Pequena coisas 5

Bom dia,
For those interested in the fuel cap dramas the key worked perfectly for the boys when they tried it Tuesday at work and its still going OK now. What the?!

For those interested in cultural commentary - a SAPO internet poll found that 67% of Portuguese believe its easier to buy a car than to buy the registration stamp/re-register the car. Welcome to Portuguese bureaucracy.

For those interested in hearing more, sorry but at the moment I don't have the time or the brainpower to write - busy couple of weeks finishing things up and also the delight my cousin visiting. Tour guiding has taken me to the same places you've seen before: Evora, Estremoz, the beach and while I have new and different photos I will save them for another time. We were planning to go to Conimbriga on Sunday (the site of the most extensive Roman town/site in Portugal) which would have been new but "technical difficulties"/laziness prevented that. One new place we went to was Setubal, a port city on the coast south of Lisbon, but we were only there for snails, shells and beer so not a lot of tourist photos or info here. Due to the town's merchant heritage the narrow streets of the old town are lined with shops, not cafes or houses, and commerce and industry are immortalised in ceramic.

Praca Bocage

Feira do Escoural

The fair at sundown

Interesting weekend (maybe not as interesting as some I've hear about) which started with the Escoural fair on Friday. If you ever have to buy lots of beer in Portugal you buy it by the "metre" (where 1 metre = 10 cups/middies). This was my mates tent/bar where I spent most of the evening and wasn't allowed to pay for many of my drinks.

Waiting for the vacada

The other attraction beside beer was the "vacada" where anyone who wants can jump into the ring and play with professional cows (the professional status of the cows was emphasised to me in every explanation). Just to clarify - no spears, no knives/swords, nothing but a blanket/umbrella to attract the cow, bare hands to wrestle it and a couple of tractor tyres to hide behind. I thought it would be "synchronised cow-hugging" but the cows are a lot quicker and grumpier than I imagined, meaning the guys weren't that keen to get too close and spent most of their time hanging from the fence. When they did go and chase the cow they looked like kids playing chasey running in front of the cow saying "I'm here, come and get me". Later in the evening (OK, midnight) everyone began dancing under the stars next to the main tent/bar. I couldn't hear whether they were dancing to traditional music or not since our tent had non-stop dance music mixed by our DJ from the caravan (when he wasn't pouring drinks). In fact my night consisted of beer and endless dodgem car smash-em-up's with my fieldies (we are so grown up), followed by bread with sausage (lifesaver) and whiskey with Red Bull (killer).

Therefore the best description of Saturday:

You wake up some days and your head hurts,
Like none of the lights in your house work,
You've been up all night, spending other people's money
It's time to slow down from the speed you've been running

- Eskimo Joe, Head Hurts

Sunday is beach day so I drive down the winding road, across the mud flats and the estuary to Comporta until past the town where the traffic slows me to a crawl due to all the cars parked on the side of the highway and the road. Of course I don't work out that this to avoid the 3euros/$5 for the carpark until I'm already at the boom-gate and paying, even though it's 5pm. But there's still time for a swim in the cold, cold water, to catch my first wave in Portugal even though the lack of power drops me off quickly, and to sit as the sun goes down reading Kerouac listening to the waves crash, identifying with the lonesome traveller and his later search for redemption, re-kindling fading memories of my first solo trip to San Francisco. Then into town for dinner since the restaraunts on the beach are flashy and over-priced so instead its the cafe with the overworked waiters who try to avoid your eye for as long as possible so they can catch on some of the other tables while your frustration mounts until they finally come for your order and are really nice to make up for it, as are the "shells" (clams) stewed in garlic and coriander with bread to soak up the juices and a couple of beers to wash it down, so perfect that I end up staying here reading on a pavement in the middle of the town almost more relaxed here than I was on the beach.

Fun and games on the way home. When I stop for fuel the normally unthinking act of unlocking the flap to the fuel tank encounters resistance - the key won't go in let alone turn. After a couple of tries by myself and the attendant the key won't turn in the ignition either. Why is it always Sunday night at 10pm when you need a mechanic? And why is its always in the place you don't have mobile reception? Thankfully the service station attendant is a legend - calling the rescue crew from Montemor (making up for my lack of Portuguese), inviting me to sit outside with him and the guys sitting having their Sunday night beer who are only too happy that that I've forced the service station/bar staying open for an extra half hour. The rescue crew massage the key back into shape but can't help opening up the fuel door so I follow them back into town where they can ring the rent-a-car company to get them to pay for the call-out and hit me up for a job ("When will the mine open? Do you need a mechanic yet?") while we drink coffee waiting for the response . And the car still doesn't have fuel. I drove in this morning on fumes waiting for the key to snap on me and hoping that someone would let me break the stupid flap. As yet no answer to that question. I'll keep you posted.

