill didn't hold up scorecards once I came to a halt. I think I was at least a 5.9 for artistic impression.

The Museum kept me busy for a couple of hours and then I headed up to the Basílica da Estrela and the gardens, then on to Rato where I picked up a mini picnic at the supermarket and headed to the Parque Eduardo VII to find myself a sunny spot to sit in for another late lunch. I found a spot away from the crowds, had lunch and then a little siesta. I headed home, calling in at the supermarket to pick something up for dinner as I knew Dirceu and Andre were out in the evening so I would be left to my own devices. I had a chilled evening and was not far off heading to bed when Dirceu and Andre arrived home. Dirceu told me he had the following day off and was free in the morning so if I liked we could head out for Pastéis de Belém. It was top of my to do list for Lisbon so I went to bed dreaming about them.

  

“So if you'll hold my hand, we both shall walk more steadily” 
Lyrics from Hold my Hand from the musical Me and My Girl

But here I learn

But here I learn
It was already my final night in Tavira with Timmy. He had arranged an evening out in town, meeting up with Philip and another friend of his, Caroline, for drinks and dinner. Caroline was English so I didn't have to worry about any language barriers. We walked into town from Timmy's place, and the evening was warm enough for us to sit outside while we had a drink. I opted for a G&T, realising it was the first one I had had since setting back off on my travels. Dinner was at a restaurant called Brisas del Rio, which I managed to translate myself ("River breezes"). The name sparked a memory of one of my favourite words in Spanish which I had learned in my childhood studies (some twenty odd years earlier). "Limpiaparabrisas" - a windscreen wiper, had stuck with me since Spanish GCSE. I'm not sure why as a 15 year old who couldn't drive I needed to learn that particular word as part of my vocabulary homework but learn it I had and it had stuck in my memory. Even now as a 35 year old who couldn't drive I'm not sure it would be coming in helpful any time soon.

I started dinner with a goat’s cheese, apple and nut salad drizzled with honey. It had the word salad in it so it had to be healthy. My main was, I was assured, a typical Portuguese dish of pork and clams. It had been recommended by the rather attractive waiter who was serving our table. Who was I to disagree? His recommendation was spot on, the dish was really tasty and soon my plate was empty save for the clam shells. Dinner conversation revolved mainly around which waiter everyone round the table thought was the cutest. There was some disagreement and it got a little heated, with a glass of water being accidentally knocked over (naming no names) by someone pointing out the waiter they would quite happily go home with. The evening was rounded off with “one for the road” at a little bar just up from the restaurant. The road was a little longer than planned and I was certainly tipsy by the time we walk home. I packed my case when I got home so I would be ready for leaving in the morning.

I make new friends

My next stop was Lisbon. Gays 70 & 71, Dirceu and Andre, were a couple I had met through my friend Rui a couple of years previously. I had arranged a weekend in Lisbon to visit Rui and it coincided with a half marathon race he was doing, along with Dirceu and Andre. They signed me up for it as well. The race took in some of the less glamorous parts of Lisbon but avoided a lot of the hills, which given the temperature was approaching 30C I was most pleased about. I'd already warned the others that they may be waiting for a little while at the finish line for me to finish. As expected, I'd lost sight of them a few minutes in. My pace, which started as a brisk run, had slowed to a steady jog by mile ten. The last mile or so was on cobbled streets and I found running on them a bit tough. I think my pace by that point would be most accurately described as a “power mince”. I finished in a respectable 1 hour and 45 minutes though and when I checked later on the results website I was pleased to see that whilst a couple of thousand people crossed the line quicker than me I was the fastest runner from Great Britain (yes, I was the only runner from Great Britain so technically the slowest too but that's not quite so impressive). After the race we had a couple of drinks on a terrace overlooking the city where I got to properly meet Direceu and Andre. After heading back to Rui's to shower, change and have something to eat we met up with Dirceu and Andre again for some more drinks and a spot of clubbing. I have vague memories of us trying to do the Beyoncé Single Ladies dance. The following day I could barely walk. I blamed the running rather than the dancing.

Having done our goodbyes I was dropped off Faro train station by Timmy. I was a little hungover from the night before so needed caffeine and something stodgy to eat. There was a little café to the side of the station selling coffee and some sort of pastries. I had no idea what was in the pastry, whether it was sweet or savoury but I figured it would do the trick. I pointed at the item, held up one finger to indicate the quantity and smiled. As the lady behind the counter placed the item into a small paper bag for me I revised the number of fingers I was holding up, figuring it was a 3 hour train journey so I would probably need another later on. I grabbed a bottle of water too. I managed an “obrigado” as I paid and was given my breakfast. I ate the first one so quick I wasn’t entirely sure what the filling was. I put the second one into my bag for lunch.

