LISBON- MARRAKECH- BARCELONA 2004 PORTUGAL: Tides and Tiles MOROCCO: Into Interzone Medina Medina O Let Me Sleep Like Prozac in the Desert The Chicken Thieves 1001 Guides through Fès Chilling in Chaouen SPAIN: Ruining of the Bulls MOROCCO (video) color, 4'22" June/July 04 View/Download: Quicktime- 240x180, 8.8 MB [ PHOTO ARCHIVE ]

Lisbon / Portugal 16 - 26 June 2004 At six thirty-five in the morning my flight departs from Berlin for Munich. In Munich there is time for a coffee in the smoke-filled cafe waiting area. And then I board my flight for Lisbon. Once again I am in a smallish plane sailing over the clouds, layers of beautiful texture below the rich blue skies. It makes me think of my childhood's long peaceful flights over the Pacific ocean, over the clouds, time enough to see shapes and faces and structures in the clouds. But this flight is brief, my meditation is short-lived, and soon we are landing once more, now in Lisbon. Nuno, my photographer friend, is there to meet me, having arrived on his motorcycle, but unfortunately he's only got one helmet. And so he rides off after I find my way to a bus I hope will bring me to the downtown. Colorful introduction to the city. Lisbon. Great old signs and facades. Lisbon. The streets are alive with colors, the trees full of brilliant leaves and vibrant blossoms. Vehicles fill the streets, in the sunlight everything is rich in hue, the colors of the clothing the street crossing people wear as bright and colorful as the fleets of cars and buses flowing in rivers of late morning city hustle. There is a smooth energetic pace to it all, but it is not aggressive or unsettling. Seems laden with comfortable purpose and need, making a nice contrast from the sunny faces populating the terraces of the many cafes dotting the streets. Sunlight reflects off metal surfaces and heat radiates from the asphalt. The first stop on the walk to my temporary Lisbon home is a characteristic Pastelaria - a pastry café - this one particularly cool and dim especially coming in from the bright streets. The espresso is damn good. I eat a little custard cake, wash it down with water. The visit is short and we are on our way again. After meeting my hosts, dropping off my few things, and setting my room up a bit we are back out the door to see the downtown and get my first real taste and feel of the city. Rui, Nuno and I take a walk through the adjacent Gulbenkian Museum's park - there are lovers tucked in corners and perked on benches, smiling laughing children, businessfolk enjoying picnics on the grassy slopes. We cross a small creek, stepping step by step on concrete stones. And then to the subway. It is clean and quick and modern. Soon we are exiting at Restauradores, a thick avenue lined with shops, parked cars, and bisected by a park-like median. Further south, downhill, towards Baixa-Chiada, back uphill to meet it. The sun is shining bright on the oldish building facades. It is beautiful here. Perched on a hillside we sit overlooking a fantastic view of the Tejo waters. Castles in the distance, and a concrete Christ on the far shore. A smaller version of the Rio de Janeiro landmark. Pink blossoms sway and chatter in the breeze, Portuguese conversation surrounds me. It sounds nice- mostly unfamiliar and yet occasionally the odd word or words that sound enough like Spanish that think I have an idea of what's being spoken. I have fun trying to say things, to learn things. Sometimes at night at the apartment I even watch a little bit of TV or try to read magazines just to expose myself to the language, try to decipher it and swim in it. GINGER POWER! Sleek winding streets, an urban moment in Baixa-Chiado. Looking down in the day, Bairro-Alto. Looking up at night, Bairro-Alto. Evenings are the Euro Cup soccer matches, hosted in Lisbon for 2004, and the city is full at most hours with the calls and crowds of fanatically and often absurdly outfitted or made-up Football fans. Scattered groups of sunburnt half-drunken in the afternoon hooligans shirtless, tattooed, at the Baixa and Chiado cafés; those that somehow slipped through the security measures intended to keep the rambunctious back home. But actually the Football tourists number fewer than I feared. And the air of the city is comfortable enough, however energetic and frenetic in the night after the games. I manage to watch bits and pieces of games from bars or cafes or in living rooms with friends. It's all good fun. Not really my kind of fun, but still entertaining to be a part of it all. When Portugal wins, twice while I am there, the streets are full of honking, cheering, flag-waving, whistling carloads: a slow and noisy procession through the city which goes deep into the morning hours. The beach is another lifestyle aspect I can appreciate in small doses. A drive out of the city and I find myself on the shore of the Atlantic for the first time - from the eastern side. I am quite likely the palest, whitest body on this shore, amidst a sea of tanned brown sun-devotees. I swim in the salty water, play in the medium-sized waves, gaze on the surfers and the sleepers and sand-castling children. The Atlantic from the other side. Amarelo. Bairro-Alto. Lisbon. Nice Posters. Lisbon. More cool storefronts and signage. Lisbon. Much time is spent exploring the city on my own, as I always do. Discovering bookstores and landmarks and interesting characters wandering the streets. Amazed by the storefronts, the broken down old neon signs. The crumbling facades versus the reconstructed sections of town rebuilt after fires or earthquakes or age. The colors of the buildings are wonderful, warm, bright more often than not. Laundry hanging on lines stretched across streets or along residences, talking to the wind. Stairs climb up and down hills, special trams - elevadores - are there should you not have the power or desire to ascend on your own. The food, I find, is not bad at all, and I manage to eat quite well. Despite a very meat-centric cuisine I am actually able to find a reasonable number of vegetarian options and am usually satisfied with what I have. Then again I am eating so many good cakes and pastries and snacks through the day, perhaps I am partially numbed by the sugar and caffeine. Regardless, my hosts and I enjoy a great number of their favorite restaurants, ranging from pizzeria to vegetarian eatery to downtown hilltop grill to traditional steak/fish and chips neighborhood places-where I usually end up with breads, cheeses, olives, salads, and soups. I meet so many great people, in even such a short time. Mostly creative folk: artists, architects, photographers, designers. Friends of friends who become friends of mine. It's both astounding and comforting to me how friendly and open people are. Not to mention how well the Portuguese can speak English. How quickly I feel accepted and trusted, and how much that activates a deep appreciation of this land and its people. I meet so many people by chance, by connection, by coincidence. And I run into the new same faces all over town. After a week I already feel like I almost live here and am part of things. Such feelings took me many months in Germany. Me and the tiles. Lisbon. At the big cool Aquarium. Lisbon. A day trip out of the city and to a comfortable elevation. Sintra. Lisbon by the water. An old fortress thing. My original plan was to only stay six or seven days, maybe eight at the most, then to move on allowing me more time for Morocco. But I love it here. My hosts invite me to stay longer, and I don't need much persuading. After 10 days I finally decide I need to go on. But it's difficult. I want to stay even longer. Three times I delay my departure. Various excuses, ranging from wanting to see people again I just got to know, to wanting to make more outings outside of the city. Sintra, for example. Everything is enchanting. Boarding a midnight bus for Algeciras, southernmost Spain, I feel a certain sadness already. I am looking forward to Morocco, but don't want to let go of Portugal. Into Interzone >> REDHAUS • DESIGN • PRINTMAKING • PAINTING • TRAVEL • ABOUT • CONTACT ©2008 JPM / Redhaus