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era uma vez. era uma vez que sempre seria igual a todas as vezes. e por muito igual que sempre fossem todas essas vezes , sempre sempre era uma vez diferente. Mais fria . Mais quente. As pessoas, boas. Os momentos lentos. Cantaria qualquer um dos exitos mais sonantes to sempre afável Dino Meira mas a minha voz , já deixou de sêr quem era. Imigrante com vontade de voltar, Imigrante com sabor a pasteis de nata e noites semi-gloriosas do Benfica. Amanha dia 25 estou aí .. como na minha felicitaçao de natal, num país perto de si.
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In the line of European countries that get nowehere, Portuguese always felt a lot like Belgians deep inside. Small country, Small people, Small feelings? In the past we got to the end of the known world .. and now they have the main house in the European Union. I´d say they're better than us. I've heard there are a few diferences between them, In Portugal we also face something like it. The problem is we're too lazy to do anything about it. Unless Spainiards invade us we're ok with our little tiny mini wars between north and south. I don't even think we qualify for having north and south wars .. i allways tought that was reserved for bigger countries like Italy, Korea, Rio Grande or the United States of America. I guess that if you take more than a walking day between 2 of your main cities , that's something that tags along. N/S. I was blessed a long time ago to discover one kind of me. I met a girl one day wich i enjoyed calling the Belgian Me. It wasn't that acurate but had a lot of truth in it .. in the end this person was way better then me .. wich it's something i'm proud of. Not many times you're faced to an alternative version of yourself and you realize it's good .. much better than you. Ingrid , my belgian me. Thank you.

They have a little boy that pisses without control on a tiny street ,old Brussels. We have a stone tower in the river Tejo .. that can house a little pissing boy anyday he feels like it. They have chocolate , we love eating it. My soccer team Benfica is called the "Red Devils", Belgium soccer team is called  "Red Devils". In fact both teams should be called "The so-so Spookies" due to their amazingly sad outcome these last decades or so. They have mussels we love clams. They listen to Vaya con Dios, we have Madredeus. Too much? Too little?

Belgium ... love it or leave it.
Portugal ... just leave it.

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It's been a while since i last dived .. but the little bug has bitten again last weekend. On some usually lousy channel i usually never reach on my early morning Zapping exercizes i could find an amazing diving show. Stayed there, glued to the tv screen ..getting my eyes filled with deep blue, sharks, whales, turtles and an imense ammount of impossible colors one can find down there. Let me dive again, oh Lord.

Uma das vantagens de ter uma camera pequenina , é que sempre estou preparado para disparar em qualquer direcçao. Nesta foto feita em Bruxelas tive sorte. Gosto muito desta foto e tenho algumas saudades deste par de jarras. A minucia das fodos detalhadas do rapaz e a acutilancia da rapariga.

Gostas desta foto?

From some time i´ve been investigating places and feelings. A time comes when choices must be made with your whole life in hands.I´m 33 like Jesus and a few of my closest friends and i have at best 60 years ahead of me. 60 years of a journey i´m hopping will take me to where i want to be with 93 years old. Knowing that i've done all that i could do with my limited resources. I'm talking about the green valuable papers and the colorless ticking time. Where to go? These were my first 4 choices ...from left to right : South Florida Miami, Oman, Cabo Verde and Kenya. Water may be found if looked carefully in all of these pictures. In the end i may head south and go to South Africa. A World in a Country. So ... coming back to my blog with all the things i´m looking for in this trip to mighty SA will be posted on this blog of mine. You're more than invited to tag along ..both on Mapa Riscado or the actual trip next September. Maybe.  Any tips will be more than welcome...  altough i'm counting heavily on a friend that lives and enchants Johannesburg these days.

South Africa, September 2010

Now this is something that truly impressed me this last week. I came across this webcast from a Danish guy. Arquitect he said. So he explained that his company was building this and that .. bla bla bla .. interesting stuff but not the important thing to highlight on this post. The thing to know is that they've been hired by the the great nation of Azebaijan to build something on an Island facing Baku, the country's capital.

Here's the link to the Webpage where they explain the whole project of ZIRA ISLAND

Every now and then i come up with a great idea that lacks funds. Eventually also lacks time. Right now, though, everything looks bright and it seems a great doable idea. Get a bag and 2 t-shirts and go round the world for some time. 2 Months would be great. The money spent on these 2 months wouldn't be so great but i hope to find a soluction for that anythime soon. Or nexrt year. I could repeat and try to see new stuff on the Bangkok-Singapore route .. maybe Phuket, maybe hop to Camboja, Cameroon Highlands, Singapore zoo and repeat the food in Singapore. Afterwards i would head on to Australia for some desert, beach and all'round good time in Aussie land and in the end from LA to San Francisco with a few natural pakrs tossed in along with a few Las Vegas chips. Back home. The real dificult part in this journey is the decision to do it.


