Little did i knew that at some point in my life Singapore would be a more familiar place then Oporto ..for instance. It all started in a rainy afternoon on Torres Novas Municipal library. For the first time ever , i was about to experience this Internet Chat thing (IRC ... or Mirc). Logged on, chose some crappy name and got into a "Chat Room". That afernoon i talked with 3 people. All of them from the other side of the world ... Mishty (New Delhi), Zain (Karachi) and Icetuna (Singapore).

Haridwar é uma cidade santa no norte da India a umas 4 horas de Nova Deli.

Em 2006, depois de 4 dias num Raft baixando o rio Alaknanda (e depois o Ganges até Rishikesh), dei por mim nesta cidade á beira rio plantada. A gente do acampamento de Rafting deixou-me aqui ao meio dia e fui á procura de sítio para dormir. "Escolhi" um sítio manhoso , mesmo em frente á enorme estaçao de comboios é que no dia seguinte tinha uma viagem de 14 horas até Orcha e nao queria arriscar a perder a minha ligaçao.

A long long time ago i wrote about the places i stayed in while going from Bangkok to Singapore. It was my second time in Asia after a 3 week trip to northern India. At that time i realized how important it was to feel at home away from home. It's true that when you go out on the road you're full of strenght but after some time that wears out and you're batling your own fights. Heat, rain , animals, transportation, crowds. It all may lead to exhaustion. A very very confortable feeling is knowing that in the end of the day you won't be battling bugs in your bed .. just wondering if the water in the swimming pool is too cold/hot for a afternoon swim. Or should i call recepetion for another kind of pillow?

I know i shouldn't ... but from time 2 time i heard this boy steps into a deep hypnotic state that throws him onto mp3 downloading frenzy. When i periodically mess up all my music property and (re)start the arduous task to (re)populate my music players .. a question comes to mind : what now? 

Now Lauryn Hill. Miseducation and MTV live. Remember that night "oh so fresh and  crisp"? I was a young apprentice at a computer firm, in charge of putting a million tapes in order. (what was the order... i still ask today...) Every 30 days? Bo-Ring. Now and then this time was used to find new sounds. New Paths. One beautiful night .. a Monday i believe, there was this CD to download on a forgotten internet web page that i still remember. A cute petite girl from a Hip-Hop mainstream group named Fuggees had release an album recorded live on a MTV Studio somewhere. 7 minutes download later i hit play. A deep meaningful voice comes storming in. Speaking. Whispering. Laughing. Singing. Sharing. That night night the word was S-H-A-R-E. The tapes fell lovingly in place. Found slowly my place. My pace.

What now? It seems Lauryn Hill is in Australia these days. Showing up late on some concerts randomly.

GO AUSSIE GUIDE

Flight Anywhere to London : Easyjet

Fly from London to Brisbane : Air Brunei  (the cheapest)

Sleep in Brisbane : Limes Hotel

Eat in Brisbane : Cloudland

No pants Subway Ride Barcelona

Improv Everywhere ha lanzado una convocatoria a nivel mundial de su acción "No pants!Subway Ride" Barcelona se suma a esta acción.

REQUISITOS PARA PARTICIPAR:

a) Estar dispuesto a quitarse los pantalones en el metro

b) Llevar ropa interior adecuada al evento. Queremos provocar risas e impacto, no que la gente se ofenda. Así pues quedan prohibidos los tangas, slips ajustados, dibujos o frases inapropiadas en la ropa interior, etc.

c) Mantener una actitud natural al respecto

¿Cuándo?

Domingo 10 de Enero a las 16.00h

¿Dónde?

Boca de metro de Marina (L1), al lado de la churrería.

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.


IN COMMOM
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.

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?

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

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

Altres
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

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

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

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?

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.

06.50
i have half a pillow inside my mouth. Under the smooth pearl sheets i feel several pairs of legs. Some are mine. Roll over. I have mint flavoured hair in my mouth. that feels good. Fall asleep.

10:15
I'm breathing hair. I feel like a modern day AquaMan ... evolved , revolved. One smooth kiss on her neck. Oh, So warm it is. Awakened at the touch of my lips with her skin. Good. Morning?


11:41
Drag myself out of the love nest to uncover a glorious sun drenched day outside. My hand dances around a red and gold jukebox i like to call BabyGirl. I choose Massage Jazz. Glide back to bed. So warm inside. Our eyes get lost in the horizon. Menage a trois between the park's green, grey and the white & blue of the sky.

13:02
I'm still holding her in my harms, hair in my cheek. The world won't get me out of here. Her eyes rollover, her body contorts like a cat waiting to be caressed. Her perfume drawns me again .. and again. I feel dizzy. Madly in love. She wispers "we go .. out ? sun and green ?"

yes . please . i feel cheap, sold and alive .

This is the Stockholm sindrome for me. Drinking tea on some cold cold morning aboard my hostel, casino, boat on the Sodermalm docks. Inside everything was quiet and peacefull. Outside, the stone cold snow didn't let you think. Just on how to arrive to the next warm stop. A museum? A shop selling Elves clothes? A park full of surprises? Mushrooms looking over the ice hockey street improvised kid challenge at noon. Enjoy Stockholm.

This is the place i stayed in Carcassonne. The hostess was so so nice (Patricia) . She used to live in Paris and one day decided to go rural. For breakfast she came up with a few sweet Jams, ike Green Tomatoe, that was an absolute delight. I wanted to buy her one jar, but she refused and instead just offered it to me. Nothing but great things to say. The rooms were like covers of Design Magazines and i was just 5 min by car from Carcassonne. Altough the weather wasn't up for swimming or sunbathing, i'm returning in late Spring or Summer to enjoy it fully (waterwise). She proposed the 14th of July, french national day, 'cause they have this huge fireworks on the walls of "la cité".

Aux Anges Gardiens : LINK