Pilgrimage to Sao Barnabe

So I spotted this little dot on the map of a town named Sao Barnabe – Saint Barnaby – so I just had to go! The wind was looking a bit light for a good session and I had no lessons on the horizon, so after a couple of drinks at my favourite pub/free wifi spot, I journeyed up the mountains for a first stop in the fresh air of Monchique.

Starting at dawn, I took a short hike to a local peak before the day became to hot. It was easy going, except the trail markers were a bit haphazard, to say the least. Their symbol in a red and white stripe, painted on what ever surface they feel suitable. If there isn’t a convenient street light or bare rock available at an intersection, you just have to guess and continue on until another marking confirms your intuition.

In this manner, I made a lovely loop track to the peak and back. The ‘picota’ was a barren rock with a scaffold lookout tower on top. Climbing this provided an awe-inspiring view of the surrounds. The rest of the land is very clefted with steep canyons, but none of the hill tops are near as high as this, offering a top-of-the-world view!



I also discovered some odd little bugs on this scaffold. At first I thought they were welding beads, as they were clustered in the crevices and have shiny metallic wings. But some started shifting as the day warmed up and I discovered they are a cousin of the ladybug. Quite curious.



Back in the township of Monchique I relaxed for a while under some strongly scented blossoming trees with a swarm of intoxicated bees harvesting the nectar. What a lovely experience – one I hope never to forget.

After making use of a bit of free WiFi, I picked up some snacks for the road. One of these was very heavy – turned out to be basically a ball of figs compressed and glued together with a sugar. This little treat was so filling, it lasted me a full 24 hours! (Unlike the delicious almond macaroon and custard-filled doughnut that disappeared in the blink of an eye.)

One other interesting feature I started to notice everywhere – a lot of trees had their bark cleanly stripped on the main trunks, with a single-digit number painted on each. I asked the girl at the local tourist i-site, as she spoke excellent English. She explained they were collecting to make cork in a local factory. Bizarre – I never knew cork was processed from the bark of oak trees!? And that you could strip this without killing the tree. She also included that the numbers indicated the year of the last harvest, as the bark grows back slowly, so that they use a 9- or 10- year cycle.



Anyway, I set off in search of the town of my namesake with plenty of hours of daylight. But after turning off the highway at the indicated town’s exit, I found only dirt road. What the hell, I thought – it either goes through, or not, in which case I’d need to turn around. Nothing lost, nothing gained.

Well the track continued, split off, rejoined (I think), past single houses and small villages, with lots of names, all of which were not on my large-scale map. I basically used the sun to define my compass direction in choosing when presented with a fork in the road.

And then I started seeing very tidy, clean new signs for a couple of places. This was eventually explained by one sign the read “Rally de Portugal”. Now, I love watching rally racing on TV and would loved to have done that in an alternate life. But it always looks like they are just racing around dusty dirt roads. To actually drive one of their courses, I am even more impressed with their skills, and the mechanics of the cars they drive. My little van was feeling every little judder of the stripped and scar surface of the cutting these tracks took through bare bedrock and loose chunks of remnant debris. I was probably averaging 20kph where they veritably fly around these courses.



But eventually I found one name that was on my map. And it was a little middle of nowhere spot with two decrepit buildings. Why this made it on the map I don’t know. Or maybe is was an adjunct to the actual town with its proper road, that I came to believe was further north. This belief was fostered when I finally hit Santa Clara de Novo, a sizeable village with tar seal roads going in three directions.

I came in from the west, and could have gone north (to the roads on my map) or west (continuing my current plan). Well I chose to go west, but tar seal soon ran out again. But after a while I realized I was passing through the most picturesque valley of dairy fields, with the cow’s bells clanging somewhere in a hidden valley fold.
Being 6 in the afternoon, I could have pushed on through the remaining few hours of daylight. But why? I simply pulled over (though there weren’t any signs of human life passing this way very often) and setup camp for the evening, reading my book and just enjoying the day.



So glad I did; the next day took me in short order to normal tar seal roads and in short order I’d found signs to my intended destination. Though I first had to navigate a narrow, windy ridgetop populated with more massive wind turbines – a very impressive sight to pass right underneath.

Eventually we started to drop down to the narrow valley floor. As this was shown on my map as a dead-end, I wondered if I’d have to climb all the way back out again, but upon arrival I discovered two separate tar-sealed roads leading in alternate directions – they just hadn’t been included on my big map.

