Portugal Day 1: Lisbon and the Concussive Kisses

Sitting in a hostel eating fresh cherries and watching flies drift lazily about feels like vacation.

I arrived in Lisbon full of confidence.  I had found my way through Madrid, a city so twisty-turny it seems actively engaged in getting you lost.  I had traversed Marrakech, which is specifically designed to get you lost in the souks until you spend all your money.  How hard could Lisbon, the capitol of a country a third of the size of the others, be?

The answer is fuck Europe.  For some reason Europeans have decided they're too good for street signs.  All that carrying on an telling people where they're going, nooooo, that's too easy.  Too...American.

So after not sleeping for a night, I bumbled into a city that would make a mapmaker commit suicide, if he could ever find a cliff to throw himself off of.  The sidewalks are painfully narrow, the cars are blindingly fast and the streets are made out of what looks like bathroom tile.  It's slippery enough without rain, I have no idea  what people do when it rains.  Maybe they just all live downhill.  The rain's like some kind of new public transit system.

But once I showered and made myself a real person again, I started to really get into the city.  What Spain does with mountains, it does with giant plazas.  Lisbon is, I'm going to venture a guess, 50% plazas.  I ran into at least ten of them, all with enormous columns with Greco-Roman statues doing dramatic things.  One of them, which I now can't find the name of, is a guy uppercutting two horses.

I kid you not, it's the most badass statue ever.  There's two angry horses on either side of him flanked by two giant vipers.  The name was the spiirt of Portugal or something.  Apparently Portugal is hardcore.

This fact is borne out by the Archaeological Museum.  It's situated on a cliff (like everything in Lisbon) and fills the ruined shell of an awesome gothic cathedral.  The exhibits contain random bits of ruins as well as mummies and arrowheads.  I don't know why, there's not really any narrative to it, but it's awesome.  It's like an action movie museum.  You don't need to understand to go "oooo" and "ahhhh".

But anyway, the title of this post pertains to something I've noticed about both Spain and Portugal.  Spanish and Portuguese couples kiss VERY loudly.  I was sitting on a subway and I see this couple getting all close and I'm like isn't that cute.  And then their lips touched.

At first I wondered if it was terrorists, if they had set some kind of public display of affection bomb, a PDAWMD if you will, set to go off when the two lips met.  The sound was something like two wet microphones being slapped against each other, it was deafening.

 I've never been so nauseated and turned on at the same time.

Then I thought, think of the weapons potential here! Rather than drop bombs on other countries, all you have to do is line up a few amorous couples in front of the enemy.  The sound will be enough to end any struggle.

This realization has made me somewhat frightened by the double-kiss.  Now I know within Spainish and Portuguese lips hide explosive potential.  Kissing that close to my ear could deafen me instantly.  Who knows if they need a matching pair as a catalyst?

Oh yes, be afraid ladies and gentlemen.  Hispanic lips carry a terrible secret.  And who knows.

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