I promised I’d write the story of the beautiful woman we met in a Paris restaurant, so here it is: Tim and I were seated at a small table by the window in a large, mostly empty restaurant. Just after ordering, the server seated a beautiful young woman at the table next to us – about four inches away. As courteous strangers do in large cities, we and she avoided eye contact to at least give a nod to privacy. Tim and I enjoyed a delicious meal and quiet conversation, while she ordered, and then ate her own dinner in silence.
Throughout the meal, we were chit-chatting with the server. We all laughed when I tried to use a French phrase, and all my brain could come up with was Portuguese. The server finally asked if we were Americans, and we confessed that we were. He was curious why we kept slipping into little Portuguese phrases, and we told him we were now living in Portugal and had flown to Paris for a long weekend. He asked a few polite questions about how we liked Portugal, and then left the table. I noticed that the young woman had stopped eating and was looking at us. She spoke quickly, saying in lovely, lilting English, “I apologize for intruding, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. You’re living in Portugal?” We confirmed that was correct, and she proceeded to tell us her story. She is Brazilian, so Portuguese is her native tongue. She is married to an American, and they live in NYC with their two young children. They have just made the decision to move the family to Lisbon in July. She said she needed only an international airport to do her job, and her husband needed only an internet connection, so they were free to live anywhere. Although her husband is obtaining Italian citizenship through his grandparents, they chose Portugal as the perfect place to raise their children. When I asked what kind of work she did that required a nearby airport, she stated simply that she was a model. Judging from her natural beauty, I wasn’t at all surprised. She wanted to know all about our reasons for moving, what our early experiences in Portugal had been like, if we were happy with our decision. She was delighted to hear our positive reviews. We had a nice conversation, and left the restaurant feeling as though we had collected more evidence that the world was on the brink of discovering our adopted country in a big way.
Now, on to a few other items that have captured my interest. First, there is an unusual custom – or I should say law – here that requires compliance by anyone who has any commercial establishment. From bookstore to a B&B, laundromat to art gallery – all commercial endeavors must provide a Complaint Book where customers can lodge any complaint they have about the way that establishment conducts business. Proprietors must post a sign telling customers about the existence of the book. When anyone logs a complaint, a numbered carbon copy is automatically created. The business owner must send the copy to a central governmental office, where it is officially registered. I’m not clear on what happens then, but there are strict fines if business owners are found to be noncompliant. I believe the watch dog agency monitors statistics about the kinds of complaints being made, and looks for patterns that might be addressed on a national level. I also assume that knowing someone is keeping track of these complaints might influence the business owner to work hard to make their customers happy before a complaint is made. I’m not sure what the pros and cons of such a system are, but it is a novel enough idea and I wanted to record it here.
Next, we were with our friend Mike the other day. He and Helena had picked us up for a lunch some distance from our apartment, to meet another American couple. Now, we were returning to their home/AirB&B to help assemble a set of bunk beds. Mike was driving around the busy downtown area looking for a parking spot in one of the public lots for which they have a permit. At a signal from a scroungy looking guy, Mike made a turn toward a particular lot. He said something like,”There’s a space in here, if my guy didn’t steer me wrong.” Sure enough, there was one open space in that lot. Mike pulled in and handed the guy two cigarettes. We were curious about this transaction, so Mike explained the system employed in cities throughout Portugal. The local government provides basic housing for folks who find themselves homeless. In the case of the guy who signaled Mike, he and his brother share the apartment provided by the city of Setubal. In exchange for the housing, the residents are offered non-paid service jobs that allow them to earn tips in the form of cash, food, or cigarettes. Mike’s guy and his brother work in a couple of adjacent parking lots, signaling passing drivers when there’s an open space available. All day long, they survey their territory and usher cars to legal parking spaces, earning enough to meet their needs, while helping to relieve congestion on the crowded city streets.
And now, I’ll add some photos of our new apartment and the fantastic views we have from our perch 10 stories up.
