Portuguese enclave

The other day we went to South Lambeth, a neighbourhood full of Portuguese bars, restaurants, shops and bakeries. It was great fun, not only because we ate “bolinhos de bacalhau” and drank “Sagres”, but mostly because of the experience of doing social tourism. We went to Estrela Bar, where we had a delicious meal and observed manuels and marias coming for a “bica”, a chat and watch TV. Yes, because there’s no decent Portuguese bar that doesn’t have at least one screaming TV on. The manuels wearing colourful shirts showing their hairy chest and a golden chain. The marias wearing clothes two sizes too small and too much makeup and perfume. Some things never change. The customers arrived in their sports pimped cars or on their flashy motorbikes, stopped in front of the terrace, accelerated making as much noise possible and then went to look for a parking place. This way you guarantee everyone has seen you. I couldn’t avoid listening to this lady talking on the mobile complaining about the draughts that made her feel so ill and talking about someone they knew (“ai estas correntes de ar que me dao cabo da saude” e “nao quero estar aqui a falar mal de ninguem, mas essa rapariga… nao quero dar opinioes, mas sabe como e’, a rapariga nao tem emenda”). It was a genuine Portuguese place, in all aspects: food, waiters, customers, decoration, smell and atmosphere. So Portuguese, I loved it and S. too.
We are for sure going back not only to buy some Portuguese delis but to make sure I don’t forget my roots.

Royal Mail

This Christmas I sent all the presents to my family by mail, a big heavy box, full of nice wrapped gifts. I mailed it two weeks before Christmas but as one month later it hadn’t been delivered, I went to the post office to complain. I got a form I was instructed to fill out, attach the original receipts and then send it by mail to Customer Service, which I did. I never got a reply from the Customer Service and do you know why not? They didn’t receive my complaint! Long live the Royal Mail!

Londres primeiro estranha-se, depois entranha-se

Chronically tired

A friend once told me: “You are always tired”. Apparently when I am asked about how am I doing, I very often say: “I am tired”. I felt a bit embarrassed because I have a relaxed life, why should I feel tired all the time? The truth is I do. I get tired if I don’t sleep eight hours a night, if I am in a noisy environment, if I don’t spend enough time alone and if I don’t eat well. I am weak and I look grey. From that day on I started paying more attention to other people’s lives, like one of my work colleagues who has three kids and who I never heard complain. Even more, she is always smiling. How does she do it?
I have a lot of respect for working mothers (and some working fathers). After a day at work all I want is a nice dinner and some silence. I guess mothers don’t get much of it. Like they often do not get enough sleep and that would just kill me. I can’t even imagine travelling with kids, carrying toys, food, clothes, looking for a toilet and making sure they don’t get lost. It is not an easy life and social pressure does not help much as mothers are made to feel guilty about their decision to continue working and made to feel guilty if they decide to stay at home. Heartless career makers versus no ambition.
Once, in the train, a man made a nasty remark about a woman that was putting on makeup, she stood up and said that she’s been up for more than 2 hours, she’s been running around, showering, dressing up and feeding the kids, preparing lunch boxes and planning dinner, and therefore she feels entitled to try to make her face look less tired in the train, her only quiet moment of her day. I felt like clapping and the man felt embarrassed.

Time is a measure of change

I am not enjoying aging. Physically I mean. Wine should age, not me! It all started when I realized I couldn’t eat as much as I used to, not only because I would put on weight but mostly because my stomach just couldn’t take it anymore. Then I started having difficulties reading small or far away signs. I know I should wear glasses not in my handbag but on my face. Then there was the shock of accepting I can’t wear low waist jeans anymore. Soon enough my teeth will start falling and if that happens it will be a complete disaster. The other day I looked at my face very close in the mirror and I saw lots of tiny little wrinkles, I also inspected my hair, luckily no grey hair yet. I compared recent pictures with pictures taken ten years ago, it is still the same me but a younger me. How come I didn’t notice my skin and my body changed? It must have happened very slowly during the night. I feel like time is going by faster as I grow older and can’t keep track of changes any longer. As S. would say, it’s all downhill from now on.

What would you like for breakfast? 6% fat, 5% fibre and 60% carbohydrates?

When I am eating I don’t want to know how many calories my food has, as I don’t want to know if it has any vitamins, iron or fibre. I was having breakfast in a hotel the other day and I noticed food was labelled in an interesting way: muesli was fibre, pomegranate juice was anti-oxidant, eggs were protein, and fruit salad was vitamins. This labelling was only in the continental breakfast and I understand why, those eating English breakfast probably don’t want to read on the label: fat, cholesterol and salt!
In the supermarket every single product has a sticker with the nutritional value, which doesn’t seem to help much because when I look around everybody is eating crisps and burgers. It is an interesting society obsessed with being famous, slim and healthy but apparently only in theory because in practice people in general look a bit fat and unhealthy.

Oh, my arms, my legs!

While living in Holland I was quite regular at the gym and I cycled a lot. I was far from being Miss Muscle but I was fit. Unfortunately during the last six months I’ve been as active as a vegetable! Yesterday after eating two delicious calorie bombs from Ottolenghi, I decided to go to the gym. I don’t know if it was the sugar or the nice music playing, but I stayed there too long and I am now paying for it. My whole body aches. I forgot how muscle pain feels like. It feels bad.
Have to go again today.