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November 21 Monday Bicycle touring Portugal from Lisbon Portugal to Lisboa Portugal I tried to sleep in, but when the campground is sandwiched between the freeway and the flight path for the airport this turned into an impossible feat for me, even though I was dog tired from our frenzied bicycle touring ride to the airport. I kind of succeeded until 10 AM (I was more or less hoping for noon at least), then I got up and hit the showers. I tried to run the hot water out on the shower but failed. This is the most hot water we have seen since we started our cycle tour in Europe. On my way out of the shower building I look up at the roof. There is a massive array of solar panels sitting up there. So that's how they do it! Guess they might as well take advantage of that sun. Yesterday, we saw two huge nuclear reactors on our approach to Lisbon, about 100 km away. Lisbon itself is squashed amongst the surrounding hills, the Rio Tejo River, and the Atlantic Ocean. When we were cycling in, looking at all the water and hills, I was wondering where on earth are they going to put an airport? Lisbon is quite compact. The airport turned out to be in the city's north end, about 5 miles from city center. There are many high-rises and lots of congestion. Sharon took her bike and headed for the Jumbo supermarket. Susan and I went to the cafe-bar for a café-o- lait and to wait for her bike to hopefully arrive. While Sharon was out scouring the extra-large Jumbo supermarket, Susan and I discovered a large food store around the side of the campground complex. It is well stocked with everything we need, including fruit. A post office and barbecue pit that are normally open in the summer are closed, since it is winter and there is hardly anyone here. Somewhat interestingly though, there's a couple of touring cyclists here in a tent just below ours. But we are far too tired to even make the effort to be friendly towards them. I did say hi to them as I walked past, but we didn't talk to them. They seem a bit anti-social themselves, so we leave each other alone. They have strung a laundry line between a tree and their bicycle handlebars. I guess the thinking is: If anyone steals our touring bikes, they may as well have our cycling clothes as well. Susan and I wandered around a gift and souvenir shop or "junk" as Susan called it, until the workers kicked us out at 1:10 PM for siesta time. They have English-Portuguese phrase books and dictionaries, plus a lot of novels in English. There are also newspapers and magazines in English, but prices are steep. Books start at $20. The airport claims department said to call at noon to check on the bike, so Susan and I first strolled to the campground office to enquire if a bike had been delivered. No such luck. We head to a phone booth and try to figure out what coins go into the phone. A picture shows 50, 20, and 10 escuda pieces. Susan only has a 20, so she sticks that in and it works. Beginner's luck! And after I had been telling her I found phones practically impossible to use in Europe. The lost baggage folks tell Susan that her trusty touring bike has arrived and it is on its way to being delivered to the campground. She hangs up the phone and we wonder "O its way from where? Toronto? London? Paris? Madrid?" As we cross the parking lot we spy three people unloading a bike in a plastic bag. As they began dragging the bike away like some dead moose, we hurry over to claim it. It takes two hours to assemble the headset, pedals, tires, and new front pannier racks. Susan didn't have time to do put on the new bicycle pannier racks before she left Victoria. We attach holders for her front panniers, as well as her handlebar bag. I pump up her bike tires, only to discover she has a flat. I see she is going to fit right in. Sharon returns with $100 worth of groceries and soap to wash clothes -- both machine and hand washing varieties of Tide. I don't see any difference by looking at the stuff. She won a scarf in some customer promotion. Probably for the most groceries ever bought by a cyclist, I figure. It is almost 3:30 PM, so we hustle our dirty laundry into bags and take it over to the washerwomen. A washer lady says she has time to put it into the machine to wash it, but drying won't be done till tomorrow. When I ask if I can come back and take the wet clothes so I can take them downtown to dry them, I am met with "No comprehende." This continues to dominate our conversation until it is time to pay. Then her comprehende improves immensely. We eat great wholesome bread with caraway and sesame seeds. It is fantastic by itself. I could consume a whole loaf in one inhalation. We add cheese that is a creamy white substance encased in a red waxy substance. We cut off the red wax -- sure hope we're doing that right. That's half the fun about cycling in a foreign country -- the food is always different than back home. We have spiced sausage made from lamb, and tomato and cucumber sandwiches. Lots of chocolate and pudding mysteriously disappear. We think about going downtown on the bus to dry our clothes and then maybe walk around to see the city sights. But by the time we decide to do this, the laundry depot has closed and our washerwoman has left for home. All of our clothes are securely locked behind laundry bars. Maybe they'll be let out early for good behaviour? Instead of going downtown, we hand wash our rain gear and re-water proof them with Nik-wax that Susan has brought with her. (She also brought two jars of peanut butter. Instead of using it sparingly to make it last, we eat it like kids and consume an entire jar in one day.) I have another steamy hot shower and drift peacefully to sleep -- warm, dry and clean. We still haven't run the place out of hot water. |
