Fooooooooood

I have an hour after lunch before I have to be sober enough to drive to Lisbon. Long lunches with plenty of food, beer, wine affect my afternoon productivity. Suddenly blogging seems almost constructive, and is about the only thing I can manage through the haze.

Todays lunch was courtesy of the carpenter. Im not sure why he bought us lunch and suspect it was our senior fieldy's idea more than his. He has been a bit of a groupy though, always turning up when we go out for lunch or have beers after work. The ultimate was this week when he brought his dad along for beers after work as well. I suspect we werent fulfilling our quota of old men sitting in the sun. The big bottle below is not water or wine instead it's homemade liquer, around 20% and very nice after a big lunch. Usually its served in normal glass wine bottles but we drained one of them hence the emergency stash being brought out.

I havent really written the "food" post yet. I had this great idea of photographing lots of different meals for you, but that never really happened. Part of the problem is they all look fairly similar.

First the starter - at a minimum bread, olives, cheese/salami (or both). The bread in the Alentejo is heaven - crusty, soft in the middle, sensational. You become a bread snob. I can now pick day-old bread, commercially produced bread, below-par bread. Some restaraunts also will put out fried liver, fried chicken/pork breast/cuttlefish served cold in oil/garlic, deep fried pig fat (kinda like crackling), or other tasty treat to start. Usually depends on the number of people and whats available that day (ie what was yesterdays special/leftovers). You can have soup too if you like (handy to use up the half a loaf of bread which gets put on the table).

I saw a tip in Lonely Planet that you should send back the bread and olives since its added onto the bill. People - the bread and olives combined cost about 0.80c (euro - ie about A$1.30). They will ask if you want cheese/salami/anything else. If you leave a plate on the table and dont eat from it you wont be charged for it. In Lisbon it might be worth it but in the country just wear it and think of it as a tip; it will take more time, effort and bad feeling to send it back. Just dont eat it and it will discreetly get recycled for the next customer, and instead tip less. Everyone will be happy. I bet Lonely Planet tell you to tip in Portugal too - you dont really need to. Max 1 euro. If at all.

Put simply in the Alentejo food = pork. Lots of it. Roast pork, roast/grilled pork leg steaks, grilled/fried pork "breast" steaks, stewed wild pig, pork chops. The famous black pig is the best. One of the most famous dishes is "carne do porco Alentejano" - meat of the Alentejo pig - a tongue in cheek description since the dish consists of diced pork and clams fried together in tomato paste (the Alentejo coast is famous for clams hence clams are almost as typical as the pig). After pork comes lamb, but only in spring. Again roast, stewed or in chops. And then veal, rarer, stews or roast or grilled but never really steaks like in Australia (OK Im not that hot on the difference between veal and beef but I bet I get told after this!).

I missed chicken in there. Ive had chicken a couple of ways, firstly grilled chicken breasts, but the more unusual one is served alongside chicken soup with bread, egg, coriander and garlic (the chicken is stewed in the soup as the main flavour for it and then served at the table alongside it).

Fish is around - mostly on Fridays (this is a Catholic country after all). Always served baked/grilled whole. Bizarrely fish arent served with chips, instead with boiled potatoes and vegetables, then oil and vinegar left on the table for you to flavour the dish with. Cuttlefish are very popular, grilled or fried. Partly this is coloured by me living in the Alentejo away from the coast where traditionally the only fish was salt cod (bacalhau). Despite freezer trucks and the availability of fresh fish its still popular today. In Lisbon fish or seafood is much more common during the week, and fillets are a little more normal (although the Portuguese tend to like seeing the eye of the fish to know its fresh). Also more common on the menu (and cheaper) are mussels, crabs, prawns, lobster etc. etc. all very fresh.

