Cheguei. I have arrived.

I am writing my inaugural post from my lovely little bedroom in Lisbon. I have been in this country less than 24 hours and already I love it. There is something in the air here, an aroma that defies comprehension or even judgment. The smell of the ocean, the waft of perfume, the gritty aftertaste of cigarettes, and the scent of well-worn pavement.

This is an old city, with roots dating back 3000 years to the days of the Phoenicians. It’s definitely a nice change from the antiseptic newness of most American cities. My building is over 250 years old. Even the bathtub I wash my naughty bits in is 90 years my senior. The apartment is on the fourth floor of the building. It is the only building of its kind left on the entire block; Portuguese business ventures caught the capitalism bug, started buying up old the real estate, partitioning it up, and reselling it to boutique hotels, stores, and restaurants. It’s a tragedy, really.

The apartment itself is a colorful place. Everywhere I can see reminders and flavors of all the people who have called this place home for the last two and a half centuries. There is no blank space on any wall in the whole place – there is either artwork or shelves with kitsch collected over the years. It reminds me of my grandmother’s house in Beirut – so beyond the scope of my experience that it seems Oriental. It even smells like my grandmother’s place – the scent of cigarillos, fine perfume, and pungent herbs fills every nook.

Stills from the movies my landlady has been in adorn the walls.

And the people are just as colorful and wonderful as the spaces they occupy. The landlady defies all of the clichés of the crotchety old maid pestering the tenants about rent. She has been living in Portugal since the democratic revolution in the 1970’s, in which she played a part as a performing activist. One of my roommates is an Austrian art student named Dominik who is doing an exchange program at the local university. He surfs, paints, writes, does lighting design, and speaks German-flavored English. The other fellow is an American filmographer teaching English in his spare time to make some money. He seems as erudite as any American living abroad, because only the learned ones are smart enough to leave. We are expecting another roommate, a Dutch girl who will also be an art student at the local university. Though I haven’t met her, Sheila (the landlady) assures me that she is lovely, both literally and figuratively.

Well, that’s all for now. I hope to update this post with pictures, but I’m so self-conscious of look like a tourist that I haven’t quite worked up the courage yet!