The Thing About Portuguese Men

Now, the thing about Portuguese men is ... they're kinda the same as any other men. Little boys in adult bodies. The do all the same stuff as a five year old would:

• don't share their toys (tv remote)
• leave their toys lying (man junk)
• grumble when they're hungry (when's dinner?)
• that kind of thing (no - really)

But with a fine prime piece of Portuguese manliness you also get a few added extras. Such as:

• get thee behind me
• jealousy that's like a creeping fog ... barely tangible but obvious
• but women aren't equal to men querida, também?

A Portuguese man. This one chases balls

So you can imagine what fun it may be if you're married to one. Now, I'm not married to one but I do have one. Unfortunately for him, I'm not a Portuguese woman. Even worse, I'm a British woman.

I think I drive him mad.

My Portuguese man. He thinks he's Clint

Luckily for me, he's not like the rest of his Portuguese bro's. He's ... different. He doesn't quite share his toys (that's asking too much of any man) but he does share everything else. Plus I get to walk alongside him.

He, on the other hand, isn't quite so lucky. In both our opinions. Apparently I'm as stubborn as a ten-pack of mules. And I simply refuse to adapt (or is it adopt?) anything remotely resembling Portuguese womanliness (read: total acquiesence).

You see, the thing is, I was raised in a culture where all things are (supposed to be) equal. And even though in reality they're not, we girls fight for our rights. Our men largely acquiese to us. Otherwise they know they're hitting the office on Monday mornings looking like crisp bags and wearing odd socks.

In the grand scheme of things, both of us are very happy with the other. I believe in best working practice in all things and he is simply lovely.

But for sure, he's definitely more grey since he met me ...

Portuguese Politics

I have a dream. To get into Portuguese politics. Or at least get close enough to central government that I can rub shoulders with Socrates (Prime Minister) and have a word with him.

Socrates - my soon to be new best friend.

First - I want to see a sweeping change to the way the portuguese pronounce words. No more 'shushing' on the esses, no swallowing of random vowels. And absolutley no rolling of the rrrrrr's. I'm sick of needing to hawk and spit in the street everytime I try to say 'rua' or 'rapido'.

Further, something needs to be done about customer services. It is not ok to enter a bank/shop/chemist/anything, patiently wait your turn and then engage the teller/assistant/pharmacist in a conversation about your next door neighbours husband's brother's wife's strange affinity for late night strip poker parties. Whilst the husband's asleep.

Uma Galão - coffee with milk in a glass

And while I'm finding fault, what's with the attitude everytime I ask for a meia de leit? Yes, it contains milk and yes, the English drink it by the gallon. But pardon me for pointing out one little fact - it's exactly the same as the national morning drink of Portugal - uma galão. So get over yourself café owners.

Before I become best friends with Socrates.