Bullfights

If you’re flicking through the channels on a hot summers night theres a good chance you’ll find a bullfight on in prime time. For the last few months the posters for the upcoming torradas have been plastered over every free space in Montemor. So the world cup is over time to introduce you to the summer "sport" here since I experienced one first hand about a month ago. Disclaimer – since they are such a part of society here I am observing, not supporting/criticising. Hypocritical fence-sitter as always.

One important point to at the start is that the bull is not killed in the ring (like in Spain). Wishful thinking has me hoping that the bull is allowed to grow old under a cork tree telling the calves about the day he ran in circles while people cheered and a guy on a horse poked him with spears, but my rational self tells me I’m dreaming. However to remove a wounded/grumpy/afraid/tired bull from the ring then you first have to catch. And being a Latino country then this risky task must be done with as much spectacle and include some sort of test of manhood. I give you the “pega”.
Instructions are pretty simple. About 12 guys get in the ring and stand in single file. The guy at the front “encourages” the bull to notice him by yelling, and when the bull charges him he tried to take it front on, around the horns, in a bear hug. Just like tackling Jonah Lomu, or Plugger Lockett except 5 times the weight.


Bullfights are not just the pega. As was explained to me at the bullfight I watched “there are some tasks to be undertaken with the bull”. Mostly involving a guy on a horse riding around poking spears into the bull and then riding around the ring to lap up the adulation. It becomes mesmerising, with the pomp and ceremony, a glimpse of an ancient and primitive world. As a spectacle it’s at its best in the early stages, when the bull is racing around the ring like someone’s pulled his tail and ran away. Later on when the bull has been injured more and becomes tired and afraid the cruelty of it does hit home, as if on cue the brass band starts up to provide some entertainment and tell the cavaleiro to hurry up and get it over with.

The truly amazing part is the horses – not only are they beautiful and groomed for the occasion, but the way they can bend and swerve (like Juddy!), even dance, and show no fear with a bull in front of them is breathtaking. Here then is horsey pics/p0rn for those who appreciate such things.

Yes my mind is turning back to Australia at the moment but even at the time it struck me of the similarity between bullfights and cricket games. Not just the arena ringed with a beer-drinking crowd roaring at something which didn't seem that interesting. Most of the Portuguese I talked to mostly went to and enjoyed bullfights as kids, usually with their dad/grandfathers, now they’re older it’s not so cool and they don’t enjoy it as much because they understand the cruelty (OK not so similar to cricket there), but they also see the tradition as valuable and admit they will probably take their kids/grandkids. The trend among 20-30 year olds at the moment is it's “cool” to be traditional, to enjoy traditional food, Portuguese beer, and enjoy bullfighting. I’m reminded of the fake country boys in Perth, in immaculately pressed moleskins and Country Road flannelette shirts talking about a land they’d never had to work, about roo-shooting they’d never had to do to protect a farm. The Portuguese guys even dress in flannies too.

its too damn hot

I would love to go to sleep but my bedroom is too hot to consider it. Last night I slept downstairs on the couch cos it was cooler, tonight I'm sitting at my open window watching/listening to the rest of my square enjoying the cool evening sitting on the benches under the palm trees catching up on the days news and watching the cars drive by.

The last week has been consistently 40 so the TV (always good with the obvious) is currently running "It's hot" stories and illuminating vox pops "Are you hot?" "Yes" "How do you cope?' "I'm going to have a snooze later" - its the time of year for a 'sesto' after lunch but I've been warned that anymore that half an hour leaves you feeling worse than you did before. I would share a photo of summer here but outside is blinding white light reflecting from the white walls and empty streets. Like Australia everyones hiding from the heat inside or at the beach.I couldn't be bothered driving today but luckily Montemor has another option - the pool! (though most locals don't go, Alentejanos don't really like getting wet) Like any country town you can get away with anything if you're mates with the lifeguards, my Aussie readers will be ashamed to hear I've lost my bombing skills. It's actually a bit of a Piss-weak Waterworld (apologies to the D-Gen) - the slowest and shortest waterslide in history (after waiting 20 minutes), a wave pool which creates backwash, a 40m pool which is empty since no-one actually does laps though the sides are full (much cooler to swim one lap then sit on the side posing for a bit), a diving pool with a queue for the 10m board and no-one using any other (see what's cool above). All for the bargain price of A$6/3.50euros on weekends. But its still a good way to cool down and while away a summer afternoon, and nice to get wet.