I’d arrived around 8 or so in the morning, but barely a soul was stirring and there was a sign of even a café in this little hamlet. Why it had made it onto my map, I’ll never understand, unless just to draw me out there. Yet they are very proud of their patron saint, hosting with flag on a poll and the crest on a government vehicle.

But in short order I chose to head back to civilization. But a worthwhile and memorable trip into the heartland of Portugal, to be sure. The wind had blown all that night, and was quite chill with a damp overcast. Yet when I made it out to the coast, it was calm and clear blue skies. But come the afternoon heat, the calm did not last and an epic 25 knot gusty wind blew up providing yet another awesome session on the local lagoon – this time with just me and 4 new friends. Where and when do the locals ride?

The little things

On my extraordinary travels to strange and exotic places, it is always the more mundane little difference that catch my attention. Almost like home but subtly and distinctly different.

So here’s a list of what I’ve noticed so far:

Cobblestone streets are in vogue in a lot of city centers. But it’s not rounded river rocks, but chunks of white limestone, and some other black stone. So you find some lovely mosaics in the most ordinary public places. In fact, Lagos has so many animal shapes, I intend to spend a day documenting them all. Ah, what a stressful life.

Shopping carts: as well as normal carts, the personal baskets come with wheels and an extendible handle – how smart!

Biscuit packages come in little prewrapped lots of 3 or 4. I guess this is to keep them fresher longer. But I abhor the waste this generates.

Purchasing fruit in a supermarket (called HyperMarkets here) has to be pre-weighed before going to the check-out. A little unusual.

Trash collection: They’ve introduced a very sensible solution to the problem of recycling and the smell from garbage in a hot place. They’ve instituted these ‘Ilha Ecologica’ spots which look like just a bunch of tall kitchen trash cans. But these are just chutes down to underground dumpsters (have you noticed that Dumpster is always capitalized in novels? Must be a brand name or something. Anyway I digress)

Radio: There are so many English-language pop songs that you feel at home. Until the announcer comes on, or they play a local group. It’s even been suggested to me that this is one of the reasons locals can understand English so well – they are exposed to it so much. Apparently English-language movies on TV are only subtitled, not dubbed, which lends to learning via exposure.

Kite lessons

Out of the blue I got a call from Pedro saying he has a student for me one day! And this was before I’d even met Pedro so he had yet to provide the gear for lessons. So he offered me 70% to use my own gear. We got one lesson out of that, before the weather weakened for a few days and the guy had to head back home to Lisboa.

The only other lesson so far has been to a Dutch guy who Pedro and I let slip past due to communication problems (he was on the road and I don’t get regular internet access). But I picked him up through the competition, so it was meant to be.

3 lessons in three days proved to be the easiest teaching experience I’ve had to date. Good reliable winds was the secret, but the guy also did very well also, I must admit. So there’s my first IKO Level 1 graduate for this summer.

I’ve got a pair booked at the end of the month, and hopefully things pick up after that…

Bad bits

Now honestly, why would you want to read this post? Oh, right – jealousy.
OK, so what’s in the “not so good” basket, let me see…

When I first arrived in Spain, the heat and my sandals didn’t agree, with the fallout that I got some nasty blisters on my feet. OK – healed, noted, and so I have to wear socks with sandals some days.

It seems everyone hear smokes. But you get used to that.

Um, what else?

OK, so I can’t cook food in my van. And I’m currently not making much money. But these aren’t that bad, and are self-imposed so not really anything to complain about.
So I guess this is my shortest blog entry so far!

Health & Fitness

Other than kiting, I’ve been walking a lot just to explore these towns. Especially in the centers where there is no parking, or not even roads where cars are allowed.

When I’m not busy I go for a run somewhere – on dirt tracks, or on the beach.
And the sea cliffs offer some excellent opportunities for bouldering – they look crumbly, but so far I’ve found they are completely reliable.

As for food, I’m leaving cheap, so nothing that needs refrigeration of course – though my insulated van and thermal-lined backpack do preserve small packs of meat, etc for 24 hours or so. But I’m on a mostly bread and fruit diet, with the occasional eat out when I want something cooked.

Bottle water is still the way to go here, so most people say. But I’ve been happily drinking from the tap with no problems so far. (Excuse me while I just run to the toilet for the 10th time this morning – no, just kidding.) The bottled water is cheap as chips, but what I’m really against is all the plastic waste. If only we could refill from a big tanker or something.