This is a guy i did not know about before this chat. He has interesting ideas on Borders of the world we live in. Makes you think of borders as living entities that come and go. Where they were, where they are ... and where we're all heading with these borders & countries. Let's travel people .. travell the world over and share your story. Go.
Nyoquis de Yamatoimo
1 yamatoimo de 150 g
1. Peleu el yamatoimo i ratlleu-lo amb un ratllador japonès per tal d'obtenir una pasta elàstica.
2. Poseu la pasta de yamatoimo a una mànega pastissera.
3. A un plat fondo petit feu-hi 5 nyoquis de yamatoimo ajudant-vos amb unes tisores per tallar pasta.
4. Guardeu-los fins al moment de l'acabat i la presentació.

Per al brou de carreretes
100 g de carreretes, 150 g d'aigua, oli d'oliva
1. Netegeu la terra de les carreretes amb una mica d'aigua.
2. Eixugueu bé l'excés d'aigua dels bolets deixant-los sobre paper absorbent.
3. Saltegeu els bolets amb una mica d'oli d'oliva i cobriu-los amb aigua.
4. Coeu-los a foc mig durant 15 min.
5. Desengreixeu-los i coleu-ho.

Per a la infusió de brou de carreretes i flor de saüc
el brou de carreretes (elaboració anterior), 10 g de flor de saüc, sal
1. Poseu a bullir el brou i aparteu-lo del foc quan bulli per afegir-hi les flors de saüc.
2. Deixeu-ho en infusió durant 30 min i coleu-ho.
3. Poseu a punt de sal i guardeu-ho.

Per a les carreretes
28 carreretes d'1 cm de diàmetre

8 fulles de melissa fresca d'1 cm, oli d'oliva, sal

Acabat i Prensentació
1. Saltegeu les carreretes amb una mica d'oli d'oliva i poseu-les a punt de sal.
2. Mulleu els bolets amb la infusió de brou de carreretes i flor de saüc per estofar-los lleugerament.
3. Escalfeu el plat amb els nyoquis de yamatoimo a la salamandra fins que estiguin calents.
4. Repartiu 7 carreretes estofades entre els nyoquis i mulleu el conjunt amb 35 g d'infusió de brou de carreretes i flor de saüc.
5. Acabeu la presentació amb 2 fulles de melissa fresca a cada cantó del plat.

 A few weeks back travelling through the South of Spain i came across Granada. Not really coming across 'cause i did knew i'd be there .. so a week before i made my stay in Granda as blissfull as possible. Went on the internet and googled : Best place for Pedro to sleep in. The result after a few hours searching was this hotel by the name of Gar'Anat : Hotel de Peregrinos. When walking around the city , feeling the 42 degrees heat .. nothing like returning to the peacefull winter cold hotel. Maybe it ain't cheap but we only get to live once ... so like in Bangkok i realized there wouldn't be a first time in  that city again and spleashed the little money i had in a great experience. From the Hamman to the Allambra, all the way through the Ice creams and the Tapas ending in the "Tinto de Verano" .. Viva Granada!

Link Hotel : GAR'ANAT

These TED talks are something worth listening and thinking about. Whether it's some inspiring story, the crude reality or an inventor showing off his latest "trick" ..TED will make you a better person :) The first of the talks i leave on my blog goes for Misha Glenny. I first heard of this man when i deeply studied the Balcan conflict of the 90's on 2008 ..hehe. He was a correspondent there for the whole conflict .. before, during and after. Listen. LINK
Roma 01
Já tinha chegado com o meu Clio até Florença. Pensei que seria o meu limite em Km's de distancia percorrida a cavalo da minha maquina Françesa. Quando começei a traçar a rota do meu Interrail "Before-30-or-Else", Roma foi uma escolha óbvia para primeira parada. Lisboa-Hendaye-Nice-Roma. A última parte da viagem, desde Nice até Roma quase perdia o comboio que chegou muito muito atrasado. No night Train (nome real) para Roma, conheci um Californiano (John) que viajava por Europa sozinho. Os seus amigos tinham vindo para o continente uns meses antes e ele nao tinha viajado com eles porque estava em estágio. Quando terminou, veio para aqui. Sozinho a passar pelos mesmo sítios. Os americanos ás vezes sao esquisitos. Cheguei a Roma ás 7 da manha. Lembro-me de os 3 (Eu, o Okapi e o John) sairmos de Termini pela porta grande, respirar-mos fundo e dizer/pensar : "Uma nova cidade, Uma nova capital ... bora lá!". Pequenos Almoços a preço de Ouro. Cocktails de garrafa nos Spanish Steps e o encantamento de vêr uma cidade como creio que nao há em lado nenhum. Mais história e monumentos por metro quadrado que qualquer sítio no mundo. Roma SPQR.