The train journey to Lisbon from Faro was pleasant enough. I'd splashed out on a first class ticket and had the carriage virtually to myself. I put my case into the luggage space and my backpack on the seat opposite. The train had barely left Faro station before I got the other pastry out of my bag and ate it. So much for keeping that for my lunch. I sat watching the scenery go by for a little while before I rested my eyes for a while. Before I knew it we were approaching Lisbon. I’d been given a set of directions on how to get to the subway station where Andre would come and meet me. Despite getting off the train a stop early (thankfully still in Lisbon and connected to the subway, albeit not the one I needed to be on) I managed to find my way to the right place and texted Andre. A few minutes later I saw him approaching. He insisted on taking my case and we walked back to his. He explained that Dirceu was in bed as he had just flown back from Japan but that he would be up later and we would have dinner at theirs once he was awake.

Andre showed me my room, gave me a tour of the flat and told me to make myself at home. He gave me the wifi password, which allowed me to sort out some future travel plans. I had just had confirmation through from a friend of a friend that he could host me in Madrid. That would be Gay 72. I already had another 5 Gays lined up to host me in various places around Europe so I only had to find a few more to complete my 80. Fairly soon I would have the rest of the trip all planned out.

Dirceu woke late afternoon, came and said hello, and then disappeared again. He came back with a coffee for us both and we caught up on our respective lives since we had last seen each other while Andre set about cooking dinner. Over dinner we chatted about the various things I could see and do while in Lisbon. The only thing on my must do list was go to for Pastéis de Belém, the little Portuguese custard tarts. We had gone there the day before we did the half marathon on my previous visit. I had eaten about a half dozen I think, telling myself it would count as carb loading ahead of the race. I could already taste them. I was ready for my Lisbon adventures to begin.

“But here I learn, I meet new friends” 
Lyrics from The Harvard Variations from the musical Legally Blonde the Musical

Climb every mountain

Climb every mountain

The next morning I woke late. I took myself downstairs. Timmy was working and Philip had already headed off. I figured I should ease myself back into my travels slowly so I spent the rest of the morning listening to the radio, sunbathing and snoozing in equal measures, breaking off every now and again to get myself another coffee from the complicated little machine in the kitchen. Around lunchtime Timmy came out to the pool and filled me in on the plan for the rest of the day. He had a couple of conference calls to do and then we would be headed to the supermarket to pick up some things for dinner before heading up to his house in the mountains for dinner. Paulo would be joining us and we would stay over so I needed to pack my toothbrush and some clean pants. After a spot of lunch and some more sunbathing I decided to have a little dip in the pool. Timmy was sat out on one of the sun loungers, taking one of his conference calls poolside so I kept my splashing about to a minimum.

  

Once Timmy had finished his work (and I was no longer in just swimwear) we set off for the supermarket, stocking up on the ingredients for dinner. I left Timmy collecting the things on his list and had a wander round to see what was on offer. I bought a couple of bottles of wine for with dinner, pushing the boat out and selecting ones at €6 instead of the €2 bottles. We paid for the shopping, loaded up the car and then set off for the mountains. Within five minutes we had left the town behind and were making our way up the winding road. The house is situated right at the top of the mountain, with a dozen or so houses dotted either side of the road just before it peters out. It has some spectacular views of the countryside with a line of telegraph poles being the only visible signs of civilisation.

Philip was already at the house when we arrived and I was handed a glass of wine before I had even had a chance to set my bag down. That’s the sort of hospitality I could get used to. It had been a few years since I had last visited so whilst Timmy unpacked the shopping I was given a tour of the place by Philip. Timmy joined us on the terrace out the back and we sat enjoying the wine and sunset as we caught up on our respective days. Timmy and Philip headed in a little while later to sort out dinner, declining my offer to help out.

I decided the terrace with the setting sun in the background would make a nice little spot for Dean and Ramon to have their first official touring photo together. After 9 months of taking photos of Dean (and sometimes Horse) in front of famous landmarks I had got used to setting them up for photos in front of famous landmarks, usually while being watched by bemused tourists. It was easy when there was just one model in the photo but I would have to learn how to best set up the shot for a group photo. It took me a little while as Jango (Ramon’s police dog) seemed a little unsteady on his feet and kept falling over. To get the photo I wanted I was pretty much laid flat across the terrace.