Pequena coisas 4: summer

Summer has crept up and suddenly it's 37 in the afternoon. A more reliable thermometer is the old man who owns the lambs changing from wearing a shirt and trousers with no fly (sheepskin jacket on cold mornings) to a white singlet and some classy boardshorts. Flat cap still in place of course. In the last couple of days the humidity has decided to come to the party as well making the afternoon that much longer, reminding me of the Pilbara wet as the clouds gather and darken.

****

The GNR have solved the problem of non-payment of fines very easily - pay on the spot, or we keep your license. Don't have money - well get some. But we do accept all major cards. The sight of a cop with an mobile EFTPOS/ Multibanco/Interac/electronic payment machine by the side of a country machine is a little surreal, in fact the whole transaction is. There's an element of "Thank you, come again" as if you'd just popped out for tremocos, chips and a speeding fine.

****
storks stand tall / on nest perched high
while clouds gather / and drivers speed by
vigil constant / like watchers of old
no tower now / simply these poles
sentries unfailing / despite world changing

VII congresso nacional

Last week was the national geology conference in Estremoz, held in the town theatre and the old convent and run by the government and the universities. For those who are not geologists/academics looking at this photo imagining afternoon beers in the garden and lunch/dinner under the cloisters instead of learning are all you need before you read the next post or the next blog :) The programme was made up mostly of research in Portuguese geology - structural geology, stratigraphy, tectonic evolution, geochemistry (dating, isotopic data), fossils/sedimentology. A half day of "Resources Geology" included 90% of the talks on mineralisation, uniquely these included talks on ornamental stone (marble) and economic clay/feldspar deposits. More time was spent on environmental geology and "surface processes". Understandable given that this was a scientific conference not a industry or resources-focused conference, but economic geology still makes up a large part of scientific conferences in Australia, especially the national ones. Also these conferences attract more national/international scientists so talks will cover a variety of locations if not different branches of the science. But Portugal is not a large country, and therefore this was similar to some of the smaller state geology conferences.

Having been in industry for a while "academic" geology is a little frustrating, Differences in opinion in geology are normal as its an interpretative science, but because academia involves researching in schools new data is often taken to prove or disprove that groups theories instead of leading to new conclusions. Such proof is essential not only in the dash for government grants but also in continuing age-old academic battles about where to draw the line in the sand (literally in geology!). In industry we have the advantage that interpretation is essential but we don't have to prove or disprove our own, if it turns out not to work then we try another way. Often we can test two or three different interpretations in one work programme, and because our aim is a resource then the assays, the numbers are hard proof of what's right or wrong. So going back to watching arguments about how old this formation is or when this tectonic event ended or sitting through Powerpoint slide after (not viewer friendly) slide of geochemical/isotope data without any apparently conclusions makes you want to scream. Or bunk off and have a beer in the square!
It can also go over a simple rig geo's head talking about supercontinents, Wilson cycles and thermal gradients. But the big picture, the talk of how our world developed, evolved and is changing today can spark you too. I got to hear Antonio Ribeiro, the inspiration for much of Portugal's geologists/research today, photographed above as he transformed from stooping, grey mustached elderly man into an arm-waving prophet, animated by the force of his ideas. It was the presentation you expect from an elder statesman, a million OHPs whipped off the projector almost as fast as they were placed there, usually upside down/the wrong way round, faded photos of different outcrops/cliffs, hand-drawn diagrams, images photocopied from different papers and even magazines.

Festas

Waiting for the party to start

Summer is the time for town parties/country fairs. Last night Sao Brissos, next week Sao Christovao, then Escoural, the timetable is set in stone. At first glance they're not that different to a country show: lights, bunting and shadecloth shelters outside, plastic chairs and tables, old men drinking, housewives cooking, teenage girls serving and more people on the organising committee and behind the scenes than actually at the fair. However they're at night instead of during the day, the music is pumping and its definitely more of a party than a fair of stalls/exhibits. Apparently Ricardo got home at 3.30 last night, doesnt sound like too many shows!!!