The Lisboans also like dishes like beef fillet with mushroom sauce, not so popular here. The only concession to vegies, apart from cabbage, carrot and potato in stews is meat "a gardenhia" - which to my knowledge means add peas. There is feijao - hotpot of kidney beans, sausage, leftover meat, cabbage. I am terrified of admitting this as now my cousin will never visit. There is one vegan restaraunt in Lisbon. In fact interestingly there arent too many restaraunts of different food types/cultures in Lisbon unlike other capital cities. Just shows that the Portuguese like their own cuisine. In fact it affects their choice of travel - if they cant get a decent meal in a certain country then who cares what they'll see there?!

Sides = fries and rice and salad (lettuce/onion/vinagrette). Noone here has come up with a good reason why they make chips/french fries, they learnt how to do it, substituted olive oil and pig fat for whatever oil was being used and kept going. In the Alentejo theres a side called "migas" bascially bread pudding but savoury, cooked with olive oil and pig fat and occasionally aparagus or spinach. Also can get fried after being cooked to turn it into a pancake, or water and seafood added to make it more of a porridge.

Olive oil is the most common condiment, next to salt. After that garlic and/or coriander, maybe some pepper and occasionally chilli oil (or by request). All spices/condiments/flavours used heavily, I estimate my salt intake to have increased 10x since being here. The other interesting condiment is lemon/orange - when meat is served you usually get slices of one or the other on top. You put it on your plate and press on it with your fork to let the juice out - as much to keep the meat moist as for flavour.

I

m ignoring desserts. Well I usually dont need them after lunch or dinner as Im full. But theyre good. Trust me. You can have mine. Coffee is essential - always espresso. But a lot smoother and a lot more "crema" than the Italian equivalent. Very very nice. And with coffee come the liquers. In the country you usually get a bottle of aguardente, or brandy, or whiskey, or homemade liquer dumped on the table. And then you tell them how many shots you had. In fact 90% of the time we've been the ones telling the waiters what we had so they can make the bill. The smaller cafes occasionally give up and just charge so much a head. Its all very civilised. And kinda the way it should be.

Anyway Im off. Luckily Ive had a good lunch to keep me through all that "terrible food" in England (the Portuguese dont travel often to the UK for that reason!). Im suspect I'll survive ;)

Amidst the preparation/procrastination/chaos

Ive suspected that Im one of the worst travellers ever. I dont have too many others to compare it to so theres not a lot of evidence. Paradoxically I love to travel. I love to go somewhere new. I love to see the unknown. But the lead-up and the preparation is a nightmare. Lack of research, inability to make decisions and an eternal set of "What if I go to this place and need to wear this" or "What if it rains" sort of questions which have been imprinted on my brain.

I have a irrational fear of airport security checks, or not being able to get away with having 5kgs more or another bag to check. Its because I've always been lucky - I'll jinx it by saying this but Ive never had lost luggage or stuff taken off me or been forced to pay excess baggage. So I know my number must come up sometime.

Its easier when the trip has one focus - ie just a work trip, a backpacking trip, or a party trip. But I never manage that (and I organise half my holidays too). If you mix work, going out and touring around the number of potential situations, the clothes required, the different gear required multiplies exponentially and you're left sitting in the middle of a pile of stuff you know you wont need. This doesnt sound very male does it? Of course once I experience a place I know what I'll need next time. The irony is that I always go somewhere new instead.

This week Im starting to think Im not so bad after hearing others say they're procrastinating packing too, or that their trip is scaring the crap out of them. Its a human emotion to want to stay in familiar surrounds, to settle in a place. The other irony is that I become all-knowing about places I have been to or live in - poor Bry is copping the full brunt of advice she doesnt need before her trip here. Hopefully I dont scare her off coming.....

Its still raining...

.... so if you're a little lamb it helps if you have a little house to hide in. But if you're a big lamb you ignore the rain by keeping on eating.

(The view of the weather coming in from the freeway to Lisbon)

..... so the roads are wet, traffic is even more chaotic than normal and you take an hour in peak hour traffic trying to get through Lisbon. Some while away their time taking photos. Others - like the 6 metre man - just sit on the nearest building and wait for the traffic to clear.