As I was getting up and dusting myself down I noticed Paulo had arrived and was stood watching me from the doorway, a slight look of bemusement on his face. I smiled and said “Olá”. How do you describe to a deaf Portuguese guy who doesn’t speak English that you are taking photos of toy policemen that your friends bought you as travel companions when you don’t speak Portuguese or know any sign language? I did my best to try to explain using a few gestures and basic words but settled on showing Paulo the photos of Dean in various places around the world. He smiled and nodded in what I hoped was an expression of him understanding. It could equally have been him just trying to get away from the weirdo with the tiny policemen friends, showing him photos of them like a proud father would show off baby photos. I was saved from any more awkward gesturing and Paulo was saved from me by an announcement that dinner was nearly ready.

A delicious dinner accompanied by my €6 wine followed, during which conversation was a mix of English for me and Philip, Timmy and Paulo speaking in Portuguese and a bit of charades from all of us as we tried to cross the language barrier. After dinner we watched the BBC news, a little reminder of home, before retiring to our respective bedrooms. The house and the surroundings were pretty quiet at night, giving me a small insight into what it must be like for Paulo not being able to hear anything at all. Despite the apparent silence I could still make out the occasional noise – the whir of the refrigerator or the bark of a dog somewhere in the village. I drifted off to sleep listening to the buzz of an insect.

The next morning I was up and out of bed fairly early, aided by the sound of a rooster who lived a couple of doors down announcing the new morning. I headed to the kitchen where Philip was already up and making inroads into the dishes from the previous evening. I grabbed a tea towel and started drying up the dishes he had washed. Fairly soon we had finished them all and attention turned to coffee. The smell of the coffee and some pastries for breakfast warming in the oven roused the others. After a leisurely breakfast we packed up to head back down the mountain, a little three car convey snaking back down towards Tavira.

Ford every stream

Once back at the house I went for a little swim before getting showered and changed. Timmy suggested going to have lunch in a little place down by the beach. He had work to do in the afternoon but Philip and I could spend the afternoon on the beach as the weather was pleasant enough. The beach at Tavira is reached by walking across a little bridge over the lagoon to get from the mainland to an island. To get to the beach from the bridge it is then about a ten minute walk, or for the princely sum of €1 there is a miniature railway train that shuttles beachgoers back and forth. There was no train at the “station” when we arrived so we set off walking.

Lunch consisted of a massive tuna salad and a beer for me. After Timmy left us Philip and I headed for a walk along the beach. As it was only mid March it was relatively quiet, the tourists would start arriving in another month or so. We walked quite a way along the beach, during which time we came across the massive body of a dead turtle. We also hit the nudist section of the beach which was thankfully pretty empty although there was one older man showing off everything as he sunbathed. There are some bits of your body that were not meant to see sunlight like that.  The sight of that meant we had to stop for another beer at the café where we had had lunch before we headed back home.

“Climb every mountain, ford every stream” 
Lyrics from Climb Ev’ry Mountain from the musical The Sound of Music

Someone is waiting

Someone is waiting

I was back at the airport after a whirlwind three-week visit back home, cramming in trips to see family and friends in various parts of the country, as if I hadn’t done enough travelling in the previous nine months. At least this time I didn’t have to lug my huge suitcase round with me everywhere. The break from travelling had also given me a chance to sort out most of my travel plans for the final two-ish months of my travels. I only needed to stay with a dozen more gays to get me to the magical number of 80, which meant that I would have more free time to explore some of Europe on my own. I already had a number of offers from friends, friends of friends and people I had met earlier in my travels so had a rough idea of where I would be and when for the first few weeks after setting back off. Knowing that I would reach my target was warmly satisfying. I couldn’t have done it without the network of amazing & hospitable friends I’m fortunate enough to have.

As I made my way to the departure gate I reflected back on how I had felt leaving at the start of my trip. I felt different this time, I felt more like I was just going on holiday. Maybe it was because I was only going to be away for a couple of months instead of nine, maybe it was because I was going to be in Europe so knew I would only ever be a few hours away from home, maybe it was because I had become a lot more confident over the last nine months of travelling. Maybe it was because I hadn’t done a days work in nearly a year so I was feeling very relaxed. Maybe it was because I’d already had a gin at the airport (yes, it was still morning but I had it with orange juice to make it breakfasty). Whatever the reason it was time to get on with it and I boarded the plane.

My first stop on the European leg of my trip was a town called Tavira on the Algarve, a short drive from Faro where I would be flying into. A friend of mine, Timmy, had moved over there a few years ago and had agreed to host me. I had been over to visit him a few times before in the past but hadn’t been to his new place yet. It had been a while since I had last seen him so I was looking forward to a good catch up, undoubtedly over a glass or two of the local vinho. I hadn’t plucked up the courage to tell him his number yet. He would be Gay 69. A London friend of mine had commented that had they been one of the gays they would have only done it if they were Gay 1, Gay 80 or Gay 69 as they are the numbers that people will remember. 