Roma 02
Coming out of a challenging 3 week trip to India, i felt compeled to treat myself to a western world SPA on the form of a 3 day stay in Rome. No Xamuças. No cows, camels, monkeys or dozens of kids running around and into you. No more feeling like a film star. Just an anonymous soul wondering around. No questions asked. I spent an entire day on St. Peters square. Taking photos. Stopped for a Panino aroung noon. Photos and more photos. Of religious people. Of kids running over MiguelAngelo's floor, diving on Bernini fountains ... screaming beneath Pope John Paul II room. He never came out the window complaining. Nice guy. Saved a bunch of Czech girls from Italian policeman .. who were more than helpfull. I stepped in and said i was their boyfriend. They were 9 .. but the policemen understood what i meant and left. We all walked around chatting and eventually parted ... they left me a Czech coin. Went on to visit a Warhol exhibition and that finish my western world welcoming home party.

Rome 03

Res millor que tornar a Roma per un cap de setmana. Sugestions :

Dormir : Orange Hotel
Menjar : Da Baffetto
Torres Novas. Escola Secundária Maria Lamas. Um verao qualquer ao redor dos 13 anos, joguei neste campo cada um dos dias em que nao estive em Sao Martinho do Porto. Contra gente mais velha que eu. Contra gente que jogava mais que eu. Muito mais que eu. 1 ano mais tarde eu e o Recruta pequenino, ganhamos um jogo de 2x2 contra o Lobo e o Recruta grande. Nesse mesmo ano ganhamos um jogo de 2x2 contra o Prof. Mané e o Prof. Monteiro. Durante uma mao cheia de anos aqui terminavam as minhas tardes de Basket. Um dia o Carlos respondeu á minha mae que eu sempre estava aqui. Sempre. Aqui eu e a Sandra ganhavamos a tudo e a todos. No final dos jogos, cansados e deitados no cimento quente, faziamos festas improvisadas com copos de papel a transbordar de água.

Quem se lembra desta Escola? Quem se lembra deste campo de basket?

Miss Bielorrussia
Гэта першы і, верагодна, у апошні раз я нічога пісаць пра Bielorrussia. Я толькі што даведаўся, што яна складаецца з 3 рэгіёнаў. Возера, лясы і балоты. Яна прыгожая міс ў 2008 званыя Вольга Hižinkova.

Сёння іх Футбол чэмпіёнаў будзе гуляць супраць маёй каманды Бэнфіка. Магчыма, вынік гульні будзе перамога на маёй баку .. Верагодна, няма. Я проста настроіцца на радыё, калі я мыла лесвіцы супольнасць і, спадзяюся, я буду спяваць песні Бэнфіка ўсе ночы напролет.

I just found a world of amazing and beautifull things about Minsk and the country in general. Their traditions, best cakes and wild animals. Strangely i also feel compeled to share a wonderful Poem by famous Ukrainian/Bielorruss poet Taras Shevchenko:

The Mighty Dnieper

The mighty Dnieper roars and bellows,
The wind in anger howls and raves,
Down to the ground it bends the willows,
And mountain-high lifts up the waves.

The pale-faced moon picked out this moment
To peek out from behind a cloud,
Like a canoe upon the ocean
It first tips up, and then dips down.

The cocks don't crow to wake the morning,
There's not as yet a sound of man,
The owls in glades call out their warnings,
And ash trees creak and creak again.

** For Translation from Bielorrus to Brazilian Portuguese, Catalan or American English

Next weekend i'll be heading on to Rome. No money in my pocket but a world of illusion. Hope that's enough somehow. I'll be sleeping near St. Peter's Square.This time i hope i can see the Pope and eventually ask his opinion on Benfica's current form. I'm sure the Catholic church has been following closely the production of the men in red. Specially because Benfica's coach goes by the uncommon name of Jesus. Not Belzebu, Batman, Garfield or Apple Pie ... Just Jesus. He does look kind of weird and crazy but i guess the original Jesus didn't qualify for the "Most Handsome Hebrew this side of the Eufrates". Hey .. this is me just guessing, i really don't care as long as my team keeps winning. So when the Pope comes out his windows, waving, among cheers and long live the Pope chants, i'll throw in my litle stone of wisdom in form of a whistle or song. "Allways look at the bright side of life" by the Monty Pithons was a serious contender but i'll settle with "Ser Benfiquista" our Benfica hymn. I'll try to train a pidgeon or two to emulate our team's Royal Eagle flight before each game ... hope that goes well.
Best Wishes,

