This morning I joined the Asian Rolling Backpack Coalition and moved my hurt butt to the airport. Yesterday, I did the arms good and walked from the Bus to the Metro and then up to Saldinha, where our hostel is.
I like walking around Saldinha, it’s familiar and comfortable because we stayed here for 4 days earlier this trip. On my way out of the Metro, a Portuguese woman came up to me and asked me something about McDonalds. I didn’t know what she meant, but I asked her if she wanted to eat there anyway, which she politely declined. I dined there anyway.
The Gulbenkian Museum was closed when I went, but the park was open. I took the time to do a sketch of the side opposite the ampitheater. Pen sketch, no watercolor.
Last night I wrote an essay on Jean Baptiste Sieur-le Moyene de Bienville. He had tattoos, which was odd for the 21-year-old founder and governor of New Orleans. He did them to signify his relations with local American Indian tribes, with whom he spoke in their native tongue.
Bienville fit the “libertine,” character, but his personality carried him into history.
All of the words I remember in Portuguese pertain to food. Obrigado, thank you. Formaccio, cheese. Caffe con leche, coffe with milk. Bom dia, good day. That’s about it. Last night I practiced my Spanish and Portuguese with some Brazilians– let’s just say they were more interested in speaking their native tongue.
I will include more pictures in the next post-I’m stirring to get in the airplane. Hoping to submit my essay.
Peace!
Chadd G Hippensteel 