Things which keep me entertained

The most popular person on the blog thus far has been the lamb so here's proof that its is alive and well (and fat!) plus it has two new friends to play with. This fence is right outside my office window therefore during the day I can practise talking Nu Zuland.

For la Bias - toilet signs which dont classify gender by clothing style. Instead gender is distinguished by habit as females always sit down to go to the toilet and males always stand..... hmmmm.....

The many and varied faces of politics in Portugal:

To explain - during the recent presidential elections in Portugal these boards were placed in the town square to allow equal opportunity to display posters/propaganda. However the local branches didnt get around to putting up the posters for a couple of days. So they stayed like this - identical faceless grey metal squares only distinguished by the name at the top. Oooo political satire.

My road home every night involves crossing a creek using a ford - fun with a decent runup, but after a decent rain it becomes even more fun.....
Phunny road signs. Cos they're phunny.
Its a rainy weekend here again after spring looked like it had settled in. Hence this posting of photos Ive been meaning to put up for a while but didnt quite fit elsewhere. Spring means the flowers are out and the extra rain should mean they stay out. This is "Alentejo Snow" - although earlier this year the real thing made an appearance for the first time in 20 years.

As its a rainy weekend theres also more time for introspection which is always dangerous. Playing with Google Mars only works for a little while. So back to TV - BBC world had an interview with Spike Lee which was more thought provoking than I had expected, in spite of him wearing an Arsenal shirt. It wasnt his willigness to believe the US government was capable of flooding parts of New Orleans after Katrina, nor his comments on racism and his assertion that only 3 of his films have dealt with racism (my analysis is that any film he makes contains a representative mix of ethnicities and therefore inadvertantly makes a comment on racism just by that mix and his handling of those characters) but his observation that marriage and kids had changed his outlook on life. A simple quote, fairly innocuous and almost unbelievably normal for him, a man who has spent a career communicating his point of view to others, a view which has been often confronting and controversial. Its the sort of quote you expect from Matt Damon, Tom Cruise and the rest of the Hollywood A-list.....

Changing your outlook, getting a new point of view, expanding your mind. So many young Australians go travelling for that reason, new landscapes, new experiences. Its something Ive had to explain over and over here, why we travel, why people actually know where Im living now. Travel isnt essential - everyone kept telling me it was when they were travelling and I was in Perth but I still had so many different/bizarre experiences to warp me. In Portugal the young people arent really great travellers but their culture helps them develop their point of view. I had a flashback this week talking with a mate at work about buying a house as that was all we seemed to talk about at Rio a couple of years ago. Now bigger changes are happening - friends becoming couples/engaged/married, kids on the way. I have this belief that going back to Perth means booze til late hours but I haven't accounted for these changes happening there, that perhaps those days are past. Similarily here most people my age are part of a couple, or have moved on from getting hammered (unlike the English tourists who "just want to drink as much as they can because its cheap"!), which could be why I havent been out as much as I expected I would. Maybe its me who should change my expectations. Maybe leaving Perth to experience new things was also a way to escape some of these changes, to keep expanding my mind with places not events, but Im learning that its not just the environment which changes your outlook, like Spike Lee the natural flow of life does as well and thats harder to escape.

So today I ended up watching "Maid in Manhattan". It provoked much less thinking.

Happy St Paddys Day

Hope everyones enjoying their Guiness. I'll be trying to find one/many tonight but after being served this in Sesimbra last Sunday Im not too hopeful - anyone else spot something wrong with the colour?!

Redondo

One of the advantages of being away from Montemor/Escoural was I could take some of the photos of old men sitting around talking about how the world used to be in the square - Ive being dying to take pics like these since I got here. And even here I wasnt brave enough to get too close.
If you want to look like a local you have to dress like a local. Flat caps essential. And a bargain at 6 euros!
I can tell what you're thinking. Its the middle of the week so why the hell is Bill wandering off playing tourist when he should be at work. Theres no mines in these pictures, no rocks.