Somewhere in there my name got forward to play football for Sao Brissos this morning, but when I went down at 9 this morning there was no-one there anyway. Lost in translation? However it did mean I could take some photos of the cork harvest for you, trucks piled dangerously high with bark have been driving through town for the last month and will continue to do so all summer.

Estremoz

Montemor-O-Novo, Arraiolos, Evora, Evoramonte, Estremoz, Vila Vicosa, Borba and Elvas are the hilltop castle towns forming a chain from Lisbon to the Spanish border. Estremoz is one of my favourite towns for two reasons - the view of the castle tower and walls from the autostrada:
and the fact it has one of the biggest main squares in the country:

Along one side of the square is the church above, along the other the old Convent (now a science museum), the Army barracks opposite the church and on the last side is a line of cafes perfect for having a beer in the shade on a hot day when you're bunking off a conference (more on that later):
Thats the barracks in the background. As is typical of the area there's marble everywhere - statues, tiles, mosaics, cobbles, fountains:
Estremoz is the first time I've been in a Portuguese theatre, while this one has renovated with unpolished marble (radical!) it still retains the gold trim and painted ceiling. The family name and portrait painted on their theatre box (as seen on the upper level of yesterdays photo) is typical of these town theatres which were mostly built in the late 1900s.

And now its final

Dear Attendee,
Although the Organising Commitee knows that nothing would keep you away from the National Conference you signed up for, we know that on the first night Portugal plays in the semi-finals and ....

Therefore we have organised to show the game on a big screen in the Bernardim Ribeiro Theater after the Conference sessions for that day, and the conference dinner will be served immediately at the end of the game instead of 9pm.
Shows you how football-mad we are that even a geology conference gets reorganised around the World Cup. Lots of disappointed people in Portugal tonight. Someone remarked "Today everyone is interested in football", well tomorrow I think there will be a lot of people saying its just a silly game again. The real reason Portugal lost is because I wasn't watching in the Regalenga Bar, Jose wasn't in Lisbon, Nuno wasn't in Figueira. Superstition means nothing in sport right? Well consider that Holland haven't beaten Portugal in 14 years, England haven't beaten them since '66 (?? - loose stat, but it's been a long time anyway) and Portugal haven't beaten France in 21 years. Doesn't make sense when you consider all the variables involved but it all becomes very predictable.......

And so both the teams I'm closest to fall victim to dodgy penalty decisions. Ironic given Portugal's progress thus far has been marked (aided at times) by dodgy refereeing. English papers in particular are vitriolic at the moment about the Portuguese style of play, and while I hate diving and play acting I've kind of enjoyed barracking for a team that does use a bit of "gamemanship" at times. Given how close a lot of these decisions are there isn't a lot wrong with appealing to the ref to make a call, especially since there often is contact made, a foot outstretched, a hand on the shoulder so really the opposition are pretty stupid to give them the chance. But they love to play too - all the people I was watching it with loved the final minutes with the goalkeeper in the box for the corners, shots taken from anywhere, no holds barred, nothing to chance. None of this sit back and play carefully. Metaphor for life anyone?

Aftermath

Anticipation

The streets are eerily quiet. No shouting, no cars, no mopeds. Only some birds. Everyone has taken up their position for the game. But earlier the shops and the streets were full of people trying to finish their shopping before game time, buying beer and snacks.

The television isn't. All day every channel has been building and building to the game, interviews with people in streets and bars around Portugal, in Germany, players, trainers, journalists, anyone. In between there's songs and dancing from the sort of "light" "popular" entertainers who only emerge for occasions like this, decked in flags, scarves and Portugal tops, cheesy commerical songs, adaptions of traditional ones, all backed by an even cheesier accordion, brass band and drum machine.

Woe if you're trying to find a Portugal t-shirt to fit in with the crowd. In a small town the shops are already sold out, and to make matters worse everyone is wearing their own already at 11am, as if to make the point that the true supporters are prepared, and not just jumping on the bandwagon on game day. After an hour and a half trawling the discount shops and bazaars I finally have one, so with that and a Euro 2004 scarf I was given last week I have 22 minutes to get to the pub. Forca Portugal!