Portugal - Dia Três, Edição Um

On the commuter train to Belem, then Cascais. Apparently my attempts at Portuguese sound like Retard. I ordered a coffee and custard tart OK - "Um cafe, por favor, e um... [points to custard tart]." but I have trouble telling the coins apart, since the 1, 2 and 5-cent coins all look like pennies. I have to look at the number on each, which takes a while. The waitress/cashier didn't have enough change to break my €10 bill, so she asked me for a 5. I thought she meant a €5 bill, which I didn't have. I stood there counting all my copper pieces, trying to scrounge up exact change for my €1.55 bill. Finally, she gave up, held up five fingers, and said in English, "Five." I showed her what I had in my hand.She shook her head and took a coin from my hand. "Five. Thank you." I'm bad at this. But at least I'm here. My students had never heard of Portugal until I booked this trip.

I'm sleepy, but I can't fall asleep and miss my stop. I almost did that on the Metro. Campo Pequeno to Campo Grande for a transfer, then to the end of the Linha Verde at Cais de Sodre ("Where Do You Go to, My Lovely?" by Peter Sarstedt - from Darjeeling Limited - keeps coming on my iPod and making me giggle).

The commuter train goes right along the Tagus River. On one side, across the river, is a monstrous, Golden Gate-looking bridge with a Touchdown Jesus and castles behind it. On the other, bourgeois-looking homes, a la Malibu. Ouch. That tiny coffee gave me heartburn.

I got on a motherfucking express train! It totally skipped Belem. I thought I missed it, so I got back on, going the other way. Skipped again. then when I tried to get off at the next stop, I didn't realize that the doors weren't automatic, and got laughed at. Luckily, the girl laughing at me hardest spoke some English and explained the express/local thing (we don't have this in DC). So I got back out at Cais de Sodre and wandered around looking for a fucking train guide in English (or Spanish, or motherfucking Germans), until the chain-smoking man who kept staring at me came across the platform to help. He spoke a little less English than the laughing girl, but put me on the right train (hey, thanks for not being a rapist). So forty minutes later, I'm off to Belem again.