Portugal

Sometimes you have to make sacrifices.

In Porto, Portugal, my scarf was sacrificed. Sacrificed in the name of cleaning the cum off someone’s back. My pants were sacrificed from fucking on the ground behind a car parked in the most conspicuous place in the city. My intentions to bang a Portuguese girl were sacrificed when I found out they don’t put out on the first night (and thus a Portuguese SPEAKER made a suitable replacement). And then my hot-streak of banging girls outdoors was sacrificed in Lisbon mere days later, when me and a second Brazilian had sex indoors, like normal people.

At least my streak of banging ONLY LATINAS in Europe is still alive and well, continuing from my first journey here 10 years ago. Is that a good thing? Well, who knows? I’ve more or less accepted that European girls don’t wanna be banging someone who looks just like them. And EVERYBODY thinks I’m German. Even the drug dealers selling “marijuana” (actually a bag of beer hops) all try and get me to buy drugs by telling me that they already know I’m from Berlin. Hey, fake drug guys! I’ve got a message for you: fool me once, shame on… shame on you…

But you’re not here to hear about Third Reich World Problems. You wanna hear about Portugal. Is it great? Yes. It’s a real kick in the pants. And I’m talking besides the banging. Like did you know,

It’s cheap as fuck? Like yo! Are you Portuguese dudes guys eating enough, because I feel like I’m cheating you out of your salary eating this good for this little. I mean, maybe you should eat more anyway, you’re all pretty short… and it’s impossible to find a shoe over 45 centimeters (or whatever unit of measurement that is) in this country. I had to go to Foot Locker to find shoes, and YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I GO INTO FOOT LOCKER?? I see a bunch of referees working the shop and start playing a pickup game of basketball with whatever customers are in the store and then I start knocking shelves over and then I get a technical foul called on me and I get fined 10,000 dollars and have to sit out the next three games as a starter for the Chicago Bulls. I’m sure you all heard about that one.

On the food front in Portugal, the motherfucking francesinha is the boss of the world. If you eat it you will be like WHAT IS THIS GOING INTO MY MOUTH RIGHT NOW? Well, it’s bread, a shitload of meats, egg and cheese on top, and a beer sauce swimming around it and a sea of french fries. Here’s a pic of it:

ALL of the food I had was good in Portugal. I heard someone remark that Portuguese deep fry things that shouldn’t be fried, but why would you NOT wanna fry everything? My cereal tastes better fried than it does with milk in it, amiriteladies??

The other thing that felt good about being there (especially after France) is that you can get by with speaking absolutely no Portuguese. This may sound peculiar, but I had a conversation with a guy, me speaking Spanish, him speaking Portuguese, and I was able to understand everything he was saying. Especially the “get the fuck out of my store” part.

The two are similar languages, but usually Spanish speakers can’t understand Portuguese. Portuguese can understand Spanish perfectly though. BUT Brazilians will have some difficulty understanding the SAME language due to the Portuguese having a “harsh accent”. Isn’t that curious? A little? Sexually? Sexually curious? Putting a carrot in your pussy? Does it feel like the radish? Remember the radish you got stuck in your pussy? Because you learned you didn’t have a pussy, just a penis with a really big hole? And the radish got stuck in the hoooookay let’s move on.

Comparing the two major cities, Porto and Lisbon—>Lisbon is a lot of hills. Whereas Porto is like one big hill. Lisbon is going up and down, snaking all over the place. It’s not very picturesque because you can’t really get a sense of depth with all the windy roads. And there are monorails going up these streets too, which I suppose are nice, if you are into that kinda thing.

There’s a type of music big in Lisbon called Fado. It’s basically two guitarists and a girl singing emotionally charged songs about death over them. I mean I don’t know if they are about death because I couldn’t understand the lyrics, but I can pontificate from the depressing style of singing that it was. And while the lady sings you aren’t supposed to eat or do anything with your plate and just be quiet for 15 minutes. No thanks.

The nightlife in Portugal is good and goes late and you can DRINK IN THE STREET unlike over in Spain (seriously just UGH). You can get these little bottles of beer at a Porto bar called 77 for .50 cents. And as is par for the course in most European countries, clubs stay open until 6 or 7 AM. We went to one club called Plano B in Porto and my Brazilian friend-of-the-night warned me “they don’t let you in unless the bouncer likes you”. Luckily the bouncer was gay as hell and looked at my bearded Brazilian friend and said “bring your +1 in here you big silly boy you”. So we got in and I felt like I had infiltrated a bank vault or something. And then I resisted getting post-club McDonald’s that night AND the next night, and aside from my first night in Madrid where the Argentine twins took me for some late night McNuggets, this has been a trip void of American fast food. Yes. Score one for the terrorists.

What else? Well for one I feel like Portuguese girls “have a look”. You can see some commonalities in their physical appearance, something I don’t really see in Spain. And despite someone telling me months ago that Portuguese “are the ugliest in Europe”, I’d say they are quite attractive. There’s girls with curly hair and shit, which ya know could be hot, if you’re into that sort of thing.

I also saw a fuck ton of dog owners, because, get this—if you own a dog, you get a tax-write off with the government. You can list them as your “partner” to save yourself some bread. My host in Lisbon took me for a looooong walk around the city (13,000+ steps) my first day there, and his dog, a little red schnauzer thing, was looking to pop her cherry, and my host wanted her to have puppies—selectively—with another dog of the same breed. So we walked around pimping the dog out basically, and I can say I’ve never been prouder that I was to write “dog pimp” on my CV the next day. Didn’t get a callback yet though.

Lastly, since I did a walking tour while I was there, and I NEVER do that shit, I learned a little about Portuguese history. They were ruled by the Spanish for like 70 years by some shitty king but then they got their independence back. They have the longest standing cooperative clause with the British, going back to around the 1100’s. They were totally neutral during the World War. And they depict their history on these type of blue tiles which are painted and placed all over the cities and train stations and shit like that. History buffs would love this shit. I am not a history buff. So there is a good chance that nothing I said in this paragraph is true. That’s up to YOU to find out.

Well, that’s basically Portugal in a nutshell. Will I go back? Yes. What would I rank it? Uh, let’s say 9 Cristiano Ronaldo’s out of 10 Pele’s. Which is a fancy way of saying it sucked.

Titties. Which is a great thing to suck. Visit Portugal. The end.