Simple. This week was the deadline for lodging your tax return. Since I didnt have the codes to do it online I had to lodge it at the local tax office. Except that everyone else was doing it too - at the office inMontemor the queue was already out the door and down the stairs. Mailing it isnt an option apparently. Rather than stand for 2 hours we drove to Redondo (90kms east of Montemor, past Evora), put the return in in 10 minutes, had lunch and drove back. Easy.
Welcome to bureaucracy. To pay my water bills I had to visit 4 counters 5 times.

Sesimbra

Theres nothing better on a sunny Sunday than sittting back in a cafe with a beer after a good seafood lunch next to the beach ......

(finally I get to write the opening sentence I want!)

I can't think of much more to say here since the photos say it all. The fort is the Fortaleza de Santiago. Sesimbra is a fishing village to the south of Lisbon on the Costa Azul, just off the freeway into town. And since its so close its become less of a fishing village now and more one of the favourite day trips from Lisbon (especially if you have a motorbike). A sizeable proportion of its population decided to join me for a Sunday lunch and people-watch, and then to walk along the promenade to enjoy the sunset, or sit on the sea wall to relax with an icecream. They then joined me in driving back to Lisbon meaning the 18kms from Sesimbra to Seixal took 35 minutes. At least I waited an hour and a half after dark to join the queue. I dont know if they also joined me in sending bragging sms's around the world but Id like to think so.

That however was not the reason I was driving around the freeways north of Lisbon at 1am (for your info - to get to Montemor you take the southbound freeway). It had something to do with a dinner invitation which changed into beers in a cafe overlooking the dark Atlantic without explanation, arguing about opening a bookshop/art gallery/cafe/wine bar, intellect not quite reached by being taught the 20 words for 'penis' in Portuguese while driving along the Tejo, a bag never unpacked, an unused hotel reservation and the final contradiction between a home close enough to drive back at midnight but the journey being made longer by wrong directions. It wasnt anything exciting really but Sunday felt good since the sun was out and in the sun life is much enjoyable.

This weeks safety initiative

(I havent used those words since leaving a certain large multinational corporation!)

Traffic/speed control in Portugal: The flashing lights mean that the radar controls in the traffic lights in the distance are active. If you go over 50km/h (or 70 for others) the lights go red. Stay below 50, they stay green. No fines, no cops, no photographs (although I have been told a couple are fitted with cameras - as is typical here one person has said thats true, three people have said its not!). Simply if you're speeding then you're forced to slow down by being made to stop.

Very good idea especially for country towns like this one or bad stretches of road. One flaw - they tend to only get installed close to mayoral/national elections, and therefore any two bit town may get one out of greed not need whereas others miss out. Thats politics.....

Not for animal lovers

Warning this post contains photos of dead animals, and cooked animals. You may think Im being funny but they traumitised someone at work the other day
.
By popular request! On the left baby deer, on the right grouse. On the extreme right sh*t white wine/vinegar.

Around here the perfect accessory for your truck/tractor is wild pig tails. And how do you get them? See the guy below. This shows you the sort of guys I work with. The following photos are from a hunt a couple of the guys went on last Sunday - the results are shown in the last photo (dead animal warning). Im used to fieldies/drillers/whoever asking me to print out photos from their weekend/break - at times some have been more "interesting" than others but these are certainly unique. Carlos would probably like me to point out that the big black one is the one that he shot.

Im not sure if I should be outraged here or defend them - on the good side the people hunting are not the rich but local people ie the traditional hunters, it is restricted to two days a week in season and only to licensed hunters. When a pig is killed the whole animal is used and none of it wasted. But they are still hunting for enjoyment not out of need.

