February 3. At the Docks.

So I woke up in a hostelroom in the upper bed of a bunk bed, pretty girl below me, pretty girls in the other beds, pretty girls everywhere. Went to brush my teeth and have breakfast which two diligent women prepared for all the youngsters. What will they get paid, I thought. The scrambled eggs were good and there was plenty of coffee, Kaffee satt as the Germans say. The weather was nice too, so I went out with Shin who is now already back in Japan, to walk the city and eat some soup and some Pastéis. Lisbon Pastéis is the best, you should try it if you visit the city. It’s famous so you’ll read it in your guidebook anyway. Shin and I enjoyed the view over the river Tejo – we’re at the riverside here, not the seaside. For the seaside, go to Cascais it’s only
half an hour by train, there you face the Atlantic. It’s almost the westernmost point of continental Europe. Shin was a nice guy with Asian temper. He even agreed to accompany me
to the docks yes the docks I wanted to find out for myself if there are boats crossing the ocean to south America.

Want to cross that water you can’t call yourself a world traveler without crossing the water. But the ships said no. Two German marine ships of course had their security (I am a potential
risk and besides they were probably going to Palestine oder Ethiopia or God knows where they have their missions – not to South America). Another ship in the docks was being repaired and laying there till april. That’s enough for today, I told Shin, let’s eat. So we had dinner in a bar. In the evening I read a book I found at the hostel. I’ll recommend it to you: it’s Paul Auster’s Brooklyn Follies, a novel about pre-september-eleven (you have to mention it) life in New York with a dense plot, told skilled and wittingly. In France, Paul Auster is published by Actes Sud, which prints on a very nice format.

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