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In spite of fuckin’ up my train trip and taking the time to score, I do catch my flight to Lisbon. A nice Portuguese mother and daughter are seated beside me on the plane, and I whip out my Portuguese phrase book to give them a hint. They are extremely polite, and the daughter speaks some English, but I am exhausted and sleep most of the way there. At the airport I buy the Lisboa Card that gets me transportation and discounts at museums. I ride in the back of the city bus to the station Cais do Sodré which is near the Lisbon Old Town Hostel in Chiado, my quarters for the next three nights. João checks me in and I explain I am here for the festival, having just seen Neil in Germany the last two nights... He shows me the place and my room, and gives me advice on catching the train to Algés. I have a three-day festival pass, and although I don’t like any of the bands tonight, I decide to do some reconnaissance so I know where I am going tomorrow. I get on the train talk to some young Americans who are working in Portugal for the summer. Get off at Algés, cross under the tracks, and walk into the Paseo Marítimo de Algés (basically a sandy lot where the festival is taking place). After being searched by police, I pass under a gate made of scaffolding. On top of the gate is a stage with a rock band playing and silhouetted female dancers behind a red curtain. Trashy, but kind of cool. I squeeze into the mob at one of the beer stands for a cold cerveja: Sagres Branca, a boring but inoffensive lager. The Sagres Bohemian is darker and more complex, over all much better. The Hives, the band which opened for Neil in Oberhausen, are on the main stage, and I wander through the crowd, exploring the grounds and getting my bearings. Near some of the sponsor booths I sit on some Astroturf and smoke out. A particularly sad looking young man is sitting beside me and I offer him some. His name is Acócio, and he tells me he was robbed of 50 Euros and his identification, and can not find his friends. Bummer. Before long his friend Samuel comes along, and we share some more of my imported goodies. Acócio’s mood improves, and two women from London, Debbie and Sue, sit with us. They had seen Neil at the Hop Farm gig the weekend before. Next up is Rage Against The Machine and I really don’t like their music. So I wander over to the second stage where Lucent Dossier, a performance art troupe of costumed dancers and musicians, are splashing around in 4 inches of water on their multi-tiered stage, making a big muddy mess and an interesting spectacle. I check out the techno dance pavilion and the food vendors. Many varieties of pork sandwich on offer, and I try a couple. The Tachadinha is the best, pork simmering in a giant wok-like pot. I shop at the vending booths, and talk for a while to the CD/DVD guys who have a music shop in the city. They have a bootleg of Tom Waits at the Bridge School Benefit last year, and I tell them I was there (in fact I probably know who made this recording but I don’t mention that). There are a lot of goofy t-shirts, drug paraphernalia, and hippy clothes. I buy a hand-dyed and hand-sewn little patchwork dress for the baby daughter of my friends Zach and Julia. I will meet little Kira for the first time next month in Boston. It is around 2:00 am when I arrive back at the Old Town Hostel. The overnight host, a very young man named Tiago, is talking to another 18-year old guy from Pennsylvania. The American is asking what he should do with his last day in Lisbon, and Tiago suggests going to the nearby town of Sintra. I had been planning to do that myself in the morning, so I join the conversation. I mention that I flew in from Amsterdam and the American guy asks if I brought anything. We step out onto the porch for a toke. Tiago tells me about the wild nightlife in Bairro Alto (just up the hill) and the after hours clubs here in Chiado. I say goodnight to the two boys as they begin to watch “Kung Fu Panda” on the television. |
