Portugal in the Box – #23

Saturday 21rd June 2008

Vila Cha

„„… I am walking alone through a big town abroad. At each corner appears an old witchy woman, with long white hair, clothed in a long black coat, and everytime when I meet her she stops walking, stares at me and starts singing:
„I want my wonderful red wine
Oh yeah this is what I want!“
And then she starts laughing with an open mouth and I can see that she has no teeth at all.
It is night then and Kevin has joined me. We are walking through an illuminated immense fort. Here and there are lovers sitting, embracing, looking at the moon, not moving, but making some kind of prayer.
Somebody tells us that is a place for lovers, and that we seem such great lovers ourselves, that there is even a better place for lovers, it is the park of the local research institute by the sea. We go there, enter it. We are at once followed by a group of lovers, all quite old. The witchy old woman is there too, but alone.
A man says in german:
„Hey, Kev, you are such a wonderful lover, I wish to become one myself…“
Kevin laughed and I just wondered where this German guy knew him from. He told us too to go the stage, sit there and listen. There was a little ampitheatre made of stones, and many couples were sitting there already. A young woman came on stage and started singing very low with a very soft voice. The witchy woman once again stared at me and sang her red wine song and laughed. I felt awful and wanted to go, but Kevin wanted to see more of the gig.
Then a man came to her on stage and said:
„Now , you will watch the topless part“
At that moment I heard a deep sound of motors. I looked in the direction where it came from and I saw 3 tanks, connected to each other by an iron bar, driving all around the fort and the instítute.
They drove on only two wheels, from the outer tank, and they above all drove up all the walls. Then they came near while the man on stage was ripping off the top of the singer and her breasts were revealed. The three tanks started driving up her body from behind, entered her body in the back and came out again in front through the naked breasts and destroyed them,. The singer´s body was pulled away by the tanks.
„Why don´t they do that with the politicians instead of with musicians?“
asked Kevin, very angry. The German guy answered:
„Because politicians are a matter of politics…“

I read a comment the other day telling me that my way of writing does not make clear what is a dream and what is not. Well, if my real life was like my dreams, I don´t believe I would still be around!!!!
Anyway, before I read that comment, I had started myself to put my dreams between speech marks and suspension points. But in fact I don´t really want to separate them strongly. For me who lives this trip and these dreams it is extraordinary to see how my brain creates the dreams out of the daily life, and it sometimes it becomes quite difficult even for me to separate one from the other. They are like Siamese twins. They belong together. So please, take them as such, and know that my life on this trip is both of them… Never before in my life had I so much the feeling that my real world and my dream world are so deeply and so obviously interconnected!

Anyway… we had a quiet, relaxing day at the camping today, more forced by the weather than by our will. This, unfortunately, allowed us to participate fully in a Portuguese camping life at the weekends. Quite early in the morning, a lot of cars invaded the camping. All Portuguese families who have their tents, caravans or motorhomes permanently here and come to spend their weekends. A lot of movement and noises.. But the worst being that about midday each of them started a barbecue, most of them grilling fish. Now I must tell you: I hate fish and the smell alone makes me feel sick. This means that I spent some uncomfortable hours today, above all because we were making the big washing by the washing machines which stood in the sanitary building in the middle of the camping! We had to walk many times through the barbecue smoke, pure horror for me! I just hope that our clothes won´t get the smell when we hang them outside to dry….
The afternoon was spent quietly with some reading and painting. Kevin looked at some music video and at some point started wildly accompanying Prince on his bass guitar. So wild that the motorhome was swinging in all directions and I could not get straight the masts of the big boat we saw yesterday! I really wonder what the people outside were thinking was going on in our motorhome! When you think that we both look quite different and much younger than 99% of the European motorhomes and caravaning population, I am sure that they thought a wild sex party was going on inside here…

Late afternoon we had a short bike ride to the beach and the little fishing harbour, but everything was grey, and it was quite cold, and I could not get the right inspiration to draw really, so we rode back to the camping. But even in these 30 minutes outside we saw so many stupefying things, I would need an entire book to write about them. The harbour was an incredible amount of stuff, little and big houses, half boats, barrels, thousands of flags, tyres, masts, plastic boxes, nets, pieces of wood everywhere, ropes, iron, old clothes, cats, men, dead fish, and a thousand unrecognisable other things, everything more or less piled upon each other in an indescribable chaos.
And then we saw a small house with 3 enormous iron statues on its roof, represernting something which looked like two Demons and the personified Death, all of them following a kind of dragon made out of iron and ceramics. The whole being almost as big as the house itself. No wonder that I get these weird dreams in Portugal!


2 Responses to “Portugal in the Box – #23”

  1. mimulus Says:

    Hi, Miki! How are you two doing there?
    I’ve been travelling a bit around Portugal through your impressions 🙂
    Keep on sharing them with us.

  2. helenl Says:

    Hi Miki, You writing does make clear what is a dream and what happens when you are awake. But who cares? Except for the “I’d be dead” part. LOL I love dreams. And a friend says, she’s “living her own fiction.” I live my poems, too.

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