My Hotel : Orange Hotel, Fluffy Beds
My Team : Benfica, the Mighty Ones
My Pope : Benedict, the Joyful
My Pizzeria : MangiaNapoli, with or without Cheese
My Pidgeon : Not an Eagle but close
Este é o melhor jogo que existe para a Nintendo Wii. Digo isto com toda a autoridade que 3 dias de jogo ininterrupto me dao para dar opinioes ao calhas. Tenho 21 jogos, obtidos de uma forma mais ou menos lícita de amigos comunitários e de todos estes jogos, Rayman Raving Rabbids é o melhor. Se tens a tábua melhor ... tens 1001 e uma coisas mais dentro do jogo para desfrutar. Yupeeeeee.

Infelizmente e porque tudo o que é materialmente bom sempre acaba (hehe) esta tarde deixarei de ter consola outra vez. Retorno a Wii ao seu dono, pensando que num futuro mais ou menos próximo também eu terei uma coisita branca com um pontinho azul junto á televisao em frente ao sofá. Uma só para mim. Se nao sabes o que oferecer ao Pedro no Natal de este ano...

Download Rayman Raving Rabbids : LINK

Bangkok (Thailand) : Ibrik Resort by The River
Dificult to find but what a wonderful choice for an amazing stay in Bangkok. Would return in a blik of an eye. Waking up to the river sounds. Staring at night to the other shore where the golden temples are. The small market by the Hoetl selling a million strange things. The people working in the hotel had an english vocabulary of 4 words. No more. And it was more than enough for a great breakfasts and massage.

Koh Samui (Thailand) : Red House Boutique Hotel
Keeping on with the desire of staying as close to the water as possible, this was a clear choice in Koh Samui. I'ts in the middle of the fisherman's village near Bophut Beach. Nothing like waking up in the morning, walk down to the beach and dive. Yupeeeee

Penang Island (Malaysia) : Cheong Fatt Tze Mansion
Protected by Unesco , won a prize a few years ago as the most excellent recuperation of an historic monument. It's a Museum and a Hotel. Several films have taken place on this amazing location. The breakfast i had in here was the best i had in many years. If you can't stay here , at least visit the house. Not To Miss!

Pulau Perhentian (Malaysia) : Perhentian Tunabay Island Resort
This was the view from my beach hut. Nothing like staying close to the water. Dive and hot water. Clown Fish just in front of my hut. Had a wreck dive that made me feel like Jean Jacques Costeau. A little bit. This was a slice of heaven for me. Heaven.

For the last few days/weeks in light of recent news regarding my labour workload i seriously began evaluating the possibility of fly over to some other country where i could get much better value for money than i do in Spain. I think of this plans in the making as What-IF contigency plan. A just in case scenario.

The Scenario : Ups .. the migration plans of my company do not include all the sub contractors currently employed in diferent projects.

Problem : I'm gently offloaded of my work receiving a very small indemnization fee and also start receiving money from the welfare system the magnificent Kingdom of Spain has prepared for me.

Solution : Realizing that the money i have will not be enough to survive without work for some time, and taking into account that there aren't a lot of open vacancies right now on the work market i think that it may be better to take this little ammount of money i have to some country where i can live with no problems (money wise). I choose Thailand. Good value for money. This last week i've talked with a guy renting a house in Phuket for the pretty ammount of 200€ a month. Yes , it's true.

What do you get in Thailand for 600€ a month (300€ each person) ?
- You can pay the house on the photos
- You get Cable TV and Wifi
- You have perfect weather and beautiful beach
- You may eat everyday on a restaurant if you like
- You may go for an ocasional weekend out to some island
- You may go for a diving or a massage when you want

Should i stay or should i go?

From my unfinished collection : my legs. It ranges from a wide selection of 5 photos taken on a 2006 September trip of a group of friends to India. A journey of discovery, chicken burgers, cows and a long everlasting friendship rekindled from my early internet days in my hometown library backroom. My loyal CanonA20 and me clicked on several ocasions (totaling 5) to end up with such a valuable photo-"reportage" document. People often say that hairy legs are a small glimpse into one's soul. Well, i present the world with a whole lotta soul today. And water. In the background sometimes. Most, of the times. From left to right i now present each and everyone of these "soul snatching" moments:

1. Legs on mini desert
2. Legs on swimming pool, 'cause sometimes it's just too damn hot to do anything else
3. Legs on Ganges (they're still attached to the upper part of my torso)
4. Legs on some palace we called home for just 20€ a day
5. Legs on mini desert camp