And my tan is coming along nicely. So far I’ve avoided burning and pealing – partly due to the high UV I’m used to in NZ. It isn’t so severe here: I was warned once that in Portugal the UV was very high, 7 – I just laughed (we get 10 or 11 normally in Southland, ouch!)

History

My walking tour around Lisbon provided some very enlightening facts, some of which I was embarrassed not to have known prior.

For example, they were under a dictatorship up until as recently as 1974. Did you know? This was ended with a blood-less civil revolt – possibly unique in the history of man. It has been suggested to me that this repressive government is the reason Portugal is 50 years behind their European counterparts – for bad and for good equally.

Going back to the Moorish invasion that colonized and civilized this piece of the Iberian peninsula, the country was initially only inhabited within the first 50 miles of the coastal regions. This may help explain the haphazard boundary between them and Spain, which is mostly delineated by rivers but is otherwise not too obvious.
But for 60 years Spain invaded and controlled Portugal in the height of their world colonization expeditions (1480-1540 I think?). This explains some of the animosity and pride Portuguese have in defining themselves as a separate nation. Bit of a long held grudge perhaps, though equivalent to Ireland and the UK.

The Women

Girls, if you want to look hot, take some tips from the locals.

Heels: learn to strut in them. The girls here have the model strut down perfectly. You know, where the feet always move forward of the body. I don’t know how they do it. But I know it looks bloody good. And sometimes I’m checking out a nice walk and realize she’s in flat sandals – impressive.

Moving up from the feet: pour yourself into some painted on pants. But please, no muffin tops! In general these girls have all the right curves in the right places. Now I’m not sure if a starvation diet has anything to do with how skinny they are. Conclusion – it’s either the jeans or the genes.

And the faces. Strangely they are not actually pretty, yet they are very attractive in a somewhat sad why. Do you know what I mean? Heavy sunken eyes rimmed with dark skin; long drawn noses and a mouth that seems to host a permanent pout that adds up to a resigned air of sullen dissatisfaction that kind of makes you want to try your damnedest to relieve.

However the Portuguese are a very moralistic society. Distinctly different from their Spanish cousins. I’ve been told not to bother with the local girls; their legs are too tightly closed and take too much work. Well, we’ll just see what happens. I may not even find the time to chase skirts.

[Amendment: a met a couple of lovely kiter chicks on holiday for the week. That I certainly did bother chasing]

Settling in

My exploration of the region continues. And my van has done brilliantly in this regard. It starts every time and I have yet to stall it once. It is very well geared for its weak little engine – climbing the mountains is a slow process, as it cruises on the flat in fourth gear at a mere 40kph. And I haven’t made any mistakes about the side of the road to drive on, although I do keep trying to get in the passenger side of the car. And parking a van is still a bit foreign to me. In fact, trying to squeeze into a tight space recently (they park every- and anywhere they can here) I actually scraped my bumper into someone’s house. Oops.

The next closest bigger town to Alvor is Portimao, a maze of one-way zig-zagging streets. There is a very built up tourist region toward the coast, so the older town center is not very appealing, being a locals-only kind of spot.

Along the coast in the other direction is Lagos, a mid-sized town centered around a lovely walled historic area separate from the urban sprawl. This is my preferred destination when I need bigger shops, though I’m finding my way around both.

The mountain region of Monchique is truly idyllic, and only 20kms away - a nice retreat for fresh air and a change of scene. And in another region of these mountains, I’ve identified an out of the way village named Sao Barnabe. I foresee a pilgrimage…

As for accommodation, I've found a great abandoned farm building at the end of a bumpy dirt road that overlooks the lagoon estuary. Considering my lack of financial security, I may be making this home for the time being. Though one morning that I had Pedro stay with me (a house guest?), he slept in so long that I found out why the grass in my chosen pasture was pressed flat: a tourist troupe of 4x4 trucks came to show off the local Roman ruins. And I’ve seen them once since when I dawdled in the morning, reading my book. Lesson learned – hide away more, or leave early (my preferred option to make the most of the day).

I've found that shopping at the supermarket, I can eat for less than $10 a day. The only remaining challenges were to find a daily shower and to connect to the internet occasionally.

There aren't any public showers on the beach, so I guess I have to splurge an extra $1 a day for the beach restaurants' showers. So far, I've been sneaking into the local youth hostel - supposedly to use the internet - but that can only last so long.