The flight over was uneventful and we landed on time and I had a text from Timmy saying he was here and waiting for me outside the terminal. I stood at the carousel in Faro watching as other passengers collected their luggage and headed for the exit, a small knot of anxiety developing as new cases stopped appearing on the belt despite the fact mine wasn’t there. I suppose it had to happen at some point. That perennial travel problem of the lost suitcase. I guess I had done fairly well making it through nine months of global travel with barely a delay, nearly missed flight or losing anything (except maybe my dignity on a few drunken nights out). Fairly soon the number of cases matched the number of people waiting by the belt. One case. One person, me. The one case was mine. I must have watched it go round a good half dozen times before I realised it was mine. I had been to Faro to see Timmy on a few occasions and I had always had a small suitcase with me and that is what I had been waiting for, not the large suitcase of clothes that would get me through the final couple of months. Thankfully there was nobody left to hear me exclaim "oh that's my case" or see me red faced collecting it a good few minutes after everyone else had left.

I collected my case and made my way out into the Portuguese sun. I could see Timmy waiting for me. I apologised for the delay, mumbling something about waiting for my suitcase. On the drive from the airport to his we caught up on the gossip about mutual friends from back home, I gave him a condensed version of my travels to date and he filled me in on what had been happening in his life since I last saw him. It was getting close to lunchtime by the time we arrived back at his so after a brief tour of his new place we headed into town for some lunch. We had lunch at a little café he suggested, sitting outside in the sun. Timmy took care of ordering for us both. His Portuguese had really improved since my last visit. I was limited to “obrigado” which I said as often as I could, making me seem over-polite.

After lunch and a little stroll around town we headed back to the house. Timmy gave me a quick tour of the house but then had some work calls to do so he left me to it. I had a little siesta and then took a book and sat out by his pool reading for a while. Timmy was doing a conference call from the side of the pool. I could see why he had swapped London life for this. I stayed out reading until the sun started to go down, making it a little chilly to stay outside in just a t-shirt and shorts. I went in to get changed into some jeans. When I came back downstairs Philip, a friend of Timmy’s who I knew from London, had joined us. We had a catch up and then they let me in on the plans for the evening. Another friend of Timmy’s, Paulo, had offered to cook dinner for us all so we would be heading there. Before we set off for Paulo’s Timmy explained that Paulo was deaf but could lip-read although he didn’t speak much English. I was certain he spoke more English than I did Portuguese.  

The three of us headed out and drove over to Paulo’s for dinner. Having arrived and being welcomed in, Timmy did the introductions. I smiled, said hola and held out my hand ready for a handshake. I got a hug and a kiss on each cheek. A couple of attempts at my name and we settled on me being called “Crease” for the evening. I’d been called worse I guess. Very soon I had a glass of wine in my hand and we attempted a conversation, via Timmy. I felt like I was at the UN, having a translator by my side. It made the whole process quite lengthy so I spent periods just looking at Paulo and smiling (which was fine as he is very easy on the eye) whilst Timmy translated what I had just said.

We were invited to take our seats at the table while Paulo made his way into the kitchen to bring out the starter. He returned carrying a couple of bowls, steam gently rising from them, and placed one at either end of the table. They contained hot water with a slice of lemon floating in it. I looked at it and said “The soup looks a bit thin”. Timmy didn’t translate my attempt at a joke for Paulo who headed back to the kitchen, returning moments later with a plate piled high with prawns. We set about demolishing them. I’m pretty easy-going with food, kidneys being about the only thing I would struggle to eat, but if something on my plate still has its eyes and is looking up at me I feel a little uneasy. I shelled quite a few prawns in one go and put the heads out of sight. It took us quite a while to get through the prawn mountain but pretty soon the plate was just a pile of prawn heads. The main course was fish, complete with head and flat black eye staring up at me. I moved the piece of lemon garnishing the meal over the eye but could feel the fish looking at me through it. Dessert was a bannoffee pie, which had no head or eyes.

Conversation after dinner was interesting. It was like playing a game of bilingual charades. A mix of English, Portuguese and mimed actions helping us to converse. We seemed to do ok. From the mimes I gathered that Paulo worked as a photographer and he showed me some of his work. It was very impressive. I really did need to sort myself out with a photography course when I got back so I could move my digital SLR off “automatic” mode. It was soon time for us to head back. I managed to thank Paulo for dinner in Portuguese, even managing a muito obrigado rather than just an obrigado. Another big hug and kiss on both cheeks followed but this time I was prepared for it. Once back at Timmy’s I did my goodnights in English and made my way up to my room. It had been a great first day back on my travels.

“Someone is waiting” 
Lyrics from Someone is waiting from the musical Company