Pequena coisas 3: conversations over coffee

Today is a public holiday. The first I knew was a sign in the gym Monday saying "We're open for the holiday". My diary says its a holiday in Angola. Only after asking everyone at work did I find out that its a public holiday just for this town/area. So all of my fieldies are having a holiday but all the geos are at work as they are from different areas and would rather have the public holidays set down for that area. Confused? Well thats why Im at work as I dont know whether to have a day off or not - also since I wasnt expecting to have a day off Id just waste it anyway. But then when do I have holidays? Maybe I should take all the Australian public holidays from now on.

*****

One of the great things about living in Europe is the chance to watch quality football live e.g. Barcelona-Chelsea last night. Of course the game was made more enjoyable by a few glasses of wine in a cafe eating a good dinner - I dont get cable so I had to procrastinate over dinner to watch the game. The Mourinho factor mean that the game attracted more interest in Portugal than England v Spain usually would - the man is revered here. I loved his reaction after Ronaldhino's magic goal - one of the trainers was frantically telling him what they could do and he seemed to just shrug his shoulders and say "What can we do? The guy is brilliant and the game is over".

*****

This conversation is typical when ordering food in Portugal:
Waiter: How many portions (doses)?
Us: Well what do you think? How many will we need?

(the size of servings in Portugal range from large to huge - its always nice to have an idea of just how big)
Waiter: Well do you eat a lot or not much?
Us: Well normal, I mean theres 5 of us and we came for lunch.
Waiter: Right 5 servings then.
5 servings appear each big enough to feed 2-3. This is one of the reasons lunch takes twice as long in Portugal

*****

Portuguese Guy: Wow what are these things in my tea?
Me: Cloves.... ummm I dont know the Portuguese. You use them in fruit, sometimes in stews?
PG asks waitress what they are. Answer is "crevinho" for those playing at home.
PG: Ah yes I know these. My mum uses them for roasting meat. You know the Portuguese discovered these and brought them back to Europe?
I explode with laughter at his confidence/pride in Portugals discoveries since 30 seconds ago he didnt know what it was.

Although he's probably right - historically the Portuguese were one of the worlds great seafaring nations and explorers and many spices, countries ... were discovered by them. Portuguese pride dictates that I must be made aware of exactly who/what is Portuguese at all times (the actor who played the bad guy in 24? Portuguese). It reminds me of that skit in Goodness Gracious Me where the dad walks around pointing at things and telling anyone who'll listen its "Indian".

*****

Not that I should pretend to be smarter:
Me: So turkey is "peru" right?
Portuguese Guy 2: Yes thats right
Me: Hmmm thats weird. You know for me Peru is a country
PG2: Yes well for us Turkey is a country.
*me looks at toes sheepishly

*****

Of course urban myths are largely spread by either stupidity or deliberate misinformation. Australian tourists specialise in the latter. I assume that when I was asked last weekend "Do you have cats in Australia?" it was because some top Aussie has spread the story about keeping roos and koalas for pets instead of cats and dogs. Of course its the truth ;) Have I ever told you about the drop bears......

Minas do Sao Domingos

The Minas do Sao Domingos are an abandoned Au-Cu mine in the south-east of Portugal. Mining began during Roman times and started again in the 1950s. Now its a ghost town of miners cottages, ruined mine offices, warehouses, even a railway station (above). Ironically the landscape was strangely Australian - similar iron-rich soils, the buildings reminded me of Big Bell and it was the first open pit Id seen in a while. Like most I'd worked around it was filled with water (and due to the sulphides in the ore it was a "little" acidic - pH 1). There are storks everywhere - I liked this one on the old chimney. Otherwise theyre on power poles.