краката ми. Moje Noge. Nohy. Mine Ben. Minhas Pernas. Hоги. Meine Beine
Perque sempre viatges llun Pedro?
Per nadar en piscines naturals de aigua calenta de emperadores ja morts en una ciutat Romana. per a saltar d'illa en illa a las Aguas Helenicas i encantar-me amb cadascun dels dias, cadascuna de las nits. Per escoltar mil sons, mil persones, mil ciutats. Menjar, dormir i ballar en castells o Palaus... àrabs, cristians, budistes i Induís. Per les sorpreses que m'arravassen la respiració sempre que no m'ho espero. Sempre que m'ho espero. T'espero.

Perque sempre viatges a prop Pedro?
Per la sensació de casa que tens. Per la sensació de pertànyer a un lloc, a una persona, a una llar. Per a trepitjar molt de poc a poc cadascuna de les pedres d'aquest carrer al que has donat el seu nom. Per a adormir al so de les onadas que cada nit al veure't arribar al coixí t'embalen en somnis suaus. Pels nois i noies, pobles i ciutats que t'han fet el que ets, un Príncep blau. encantat.

O que é que vem á cabeça com esta foto em Sao Martinho do Porto?

Os cascos de um Okapi ás vezes estao fartos. Ás vezes , durante meses já gastos, os cascos de um Okapi nao o sao mais. Ressentem-se de pessoas, cidades, animais. Chega a pensar em dias marcados, que tudo ... é sempre demais. Adormeço á noite, mudo.


Sonho caminhos. Sonho sol. Sonho areia branca e fina. Sonho sonhos pequeninos com sabor a Mar. Sonho sonhos grandes enormes que traquinas se evaporam com o toque meigo de um olhar. Quero tanto, tanto Ar.


desperto e ... chega o cansaço . O Sol pastel que sempre me encontra num doce e suave abraço . Labios quentes fugidios, sabor a morangos, bolo e bagaço. De cascos de Okapi tao perdidos que estavam ... nem um só traço.

Que caço hoje com este laço velho que faço?
Aquest es el castell del meu poblet a Portugal. Es diu Torres Noves aquest poble petit. Jo he sigut petit una vegada i a las nits de divendres jo i uns 4 o 5 amics pujavem al castell per la nit. Parlavem de coses, de noies pot ser, dels partits de basket del dissabte seguent. De com mai el Benfica ho feia be. Teniam sempre una ampolla petita de Ginginha .. que dolcet. Al final de les nits sempre molt llargas als 5 semprem tancavem la nit fent una danca rara i cantant com uns bojos musicas genericas de Sinatra .. o pot ser invencions delirants de teenagers amb massa Ginginha a la sang.
Time has come when .
I remenber yesterday's feelings. 15 years ago perhaps? Let me just hate one thing , and may this hedious thing be desencounters. Please world, let me hate it heartfully. No drop of compassion . How hard have i worked to earn this? Years. Months. Little moments that managed to grow in me the ever green seed of hate towards a situation i learned afterwards could be oh so easilly controled. I declare war on desencounters. Fear may flow in your small smelly veins oh desencounter lord dude!

I was young . One's golds shift from time to time, and this last week i came to acept and even in a moment of weekness embrace my long life sworn enemy. I hate no more. It all arrives one day. One night out? No doves, lights or inner voices. Just a cold shiver that makes you say think a sentence or just lift your eyebrow. hmmmm . Happyness being my ultimate gold and path shall find his way with or without desencounters. We share the same taxi one day and fall inlove? good. We never meet cause i got the metro? Good again. Whether it's a "God", destiny or the guy driving that yellow cab, life just keeps on throwing all this choices your way. Eyes Wide Open. Hands in a continuos shell shape. Get it all. Get nothing. Just don't say no to life. No time and utterly useless. You'll be caught ... for sure.

I shall not be attending Joao Gilberto concert in Barcelona.
Why? Why not? I shall get my Gilbero filled ipod and run away the Ramblas all afternoon long. I may even throw in a Durum or two. A milk chocolate once the sun shines no more on my brown and green lazy eyes. Life just didn't throw this one my way. I'm listening to Joao just now .. and this is something i wouldn't change for a thing. Some people have Paris, others unfortunatly have Venice .. i managed to get my moment out of a cheap lousy pirated mp3 music player. How cool is that? Totally not cool, but practic. With time you start valuing Practic a lot more than you did 15 years ago when you were x.

Joao, i shall not.
Hate, i shall not.
Fate, i shall not.