And as for internet access: the Lagos public buildings offer free Wifi… at better speeds than most New Zealand connections. In Alvor the best option is a couple of pubs that also offer free WiFi as an enticement.

Meeting the locals seems to have been quite easy so far. Due to the peculiar nature of the transient population, everyone seems to be very accepting. So far it’s shaping up to be a fine summer.

Getting down to business

With a few days to get grounded before I had any lessons or even met my host employer, I set to discovering the lay of the land in terms of the competition.

Turns out there is a bit of friction between my guy Pedro and one of the local shops, ran by a guy named Nelson. Hopefully my straightforward approach has smoothed the waters some, but after meeting Pedro and the owner of the other shop, Daniel, it sounds like the guy just doesn’t understand the concept of fair business and playing nice. We'll see.

In fact this Nelson guy made me feel quick unwelcome and nervous after confirming I was with Pedro, stick his finger in my chest and saying I was not to teach on his side of the lagoon. I remained calm and said that’s fine. (In fact, I think it is easier to teach on the other side, as you can drive right there, versus the 15 minute walk necessary to use ‘his’ side.) But low and behold, 2 days later he called to ask me to teach one of his clients! This was doubly peculiar as the student had also contacted us [GustyKite] and got my phone number from that correspondence! It was meant to be.

Pedro’s asked me not to take any more of Nelson’s clients, as this happened last year and Nelson ended up stealing Pedro’s instructor. But it gave me the chance to get an inside scope on this other operation. It’s all perfectly alright, but he’s not an authorized IKO school, so I will use that as my out. Plus he only pays $30 commission on a flat fee, instead of a nicer 50% from Pedro.

The other operator, Daniel is friendly to Pedro, which is encouraging. I made contact on the phone and suggested I would be available if he had overflow work. Before I met him, I tracked down his house/store, and later met his instructors when I had to ask to be rescued from when I drove the wrong way on the beach and wallowed in the sand - oops! What an embarrassing way to make an introduction.

Finally Pedro showed up as promised, and we really nailed down his requirements and business model. I’m happy to report he’s a switched-on guy, and a very nice friendly dude as well. I had concerns at first about getting work, but I think it is just early in the season. I now have advertising material and I hope to change the situation to where I have too much work instead.

In fact, I’ve been keeping busy by visiting hotels, surf shops, and tourist activity booths, handing out flyers. Yet I’ve been careful to ask if they are affiliated with any other schools first. I’ve discovered a couple of other operators around, but surprisingly all the others have put very little effort into trying to generate business this way. Hopefully it pays off for me…

Info & Links

Info & Links
----------------
Kiting - this place is GREAT. No waves, which is a bummer. To know more about kiting details, check the blog at

life.gustykite.com

The wind weather forecast for Alvor can be seen at
http://www.windguru.cz/int/index.php?sc=48968

Pictures - For pics, add me on FaceBook and check out my albums - I'll be updating them regularly. But if you want explanations, please ask specifically - I'm limited on connection time rather than megs, and this is one of my current challenges: finding local wifi access.

The Economy, aka The Crisis

I keep hearing people use the term “The Crisis”, referring to the poor global economic situation over the past couple of years. And not just in regards to Portugal, which seems to struggling (though it’s hard to say that isn’t a long-standing problem stemming from the ‘Manyana’ sense of urgency prolific in the hot climate Latin cultures). It seems Europe was hit rather hard. Yet there is still rampant success – some people are either born survivors, or have turned adversity into advantage: there are a lot of new, nice cars on the streets, including Porsches, BMWs, Volvos, and even a Lamborghini! God help the suspension of these low-slung sports cars on the rutted, bumpy, and cobblestones streets though.

I’ve heard stories of people in certain working-man industries not getting paid for a year. How is that possible? Another guy fled from Portugal to Morocco for work, which is hardly boom-time. Yet when I visited a mall in Lisbon, I was truly impressive. It rivalled anything the States for architecture, cleanliness and consumerism content. So who can say?

What does seem evident is that things have changed. The Algarve used to be THE tourist destination for the simple English looking for a cheap escape to somewhere serene and sunny. Well it’s over-discovered now and glutted with condominium highrises and all the amenities the tourist dollar can afford: an artificial economy.