The ChurchThe town of Mertola nearby. Down in the river theres a ruined Roman pier

It was the weekend for trips to old, abandoned mines - on Saturday we went to Canal Caveira an old copper mine SE of Lisbon. Of course this was also a good excuse to for a day trip and a a decent lunch out of town so three out of four fieldies came. Also the carpenter. Two hours there, two hours for a very nice lunch and maybe half an hour kicking rocks. Just the way I like it. On the way back we stopped at the dam near Torrao to admire the view and have the most expensive coffee in Portugal thus far. Its was a very Trainspotting moment - the five of us leaning on a wall having a smoke (well 4 out of 5) looking at a half empty dam and admiring mans's ability to contain water under grey skies about to pour on us at any moment.

My fellow bloggers

A think piece all the fault of the myopic one

Yesterday I went for lunch and a drive with the guys. I accidentally left my camera in my car which provoked some stress during the day. I mean a whole day without photos. What would happen if I saw something?

Since I got my digicam I have been an absolute pain (as those who have been with me when Im playing will attest). Im too focussed on photographing to share the experience with those with me, even to listen/talk to them. I slow down walks with the need to take a photo every 10m. And I obsess about taking a particular shot at the expense of others which are probably better. Im not the only one. I can list the places Ive been where everyone is too busy photographing the moment to actually live/enjoy it. At Wicklow I saw two teenagers posing with 5 taking photos - no doubt all 5 of those photos were blogged that night.

It is the obsession of our generation. No longer do you travel with a pair of jocks, a 3rd hand 5 year old Lonely Planet guide and a towel. Now its digital camera and laptop (and a pair of jocks and a towel!). Add in a GPS and compass for me since work is never far from play. I was amazed in a Muinch hostel last year at the absence of boring stories from my fellow backpackers. Instead they whipped out a camera and showed me the photos. Which helps avoid those stories of "You know the one, you walk up the main road, turn right across the bridge and its on the other side". Call it a diary, a web log, a photo journal, documenting, life caching, whatever you will but everyones doing it. Some are travel journals, others diaries, some are scrapbooks of fragments of poetry, art, photography. Some are all at once. A new one for me from Europe is the group blog - a uni/school class use their blog as a bulletin board, all blogging their news or just posting jokes and pictures that otherwise would be forwarded around.

I started blogging when I moved here as a way to avoid group emails or writing the same email to 20 people with a little change each time. Its a way to get allow everyone access to see the things Im seeing, hear the things Im hearing, join in the things Im doing. Its up to you if you look at it or not so I dont have to worry if the people receiving are interested or not, whether I should have more/less/bigger/smaller photos so I dont fill peoples inboxes, if their mailbox is full or that email address isnt checked anymore. For those that do read they have the choice to only look at what they want (photos only cos I talk too much? Fine!) or to ask more questions about the bits they're interested in. With any luck it might inspire, or provoke a response or just provide a start to a conversation and yes occasionally it is attention seeking.

Its not just a mix of a photo-journal, diary and travel log but a means of communication and expression too. So its occasionally wordy, sometimes verbose and certainly not a list of places seen. Think about the difference between a documentary maker and a film maker - a film maker tries to tell a story and make you feel, a documentary maker holds up a mirror, transmits a view. Some people are more natural journalists, other create stories, sometimes about fact, sometimes about fiction. Certainly a lot of my writing is creative. Partly that comes from my nervousness at time to take photos in public (I hate revealing myself as a tourist or feeling that Im exposing myself as "different"). As a result I often end up painting word pictures. When I talk about a town I dont just give the tourist view I give my view. Right or wrong, factual or ill-informed and occasionally a personal connection.

And thats where it gets interesting as I try not to make it too personal. I hate the million blogs from college students called Rebecca or Brad that crap on about their not very interesting lives ("OMG I have a 3000 word essay to write before Monday and Im soooo tired after going out last night with Nicole but you should seen this guy she kissed"). Yes those conversations have a place but taking up megabytes on the internet isnt it. I dont believe people are that interested in whether Im tired or have a lot of work on or that I had muesli for breakfast. Fair point that I often blog what I did on my weekend and sometimes it isnt that interesting. But I dont like spilling my guts in public - I keep most feelings to myself and like it that way. However I also feel that keeping all my views/feelings out means losing the point of view which makes this more than just a photojournal or a travel guide. So the line between personal impression and personal diary is hard to maintain at times.

