Portugal: Day Twenty Three… No Propane, No GPS watch, but(!) Rodizio de Pizza @ Toronto Nights
Friday night I thought we were running a little low on propane (which I’ve been increasingly nervous about since Day Two. My shower went from hot to cold, but would continuously go back to hot. Saturday, after my maybe-3-mile run with Romeo, I was pretty sure we were out. We can’t get a new tank until Monday, so I wash my hair under the faucet, and rinse off as best I can with the sub-zero water.
When I was getting ready for my run something terrible, almost unmentionable happened: my GPS watch died. DIED. It had absolutely no display, which is what happens when the battery is dead, too, but I had just plugged it in the day before. The battery, I knew, was charged—my watch was really dead. In a runner’s world, marked by numbers: distance, current pace, average pace, time elapsed, calories… I was lost. I took Romeo and John’s watch out for 29:27 and I called it three miles. At home, when my watch wasn’t charged I would just turn on my Nike+ app. At home, in my completely-technology-dependent life. But, alas, I have no data service here. The lombas are hard to figure out on google maps, so it is hard to even plan a run and then execute it. I am depressed. #firstworldproblems
After my watch incident, and the lack-of-hot-water-realization, I was seriously looking forward to all-you-can-eat pizza coupled with all-you-can-drink beer at Toronto Nights. There was a game on (I can actually tell you that Madrid played Barcelona; it’s easier for me to remember the teams when they correspond to places I want to go), so John headed to Pic-Nic and I met him there after my 29:27 run. Bobby, Ken, and I made a bet for who could eat the most pizza. If you’ve seen me eat, you know I had more than a fair shot to win. And Lina was making me my own nao queijo pizza. I was ready for the challenge.
After the game, I took Romeo for a walk, John confirmed there was no propane by attempting to shower, and we walked over to Toronto Nights. Joe and Carla were already there and we were quickly joined by Ken&Bobby. The last time Lina held a Rodizio de Pizza she seated 70 people and she turned away another 30. This time there were only about 30 people. There was salad and garlic bread, and literally all the pizza you could eat. Ernes brought my pizza over to our table; pepperoni, bacon, pineapple, pepper, onions, and mushrooms. I couldn’t resist the salad and garlic bread (and beer) so I copped-out at five slices. Ken&Bobby each finished eight, and tied for first place.
We sat with Carla, Joe, Ken, Bobby, Xana, and Marco. We were the “English-speaking table”. Joe grew up in Providence, and Carla lived in Dartmouth, MA for a year, so there was a lot of American culture at our table. We got into a heated debate at one point about the definition of racism; which, at its core, seems to be a cultural one. What highly-sensitive American’s find racist, doesn’t seem to be racist in present-day Azorean culture. We were able to move past this increasingly-awkward and increasingly-heated debate and finish our pizza-and-beer (which felt very American). Once we were done stuffing our faces with pizza, Lina and Ernes (along with her brother Emanuel and his wife Louisa) doled out dessert: homemade cinnamon cookie ice cream, or homemade chocolate mousse. I opted for the mousse, but when Carla couldn’t finish her ice cream, I obliged her by finishing it.
We walked home full and happy.