Yet the worker’s wages are terrible. When I met Vincent working at a beach bar, he said he was being offered 30 euro a day for ~7 hours work. Which was better than his kitchen staff counterparts, who worked longer for less. He made the point that they couldn’t afford one meal at the same place they work for a day’s wages.

In Alvor, I hear the same from visiting locals like me: apparently 200/wk for 6 full long days is GOOD. Another girl agreed, saying she was only making 90/wk! So I flagged the idea of finding a second job after the first day with my first student when I made 70 euros for 2 hours of teaching. I won’t come anywhere to breaking even on this trip, but it is one hell of a learning experience.

Arriving in the Algarve

My final leg of the 3-day journey that could have taken 5 hours on the freeway led me south into the true Algarve. This region is not the same as my earlier experiences of Portugal. Perhaps it is the tourist influence, or maybe the architecture is actually different, but there is definitely a sense of being in a different district. I'm told the accent here is also different, but so far I'm not skilled enough to detect it. Hopefully that will come with time and exposure.

I found the little town of Alvor after a lot of winding roads and dead ends. It is a lovely little community - a contrast to the two big towns, Lagos and Portimao, on either side. I will enjoy becoming a local for the season.

There are a number of English tourists and pubs, so I looked around for work but it is currently all taken - just recently according to responses. And there are a number of Portuguese tourists also, so I may have a tough time finding a second job in the service industry. And it also sounds like the pay being offered makes it barely worth it.

I started looking as there are no kiting lessons booked until the end of the month (so much for having to hurry to get here!). I also have been making an effort to introduce myself to the other kite schools here - primarily to make sure I don't step on any toes, but surreptitiously to see if there is any overflow work available.

Lisbon to the Algarve

So I hit the road south to the Algarve.

But I didn't make it far. Fortunately not due to any car problems. I chose to take the scenic route instead of the highway (the van struggles to keep 100kph, let alone 120, the speed limit). So I took the ferry at Sebutal onto a long sand spit called the Ihla do Arroz (the isle of rice). In short order I picked up a young guy hitching. He spoke great English, being of Brazilian/Dutch decent, and was astonished that his first ride in half an hour was a foreigner.

Vincent was off to work at his friend Mickey's dad's beach bar, and we quickly became close friends. Vincent encouraged me to stick around, so I took a swim, and later got to kite as the wind gently built. They were most impressed (even though I felt there was barely enough wind). Later, after a couple of free drinks, I was invited to stay the night - what a fine way to spend my birthday! We enjoyed a good chat that night and the next morning, but it was time to be moving on.

This day I drove through lovely winding hillsides in a national park, and through little villages, until I arrived in Aljezur. Looking for a map at the tourist info center, I met up with a young Canadian backpacker, Jeremiah. After hitting the supermarket, I gave him a ride to the coast where he planned to stay.
What a lovely side journey. The coast here has dramatic high cliffs with spectacular views. After we enjoyed a chat and a stroll around, I found an empty field and camped in my van for the first time - very acceptable.

Purchasing a vehicle

All my time till now, I have been waiting to meet my new employer, Pedro. Conveniently he had chosen to make a tour of his schools at the exact same time he'd insisted I needed to be in the country, so was not in town and so wasn't able to assist in getting setup.

Not to worry, I'm an independent, accomplished traveller. I found a cell phone in a pawn shop, got hooked up with a cheap rate pre-pay calling plan, and later crossed Lisbon’s river south to the district where there was a van for sale that Pedro had arranged previously with his "friend" who's name he didn't know. Hmmm...

Well I met the guy Jorge, who was pretty straight up and prepared with all the necessary paperwork. But he didn't speak a lick of English. Now that was a challenge, as my Portuguese consists of about 'Hello', 'please' and 'thank you', with a couple of verbs and nouns thrown in.

Pedro wasn't even available on the phone to help translate. But there was only one obstacle we couldn't overcome, and his wife solved that by calling her daughter (lesson 1: the younger generation are much more likely to have had some exposure to English).

So after 10 minutes and basically no test drive, I'd paid $1150 (euros) in cash and walked away with a real dunger Nissan Vanette with all kinds of dings and rust. But it turns out to be a real champ: starts every time, and has a radio (kind of). The back is perfect for camping out in, and is even double-walled which insulates very nicely.

So I hit the road south to the Algarve.

