Vacation Journal: Entry #9
On the first floor of my folks beach place is a café—The Visual—that rests right on the sand. Between the Visual and the front door to the main building is a glass partition. Yesterday when I forgot my keys I knocked on the front door only to see two little Portuguese kids in the café looking at me and knocking on the partition. So I knocked on the door again. Then they knocked on the glass. I knocked again. They knocked. I knocked again. They gave me the finger and burst into laughter.
On the opposite end of the age spectrum, there is an elderly Portuguese man in town that stands on one corner all morning. Then he appears on another nearby corner all mid-afternoon. Then he appears on yet another nearby corner from mid-afternoon to evening. One explanation is that he wants to get fresh air but wants to avoid the sun and so keeps moving. Another explanation is that he has perfected teleportation but can only travel short distances because it’s hard on the knees.
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