Everton I love you more than life itself

Lisbon, Thursday 20 October

It was pouring in Barcelona this morning when I left. With no speed limit (or none that I could notice) the taxi driver raced me hell for leather to the airport. The roads were a bit slippery and I did wonder a couple of times if we were going to make it. He was trying to have a conversation with me but couldn’t speak any English so kept turning around and gesturing to try and communicate, not the best approach to reassure passengers even in dry weather. Still we made it in one piece, a good thing in the end as I needed the extra time to deal with my ticketing with TAP the Portuguese airline I flew with. The system was down, never a good omen, and so they were handwriting all the tickets then they couldn’t find my online reservation. The laptop saved me a lot of bother when I whipped it out to show the payment and confirmation. I think the distraction also saved me extra baggage costs. (My checked in luggage weighed 25 kg, I am only allowed 20 kg. My new cabin bag has the heavy stuff in it. I did notice the kind man who lifted it into the overhead locker for me stretched his arm several times afterwards - I do hope he didn’t do any damage.)

While I was queuing I was surrounded by eight rowdy Northern England soccer fans, older boys away to Lisbon for the weekend. It was only 10 o’clock and they had been drinking already to feel better from the night before. I know this, along with the other 250 people in ear shot, because they told each other…again and again and again. I got to move on thankfully but (Fatima where are you when I need you) found myself sitting across from the two loudest on the plane. They reeked of alcohol, swore like soccer fans and after they got bored with talking about themselves…which took a while…they then moved on to more fantasy describing in detail the sexual activities the air stewardesses were going to bestow on them (clearly due to their irresistible masculinity, good looks and charm). At that point we got the ok to remove seat belts so I turned technical and plugged into my ipod and the noise elimination head phones our national airline gave me last year. Thank you Air New Zealand, they are a winner.

Two hours later I arrived in sunny Lisbon. It was 19 degrees according to the street temperature board. I have to say though that 19 here feels like a Wellington 23. It was lovely not hot but warm. I am now starting to suspect conspiracy by our temperature people, are they just making them up?

Yesterday I cancelled my accommodation at the pensione in Belem to change to a mid town hotel. It’s a business hotel and perfectly fine but doesn’t have the x factor of the Raval. I wanted to make the most of being on foot. Having adventured into Belem accidentally on the street car when I was here a couple of weeks ago, I prefer not to be doing that at night on my own and as I have seen most of the Belem highlights I can easily go back there during the day. It turns out that I am on the Lisbon equivalent to the Champs Elysee, while not cheap it is a special Expedia price and the convenience and security factor make up for it as far as I am concerned.

I unpacked and headed to the centre of town, Rossio Square, which is about a 15 minute walk, it was very very busy, too busy. As I got closer I realised that there were a lot of English accents and, a lot of blue tee shirts around. Then I heard chanting. Football chanting. I crossed the block to the square and there taking up the picturesque centre, and ruining my photo, was a mass of beer swilling football club supporters alongside a huge banner that said “Everton I love you more than life itself”. I bet you do.

I still strolled the streets, dodging the blue, but I had to take sanctuary in the shops every now and again and even then the musical compilations were playing much louder than usual, definitely an attempt to drown out the noise.

The action had something to do with the European play offs and was short lived (I hope). On my way back to the hotel bus after bus after bus was escorted out of town by what looked like the whole of the Lisbon motor cycle police. The police were loving it, sirens, lights and zip zapping between the traffic including through the reds traffic lights, I am sure one of them even attempted a hand stand. I would have too if I knew I had a football supporter free Lisbon tomorrow.

Pic is of the square, my photo was at the end of the day from the wrong end imagine chanting of here we go, here we go, cars honking, beers spilling and people wandering everywhere.