Learning the Language

Having a background in French, with some exposure to Spanish, is helping immensely. However, I do find my brain slipping into French as a natural reaction to "how do I say xyz in another language?" ("Comment le direz-vous en une autre langue?", in case you were wondering). And Portuguese is so horrible close yet so distinctly different to Spanish, it is taking a lot of will-power not to say 'Gracias', but rather 'Obrigado' in thanks for a service.

While studying my Portuguese phrase book I'd picked up in Christchurch, I discovered some peculiar phrases that were included. Now I'm not sure, but by the time you need the phrase "I won't do it without protection" ("Eu nao faco isso sem proteccao", again, in case you were wondering), I think you would be a bit beyond needing a phrase book! (Honestly, it's in there, along with a whole set of pickup lines and other sentences on the same topic.)

Actually my little pocket book to Portuguese is reasonably handy for someone accomplished in other languages (and I barely qualify in this category). Having listened to some books-on-CD before coming really helped with the all-important pronunciation. But my little cheat guide to the language is definitely missing, is how to conjugate verbs in all but the present tense. You can guess all you like by connecting the dots from the examples given, but the language has a straight-forward formula for 95% of cases, so why not dedicate another 3-5 pages on that, huh?

Well eventually I dedicated a day to finding a grammar book.

I seem to plan most of my days this way – with one, or two, to-do items that take so much longer to accomplished due to the new learning that is necessary, but which you take for granted in your native environment.

And I was quite proud to have a good length conversation on this topic with a patient lady shopkeeper in a school supplies store that didn’t speak any English, but enunciated her Portuguese well enough for me to follow (or at least get the general gist). She found me a number of books, but I felt even the one of 3-4 years olds was a bit above me. It is a wonder what we intuitively learn as children that they will know the language well enough by this age, but just need to have the structure reinforced; whereas I understand the necessary structure but need the content.

Eventually I tracked down an English book store, ‘The Owl Story’… but that is another topic (or two) in itself. The short story is that I decided to look on line to fill in that missing 3-5 pages I wanted.

Everyone says immersion is the best method, thus I also looked at getting a second job for the night time. But decided against this after a good look around, as they are earning so little (more on this in another topic).

The learning continues…

The Journey

All up, I was probably in transit on one plane after another for about 40 hours. Fortunately none of the layovers were too long. In fact, the stop in Frankfurt, Germany was so tight (partly due to a late departure from Sydney) that I had to skip my one opportunity to take a shower on the journey. Invercargill to Christchurch was an early start that almost didn't happen - I'd neglected to confirm my shuttle the night before and was lucky to have the guy bother to get up early enough to pick me up. Christchurch to Sydney was uneventful, but my travel companion improved markedly on the way to Singapore. I got to share that time with a really wonderful (and beautiful) biochemist cum administrator who was off home to see her family in Bulgaria. We had a great time and the hours flew by (no pun intended).

After a short stay in hot, muggy Singapore airport's outside bar, I slept most of the way to Germany, where we arrived at sun-up; perfect for synchronizing the body clock. The last hop was on a 20-year old plane ran by Iberia airlines (I was booked via Qantas). But actually the seat was in some way more comfortable that the newer plane? (Speaking of new planes, I got a good view of the new Airbus double-decker - amazing! It made our 747 "Jumbo" jet look positively puny in comparison.)

I arrived in Madrid, Spain, somehow with any jetlag. I stored my luggage and arranged a night bus ride to Lisbon, Portugal, for 11pm that night. Which gave me about 12 hours to explore this classic city. I was very impressed with the cleanliness while it retained its old-world charm. The public gardens were equally impressive, while the public art museum was a work of art in itself - abstract art it turns out, as there were hallways and stairs that led nowhere (literally). A fitting home for some classic Salvador Dali pieces.

The center of the city was a mass of ethnicities: I spent lunch chatting with two girls from Switzerland who'd come to shop for the weekend, and didn't speak a word of Spanish (though their English was exceptional); and while exploring one museum, I befriended an American girl with whom I talked for a while. And then bumped into about an hour later in a different part of the city - what are the odds!?

I believe the secret to avoiding jetlag is to sleep as much as possible, which normally isn't easy, but somehow I managed 6+ hrs on the plane, and then slept most of the way on the bus to Lisbon. Having only achieved about 5 hours sleep the night before made it a bit easier to get some rest. This bus trip was scheduled to arrive at 6:30am, but got in around 5am - scheesh, not what I needed. Stranded in the middle of nowhere with no map, two big heavy bags, and a metro that was closed for the night, I had arrived in Lisboa.