Whether blog or fiction whenever people can identify themselves there is a possibility of that relationship being altered. I am (or at least I feel I am) easily identifiable both at home and also in Portugal. So what I say can not only affect my personal life but my professional one - my reputation in the community, my relationship with the guys I work with, my company's image, even share market disclosure laws. Like an true egoshootr I am able to impress and embarass with one post, to communicate and open myself could also be to shoot myself in the foot. Hence my natural paranoia about the photos I take reaches new heights, and my desire to keep things anonymous and impersonal is increased. A lot of the guys here know that I take photos "for my mates in Australia", and some know I have a blog. But photos of people are only posted after much angst. Nicknames are preferred to names and used only when absolutely neccessary. Which keeps more to be hinted at, to be read beneath the lines.

A lot of time a response surprises you - there are times you forget that an audience is out there. At other times you find yourself expecting others to respond. Some are more confident in commenting on blogs, in turning them into a conversation. I find it hard at times with others, and certainly dont expect it on mine. But I probably view it as sending the first email and become passive at other forms of commnication as a result. I have been surprised at some of the people who have read this blog - its fantastic, hopefully it gives them a window into the experience - but they also remind you that what you write is out there and being read and makes you careful what you say. Ive chosen to have this blog public and freely shared the address. Hey why not?! l love telling stories - I just hate revealing my feelings!! In keeping other people out of the subject matter I make this blog more and more about me, meaning that when others react to what Im saying or feeling they really react to how they see their place in my life or my development. Which of course may not be anything to do with what Im trying to say. Many of these posts are written for or inspired by people, often with more feeling in them than is apparent. Those who know me can read the signs, can understand the jokes aimed at them, those sentences baited to provoke a response. But being a public blog means it has to be vague, hinted at, an intellectual game for the audience to play.

In doing that I keep a control on myself too. No-one blogs in preference to going to the pub, or heading out on a trip. Blogging by definition is a solo game, often done in a reflective mood. If its done after a good night out it can be in the afterglow of a great time, or equally during the come down, the tired and hungover day after, those January blues after a great silly season, a winters day kept inside with no outlet for creativity except work and blog. For those prone to introspection the solitude can give such expression a melancholy tone, something as simple as thoughtful pondering can sound like despair and depression. Again thats the audience. In being more explicit you could dissuade those thoughts. But that loses the lyricism of the writer, the beauty of the unspoken moment. At any stage where you expose yourself to public view you risk analysis and embarrasment, self analysis in hindsight can make you cringe at some of the things you've written.

Others are more open and more personal in their blogs, partly because they are more comfortable with who's reading or that theres less information linking them to their blog. They may be more circumspect in keeping their blog for themselves, or for their friends, either by friend-locking, only revealing the url to a chosen few or the complete extreme of a public blog which can't be linked to them. That other net phenomenon - the setting up of an internet persona, someone who is not you, that nom de plume who can be hidden behind when you want to get on with your own life, or who represents things that you are not neccessarily in your day to day life and gives you the confidence to say things that otherwise you wouldnt. The internet equivalent on putting on a mask and cape and becoming a superhero. This can confuse those who know your disguise with who you really are - the person across the table in the cafe or the blogger. But also the essence of the creative process, to put yourself in someone else's shoes and write as if you weren't yourself. People can be more creative in their blogs when theyre not based on fact/linked to their life. But if they turn their blogs into fiction does that ruin the benefit of anonymity. Equally if people turn their lives into novels using their blogs as a framework how will that work for them? Their audience may be comfortable with the relationship as a blog, the ability to comment, to restrict who sees. Also does an entertaining blog make an entertaining book, if you convert it into fiction will you have to take some of the time&place context out? In removing that, or removing parts about yourself do you remove the essence?