Live life.

Porque todos temos direito a algo, reivindico o meu direito a um quadro. E se realmente tem que sêr apenas um, que seja este. Pequenininho eu, abri um livro que falavas das venturas,desventuras e aventuras do pequeno Vicente. O petiz fez e aconteceu. Toda a vida de Van Gogh era um bocadinho minha também, com um pedido de desculpas á sua familia que também o quererá concerteza. O seu irmao Theo. Este quadro representa para mim a liberdade de sair. Sair de onde se está e sêr livre por um bocado. Um bocado só meu. Vejo-me num campo. Fogueira a meio gàs, Fogo silencioso .. um frio fresquinho que te mantém alerta .. e um céu que pensas nao se tornara a repetir. Enquando eu imaginava tudo isto, Vicente pegou numa tela e pintou. Pintou por e sem querer. Pintou batatas em minas. Flores em campos queimados pelo Sol . A Noite em que eu sorrateiramente saí de casa para dormir a céu aberto. Esta noite é tua também.

Dado que hoje toda a gente fala do Barcelona, aqui está a opiniao de Miguel Esteves Cardoso sobre o que é sêr do Benfica.

"É por não gostar de futebol que sou do Benfica. Tal como compreendo como é que há portugueses que conseguem ser de outros clubes.
O Sporting, o Porto podem jogar bem, e o Belenenses e a Académica podem calhar bem em sociedade, mas só o Benfica, como o próprio nome indica, é o próprio Bem. Que fica. Só o Benfica pode jogar mal sem que daí lhe advenha algum mal. Basta olhar para os jogadores para ver que sabem que são os maiores, que não precisam de esforçar-se muito, porque são intrínseca e moralmente a maior equipa do mundo inteiro. Ninguém sabe. Mas sente-se. Quando perdem, não se indignam, não desesperam. Eusébio só chorou quando jogou por Portugal. Quem joga no Benfica tem o privilégio e o condão de estar sempre a sorrir. Não conseguem resistir. O Benfica, a bom ver, nem sequer é uma equipa de futebol. É um nome. É como dizem os brasileiros, uma "griffe". Têm uma cor. Antes de entrar em campo, já têm um mito em jogo, já estão a ganhar por 3-0, graças só à reputação. Quando o Benfica perde, parece sempre que quis perder. Essa é a força inigualável do Sport Lisboa e Benfica - faz sempre o que lhe apetece. O problema é que lhe apetece frequentemente, perder. Qual é o segredo do Benfica? São os benfiquistas. São do Benfica como são filhos de quem são. Ninguém "escolhe" o Benfica, como ninguém escolhe a Mãe ou o Pai. Em geral, aliás, os benfiquistas odeiam o Benfica e lamentam-no no estádio e em casa, mas pertencem-lhe. Quanto mais pertencemos a uma entidade superior, seja a Família, a Pátria, Deus - ou o Benfica, mais direito, temos de criticá-la e blasfesmá-la. Não há alternativa. Em contrapartida, os sportinguistas e portistas parecem genuinamente convencidos que apoiam as equipas deles porque são as mais dignas ou as melhores. Desgraçados! Se fossem coerentes, seriam todos adeptos do Barcelona, AC Milan, etc, etc.
No Benfica, não se exige qualquer lealdade. Só se pede, em relação aos adeptos de outros clubes, caridade e comiseração. O Sporting, por exemplo, tem a mania e a pretensão de ser "rival" do Benfica, um pouco como o PSN se julga crítico parlamentar do PSD. Mas, se se tirasse o Benfica ao Sporting, o Sporting deixaria de existir. O Benfica é um grande clube porque tem história e talento suficientes para não dar importância aos resultados. Tem uma tradição de "nonchalance" e de pura indiferença que não tem igual nos grandes clubes europeus. O Benfica não joga - digna-se jogar. Não joga para vencer - vence por jogar.
Odeio futebol. Mas amo o Benfica. As opiniões de quem gosta de futebol são suspeitas.
Claro que os sábios são do Benfica. Mas a força deste grande clube está nos milhões que são benfiquistas apesar do Benfica, apesar do futebol, e apesar deles próprios. Em contrapartida, aposto que a totalidade de pessoas que são do Sporting ou do Porto, por infortúnio pessoal ou deficiência psicológica, são sócios. A força do Benfica, meus amigos, está em quem não paga as quotas, que não vai a jogos, quem não sabe o nome dos avançados - isto é, no resto do mundo.
O Benfica, é o Benfica. E o que tem de ser - e é - tem muita força."

