February 5. At the Docks again.

I went to the docks again, wanted to find out if a crossing is possible in early February. Here's the result: no. The freighters have their European Union regulations with safety measures and every human being on board needs a certification for everything. It would take me months to do the necessary paperwork and besides, I detest it because I'm too dawn romantic. What I want is walk up onto a skipper and he asks me
"what are your skills?"
and I say
"Do you know Hemingway?"
and he says
"Yes, man, welcome on board".


There are yachts of course, but it's not the season, they won't catch the right winds and streams to sail down there. So I stroke through the marine crossing plan (that didn't really hurt me) and went to write some crap in Baixa-Chiado.

There is no other freedom

than being unleashed
pull the leash long enough
pull it like you have to
until you hear in your head
until you hear the leash snap
welcome home:
welcome homeward bound

At night Rui and I took tram 28 it's an old car and it takes you all through the old city with great old views. It's my recommendation for today! They are good people, Rui and Viviane, they also played plays even Fassbinder's Tränen der Petra von Kant. Really enjoyed their hospitality.

February 3. At the Docks.

So I woke up in a hostelroom in the upper bed of a bunk bed, pretty girl below me, pretty girls in the other beds, pretty girls everywhere. Went to brush my teeth and have breakfast which two diligent women prepared for all the youngsters. What will they get paid, I thought. The scrambled eggs were good and there was plenty of coffee, Kaffee satt as the Germans say. The weather was nice too, so I went out with Shin who is now already back in Japan, to walk the city and eat some soup and some Pastéis. Lisbon Pastéis is the best, you should try it if you visit the city. It's famous so you'll read it in your guidebook anyway. Shin and I enjoyed the view over the river Tejo - we're at the riverside here, not the seaside. For the seaside, go to Cascais it's only
half an hour by train, there you face the Atlantic. It's almost the westernmost point of continental Europe. Shin was a nice guy with Asian temper. He even agreed to accompany me
to the docks yes the docks I wanted to find out for myself if there are boats crossing the ocean to south America.

Want to cross that water you can't call yourself a world traveler without crossing the water. But the ships said no. Two German marine ships of course had their security (I am a potential
risk and besides they were probably going to Palestine oder Ethiopia or God knows where they have their missions - not to South America). Another ship in the docks was being repaired and laying there till april. That's enough for today, I told Shin, let's eat. So we had dinner in a bar. In the evening I read a book I found at the hostel. I'll recommend it to you: it's Paul Auster's Brooklyn Follies, a novel about pre-september-eleven (you have to mention it) life in New York with a dense plot, told skilled and wittingly. In France, Paul Auster is published by Actes Sud, which prints on a very nice format.