Azore loser

 

I was in the Azores for the last few days. Never been here before. I went because my ol’ buddy Christoph invited me to stay for a couple days at his pad on Santa Maria Island – known as the quiet island. Great fun. He smiled – and drank more alcohol – over those few days than the entire 24 years I’ve known him. He should get divorced more often. There’s another obvious reason for his altered affect but I was asked to keep it secret from all of my reader. That wasn’t a typo. You’ll figure it out, Gerv.

He had a dog named Luis Miguel who was as dumb as Christoph is smart. He didn’t seem to understand that he should get out of the way of cars or that leashes limit leaping. Looked painful. Over and over. But he is cheerful and non-threatening. Dye his fur blonde and release him in Hollywood and he’d end up on a casting couch stained white with coke and white trash wanna-be actress tears, then on the cover of Elle.

The trip declined after that. Flaneur means risk; risk means periodic failure.

I ended up losing the hotelfinding game. I had to spend last night in a hostel. I used to stay in them all the time. The internet here worked as well as the last time I stayed in a hostel – meaning none. Unlike then, decades ago, you expect a hostel to have internet. Also no A/C. I did at least get my own room by paying for it. Other aspects not so bad. Twin bed, fine, I’m not that fat. Shared bathroom, doesn’t bug me, I’m OK with being naked in public gyms and hot springs. (Well, more specifically, the showers in the mens’ bathrooms in public gyms.) No spa facilities, pretty bare room, no problem – I didn’t need more. It had a bed and a desk, which is enough for me. The mattress was only slightly firmer than air.

I came here to Ponto Delgado because Santa Maria Island doesn’t have any flights west across the Atlantic. Also, I heard there were hot springs here. When I checked into my hotel, they said the hot springs are all full and my bathing suit will get stained red from all the iron. That sounded kinda fun, but not the full hot springs. Why, I can get that at Orvis Hot Springs! I’ll probably be there soon after my arrival in Colorado to enjoy the shoulderfalls.

Oh. Portuguese. When I was in school, I was told that Portuguese is kinda like Spanish. That’s true, in the same way that Italian and Catalan are like Spanish – not enough that you can really communicate across languages, but enough that you can recognize many words after you fail to translate them. Some words are pretty easy. Even most Americans who (think they) don’t speak Spanish can probably figure out the Portuguese word “cerveja.”  

Many people on Santa Maria Island – like those in Dolce la Hulpe in Brussels – spoke surprisingly poor English. Unlike the stereotypical English speaking tourist, this didn’t bug me. I can pantomime. And I kinda respect them for bucking the dominant paradigm. As RATM says, fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me. I would guess what the locals here would understand is fuck you, ?? ?? ?? ??? ???????.