MEC - Miguel Esteves Cardoso

Não sei precisar o momento (ou em realidade momentos) em que este TorrejanoAlbicastrense pensou ou decidiu cruzar o escudo invisivel que o mundo traçou á sua beira. Tejo ao Sul e a cordilheira da Serra de Aire e Candeeiros a Norte. Bem vistas as coisas, esta novela Queirosiana começou um pouco depois de nascer. Um médico de familia com uma voz forte o suficiente para soar autoritária disse para a senhora minha mãe: Praia. Praia e Mar! Muito Ar. A resposta a tão criptográfica mensagem chegou em forma de concha numa qualquer praia do fabuloso litoral português. Anos e anos se passaram em que cada um dos fins de semana que Deus (Jesus e outras multicúspides entidades sobre-naturais) tão zelosamente colocou no nosso caminho, foram passados nesta linha imaginária (imaginária para todos voçês, Bem Real para mim) entre Proença-a-Velha na Beira Baixa e São Martinho do Porto na Extremadura. Cada fim de semana de Deus, cada período de férias de glória ... era passada neste eixo. Não me queixo. Inevitavelmente algo teria que passar. Aconteceu Armação de Pêra. Aconteceu Viseu. Descobri que o Mundo não acabava na fronteira com Espanha (esse grande desconhecido ... exportador de um grupo de jovens em bicicleta, assobiando furiosamente uma canção bonita de Verão Azul) a Este. Ou sequer na pequena ilha em forma de Baleia que quando le apetecia e o senhôr do tempo assim o deixava nos agraciava com uma visita efémera no meu horizonte. Aconteceu Valverde del Fresno. Onde cada Páscoa em romaria nos juntávamos para ir comprar caramelos espanhóis. Os outros, os do outro lado da fronteira vinham em romaria a comprar todas as toalhas havidas e por haver a sítios tão sinceramente nossos como Monsanto da Beira, Idanha-a-Nova ou Fundão. Na praia em que cada ano religiosamente eu cumpria a ordem que deram à senhora minha mãe "Praia. Praia e Mar! Muito Ar", pessoas de muitos lados, gente de muitos sítios enchia a minha imaginação com palavras raras, paises impossiveis e fotos de Neve. Ne-Ve. Aconteceu Covilhã e os jogos de futebol improváveis (na mesmíssima Torre) e festas Rave condenáveis (no antigo Sanatório) e os flocos de neve que nunca cairam enquanto fui um dos filhos adoptivos da "Cidade Branca". Aconteceu que uma menina me treinou. Basket,vida e viagens. Cruzei-me no seu caminho e descobri India. Uma outra menina que vi do cimo da minha mui nobre bicicleta Azul Babe ensinou a mim Espanha e Itália. Uma outra deitada nas areias da minha concha deu-me todo o Sul de Portugal. Um Okapi deu a mim toda a Costa Maritima de Europa. Eu punha a fome .. o mundo a vontade de comer. Sei agora .. devagarinho, que esta refeição não chegou sequer ao aperitivo. Eu morro de Fome e tu?
No more than 14 years old. Holding a soft hand i enter my own "Theatre of Dreams". The Master Pupetteer rests her green and almond brown eyes into my own. Takes a deep breath of my own life and asks me to sit down on a pillow playing around. It's her own room. I'm her guest. An old record player comes into the arena. She graceously dances around me, sharing words, telling stories, singing emotions. The purpose of this visit is to listen to some of the musics this muse loves. My teenage logic is plain simple .. i love you , you love this music, i love this music. Trio musical affair. Lying down i listen to the very first music to come out of the "music machine". It was called and still his , Rua do Capelao. Life starts Now!

I'm a rookie playing basketball on a snow based Portuguese University.Today i've had a Hard practise .. 3 hours long. In the end they propose me to go and lock the university, on a protest about something i really don't care about. Some of the players find it funny and go on to gather a few huge Alcatraz-style locks. I get a juice and previewing the snow that eventually never arrived on this city while i stayed there, i roll down the hill to my cottage like house near the train station and an old not so haunted chappel. I feel tired, thinking that maybe i'll have to pass on my weekly thrusday Sex-Lure-Dinner i religiously prepare for the future female Mathematicians of this litle country i like to call Portugal. Statistics. I lay on my bed. Wonderfully alone. Turn on the radio .. and the most amazing of sound comes out. Amalia on some fado house, joined by Alain Oulman on the piano. Heaven. I'm in heaven. And my heart feels so ...

