…has been my mission for the last two weeks. Tired of my 9 to 6 job, I took two weeks‘ vacation and went to Portugal. Unfortunately, there were few Portuguese in the hostels I stayed in. But bloody Ozzies and Canadians had invaded the country…

“Eu falo português” (I speak Portuguese) I thought to myself, when I arrived at Lisbon airport – and managed to maintain my delusion until I sat down to wait for my backpack. When I was suddenly confronted by a lady in her forties bombarding me with questions – I understood only that they were questions, but not what they meant. So, I kindly told her, that I didn’t quite understand, she laughed awkwardly and walked away.

Totally frustrated, I found my way out of the airport and to the right bus – where I finally understood, what the driver said. Very proud of myself, I discovered only later (when the driver was talking to some friend of his) that he was actually speaking Spanish.

Fortunately, I had a map on me, so I managed to find my way to the hostel without bothering people I wouldn’t understand anyway. Once there, I plunged into that travellers’ world I know so well: people from all over the world stayed at my first hostel in Lissabon. Like those laziest ever Canadian guys:

Paul, the passionate mechanic: Whenever he talked about cars, his eyes sparkled. From his lips, sheet metal not only came alive, but was transformed into the most interesting substance in the world.

Traveling with him were Ali, Kyle, Stevoo, Loay and Jon. Their leisure activities consisted of playing cards and chess or walking around (me feeling like mummy with her kids). Each time we walked somewhere, ten minutes after leaving the hostel at least one of them would moan, he couldn’t go on any more – his feet were sore, his legs as well etc.

The result: I improved my card and chess playing skills a lot! (This is Stevo, Ali, Looay and Jon (from left to right) on one of our rare long walks up to Sintra castle – where we unfortunately arrived to late to get in)

After Lisbon, I decided to go to the Algarve – oh, THAT Algarve. Where the weather is supposed to be gorgeous, the beach mesmerizing, the people friendly. I can confirm that the people are indeed friendly.

And again, the Canadians and Ozzies seemed to be taking over the country: In my hostel alone, there were four Ozzies and three Canadians. The total number of guests: nine. Still, they were quite nice.

For instance, there was Aasa with her little sister Jay-Jay, two Canadians. Aasa had come to Europe to travel around for a couple of weeks and then go to England and work in a bed and breakfast. Basically, she wanted to change her life – but she just didn’t know in what way to pursue her new dream. Beforehand, she had given up her job as a local journalist back in Canada.

Next comes Brian from Oz. It was the first time for he travelled alone which made him uneasy at times – which is normal. Still, he was quite an interesting guy – one of the rare ones I met who wasn’t on facebook and the only one who didn’t bring a camera (for his whole four-month trip, intentionally!).

And – there was Suzanna, alias Sky (photo). The latter was her travel name – she suggested that a travel pseudonyme was the way to go. Sky was kind of from another planet – but her brief voyages into our atmosphere were always unexpectedly sunny. Like the other day, when she sat quietly next to Brian and suddenly blurted out: “Oh man, I fucking love dictatorships!”

In the end, I may not have improved my Portuguese all that much during this vacation, but I did have a lot of fun!

L.