Bom dia Lisbon. Why the fuck are there olives on everything? For what it's worth, the construction game has gone to absolute shit. My advice to anyone thinking they'd like to be a tradie, is don't. Chances are you'll be 3 years into an apprenticeship and utterly hate your life. What you should do instead, (having never worked a day on the tools) is go to school for project management. This way you'll get a nice certificate, a fancy job title, and then you'll "run" the job. If you think I'm just being facetious, I'm not. That's the direction the construction industry has gone. World wide. Much like the music industry, construction has become a game run by bean counters that are usually so lost they couldn't find themselves in a mirror. Having spent the last 8 months going to battle on a particularly grizzly site, and since occupancy is upon us, I decided it was time to leave for a few weeks and get some sun.
This was a wise choice as I happened to get into Lisbon on a gorgeous Sunday morning. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, the temperature was perfect and I found a café with a nice view. A perfect morning. It's hard for me to say I hate what I do, because I don't. I build big, complex mechanical systems in high rise buildings, and make great money. It's actually a sweet gig. However, I'm a glass half empty kind of guy and unfortunately the game we play isn't played fairly by anyone. Developers, engineers, trades, or vendors alike. So to quell my daily anguish and pure hatred for hypocrisy and incompetence I deal with, I take as much time away as possible.
My philosophy on this, and life in general is you've only got one crack at it. Whatever it is that you want to do, embrace your inner Nigel Tufnel, turn it to 11 and go do it. I know I should save more loot for retirement, but since tomorrow isn't guaranteed what's the point in retiring with your pockets lined with cash having never been anywhere or seen anything? My therapist would probably agree with that part, but I'll never heed to my own advice.
Lisbon, or Lisboa if you're naughty, turned out to be an utterly gorgeous city. Rich in history, cobble stone roads, museums and old bricks. My favourite. Vibrant colours of pinks, yellows and blues run through out these windy back alleys that feel like Cartagena and Hamburg had an illegitimate offspring. Shades of a distant uncle from Helsinki too, now I think about it. If I never left, I could die a happy man. I wish someone would have told me it was rather hilly before I came because I only brought my Connie's, which are arguably the worst shoes to walk 35,000 steps a day in. I toured through most of the usual areas, going through old narrow streets in Baixa de Lisboa and seeing the Castelo de S. Jorge in Alfama being sure to stop as often as needed to order a beer in some very broken Portuguese and talk to any local that I came across. Much like the rest of Europe, the street café culture is vibrant here, I found myself eating duck something in Barro Alto and hearing Fado for the first time. Fado is traditional Portuguese music, it feels like their answer to the blues, and like BB, these blokes can play. Really puts me and my distorted first position cords to shame. They also tell everyone in the restaurant to shut up before playing, a move I can't pull onstage. For some though, this music is a harsh reminder to the shocking devastation the dictatorship made its people endure during a time when you couldn’t talk of democracy and heroin was cheaper than smokeo’s. Some would say this was Portugal’s darkest hours.
Somewhere buried in the hilly background of Biarro Alto I stumbled into the best rock n' roll bar intown. What a treat it was to see a familiar sight after such a hectic day. I've grown to love finding these dive bars across the world. The hand painted murals and gun metal grey walls felt like a hug from an old mate. These welcoming sights, sounds, and dare I say sometimes smells bring a small amount of comfort to me when traveling on my own. Despite the inevitable language barrier, I always find the rock community to be extremely welcoming. No one asks who you voted for, or what footy team you support, we can all just agree that rock n' roll isn't dead and Lemmy is god. The bar itself is the size of a shirt button. Big enough for 20 people at a push and when full, a total vibe. Did I say that right? The €3 Super Bock' went down a treat along with a perfectly blended playlist of Municipal Waste, Limp Bizkit, and Hardcore Superstar in the background. Deadly good ending to a near perfect day. Obligado Eclipse.
6/6.
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