I'm Fangio on a Chevvie driving wild 50Hm/h on a lousy ran down road not too far from Olhos d'Água, a beautifull water garden. Hidden Gem. I'm in charge of taking the product of a New Zeland Kid Lamb Slaughtering to a dye house. In the end all the wool i have behind me will have this ethereal blue color. I try not to imagine a million out-of-this-world freak blue baby lambs running after Frodo on a Kiwi landscape. Well i just did it. Imagined it. It does look good. My toughts are coitus interrrupted by a radio announcement. Amalia died. DIED? I oddly imagine Amalia dyed in a beautifull celestial Blue. I'm also sad. Listen to "Povo Que Lavas No Rio" and disconnect the radio. Just want to keep the chords holding in time. On a hold, inside me.

I don't know how i came across this writer dude that told stories .. but i'm so glad i did it. I'm pretty sure that in the begining there was one book. New York Trilogy. I got stuck inside since the very first day. I have this strange relaionship with Auster's books. They mean something to me only if i can reand them from start to finish in one go. If you stop it's something of a Coitus Interrruptus. Not nice. Not desirable. So if i stop .. i never return. Not in the next hours, days or months. Once again i have to get prepared to be dazzled by this guy and save up some time for an intense reading. In spite of this .. i've managed to finish a few of his books. In fact i haven't finished only 2. The first one is Oracle Night. One of my very favourite books ..altough i never finished it. I read it while a friend of mine was shopping around Lisbon. Girls can and will spend a lot of time shopping ...and i was more than happy to say "My God ... You look absolutely gorgeous!" from time to time. At the end of the day ... i had 30 pages left and a friend with an added10Kgs to her personal closet. Oracle Night. You should read all the books this man wrote. You should ... not to say you must.

In fact , You Must.
"Joao Gilberto
¡Atención! Cambio de Fecha: La sesión prevista para el día 1 de junio a las 20:30h se traslada al día 26 de julio a las 20:30h. Las entradas serán válidas para la nueva fecha."

hmmm ... eu nao sou bruxo, mas ás vezes.
i first arrive here when i was 80 days old.I hated water. I loved playing football. One day someone draged me into the water. My Norwegian friend, Endrik was horrified as he grabed the football that i left unwillingly in the cold humid shell filled sand. After that i never left water. Unless i was playing football in the afternoon before returning to camping. My very first friends in here were a Norwegian boy and Girl, a finish boy with a father that looked like Santa Claus, a french girl i asked to be my girlfriend while hanging on a lamp (a la Dancing in the Rain), 4 spanish brothers (3 girls, 1 boy) that went everywhere on their bikes and teached me Verano Azul. Before 9 years old i didn't had a friend i could talk portuguese to. Most of the times we comunicated by pictograms on sand. Little Boy pissing to explain i had to go to the Bathrom. Ball and water (play football on the beach?). My work during those years was to be on my bike, wash dishes, play football and see how much of last years kids came back again. Only Endrik repeated himself a few years in a row. I went to the Circus just by the camping. Chen. Cardinali. I saw how circus people got all their elephants togheter, went to the beach and washed them halfway to the dunes from the camping. One time i even went with the Nederlands family that controled all the aquqatic activities in Sao Martinho to take a Dolphin outside the bay. The dolphin was lost. The first time i kissed a girl was in the camping. The first time a girl kissed me was in the camping. The first time i drank Baileys. The first time i went to a discoteque. The first time i asked a girl out. The first time i asked a girl in. The first time i cooked pasta. The first time on the ocean. The first time i bought a condom. The first time i drove a bycicle, a motorbike and a car. The first time i slept out. The very first time i fell in love was in the camping while washing dishes. I washed these dishes like never before on the history of washing dishes. The first time i woke up dressed in girls clothes on top of a dune with loads of chocolate mousse all around and a woman in my harms. There were a lot of last times in here. The last time someone stole me a kiss. The last time i fell love. The last time i was really surprised . So many things start and end in this place. I wouldn't want it any other way. Full and Alive.
Hoje, sem saber porque deu-me para ouvir Tunas na Internet. O caminho que percorri para chegar aqui foi : 25 de Abril, revoluçao, musicas password, Grandola Vila Morena, E depois do Adeus, Paulo de Carvalho, Azeituna. Agora estou a ouvir a Tuna de Medicina do Porto a cantar Mulher. Muito recomendavel. Lembro que sai de Lisboa para ir-me encontrar com amigos da Estudantina em Braga. Chegar lá, telefonar e ser informado que já estavam em Coimbra. Por sorte, Portugal é uma casinha de bonecas pequenininha ... e em Braga estudava uma das minhas Paixoes Platonicas. A Inha. Onde estás ? Em Braga? Eu também. Yupeeee Nada se perde tudo se transforma.

Serenata : Mulher (mp3)

Revolution 1.0 : E Depois do Adeus (Youtube)
Jake Simms
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