The future will probably start with pruning - easier access to and wider reading of the good ones, death to the bad. Even publication (if that isnt a backward step). Also easier sharing of photos (as you take them?), or other multimedia. Will reality TV is replaced by people carrying a webcam with them? And then the same choices/angst - some will have them on all the time, some just when they're out or when youre travelling - but these issues will make those of blogging pale in comparison. Will you be talking to your friend over coffee, or to all their friends too through the net? Will you switch your cam off while your friend asks your advice? Will you keep yours on during a date so your friends can sms advice (and hers can give her their impression of you? And if it goes well will you switch your cam off while having sex?!

The Carnevale which never was.....

I wanted to start this post on Monday with something like "Theres nothing better on a weekend than walking through a sunny day in Lisbon and having a coffee overlooking the Tejo". But it rained solidly all Saturday. The dangers of expectation.

I got to Lisbon Friday night after being delayed with beer, prawns, sauteed baby deer (it tasted like wild pig which has me wondering) and stewed grouse. Animal lovers are now going to lynch me. Wait til you see the next post or so. Oh musn't forget the chocolate cake either. With no-one out I went to see "Walk the Line" - movies in Lisbon are like the old days where you get allocated a seat and if you're late you get shown to it with a torch. After that I wandered round looking for a bar for an hour.

I still havent really found where to have a quiet beer in Lisbon. Bairro Alto is most of the bars are but in true European style you're as likely to walk into a gay bar or a skinhead bar as a "normal" bar (normal in Bairro Alto is Berlin normal so pretty alternative). Theres a couple of touristy nightspots with fake Irish pubs, a few yuppie bar/cafes but the the rest of Lisbon drinks in the narrow smoky cafe/cervejarias like those in the country.

So I ended up in a yuppie bar in Saldanha where they ignored me for 10 minutes, served me, ignored me for another 10 minutes after Id finished my beer before telling me they wouldnt serve me as there was only 5 minutes til closing. Just as I was starting to relax. I suspect because Lisbon is a city which has evolved from the country anyone wanting to run a "different" type of bar had to get away from the traditional to appeal to those who believe they live in a city. This evolution has a lot of similarities to that seen in Australian cities. The end result is too cool for school and not wanting to serve a thirsty country boy. However there was a silver lining as it meant I got a bonus phonecall from the girl.

Saturday became a mix of trying to chill out before my bosses arrived and make the most of being in a proper city - without getting wet. It became fairly typical of my time here - time wandering shopping centres for clothes, shoes, food - i found tonkatsu sauce! - and browsing bookstores. Then running into a couple of people and an explosion of conversation over coffee about where to eat, movies, how many points Porto were ahead of Sporting, describing Japan to those who want to go. Then alone just as suddenly and sitting in a cafe with a coffee and a pastry writing some postcards trying to make sense of it all.

And thats before I got sucked into the whirlwind of dinner, wine, talk of new projects, current projects, trips to Eastern Europe and Northern Africa next week, next month, later this year (todays post is brought to you by the letters A and M for those playing at home). Sunday was driving out to the project and back with 2 bottles of wine with lunch and "Why are you drilling that hole" "What has this done to the resource" "Why don't you drill a deep hole to test that?" "Maybe you should stay here til that hole's finished".... and then having to drag my arse out of bed Monday and make it all happen.

Monday night/Tuesday was Carnevale - dress up, mask up and party. Except no-one told me where the party was. My gym had a dinner on which I almost went to but who socialises with people from their gym? Mind you the instructors seemed happy enough dressed up as women for the night ("Its Brasilian"). And tonight they told me they were out partying until 8am. So maybe I shouldnt be so snobby about fratenising with the gym dudes. Personally I crashed out and slept most of the next day, even though I didnt think I had anything to recover from.