Albufeira: An Entomological Study
Trip Start
Apr 18, 2007
1
16
54
Trip End
Ongoing
Albufeira,
Portugal
Saturday, May 19, 2007
I first called Tyler an acquaintance and an owner of a Hostel in Granada to talk over some of the details of my employment with him, then called my parents for the first time since I have been in Southern Europe and finally Calle to hear the end of a cliff hanger story that happened to him that he has been promising and failing to write the end of. I ended up being on the phone for over an hour. I was sweating as the clerk printed up my bill because I had no idea how much the phone calls cost and both my parents and Calle told me it would cost a fortune. I was really hoping 25 Euro would cover it because that was the only cash I had on me and I am slightly frightened of the Portuguese Policia (or at least the Green ones, Rui said the blue ones are okay.) I held my breath and crossed my fingers as the lady held the bill up to the service window, my eyes scanned down the page over some large numbers to the bottom line total that read 6.34, WHAT DEAL!!! 10 cents a minute!
Pleased with another frugal Portuguese purchase, I made my way down to the Marrachinho grocery store across the street from the bar strip that leads to the beach and bought some turkey, mustard and what looked and tasted like oranges for lunch. Then meandered down to la praia (the beach) for a beachside lunch. There, I ate, lazed around in the sun until I was attacked by a legion of baby spiders that had hatched somewhere near by and appointed my body as a the landing strip. It was quite a bizarre sensation, baby spiders crawling all over my body. It seemed like it must be an omen of sorts so I called it a day and headed home.
***"AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT!"***
You know how they say that a cockroach can live independent of its head for weeks, I just discovered scientific proof of the inverse of this on the doorstep of my current habitation. That is, a head living with out a body. I wonder if the body wandered off somewhere and got lost. Anyway, I first glimpsed the poor little guy, frantically waving his legs, last night as I returned home from the restaurant with Joao Doao, but I pretended not to notice for fear that my hosts may discover how weird I truly am.
Upon my return home from the beach today, I was alone (plus or minus a few baby spiders) and finally free to follow my desire to do a thorough entomological investigation. With the aid of a cantaloupe spoon and an ash tray I took him out to the light of the balcony for further examination. I prodded him and discovered that, indeed, he did seem to be alive, though quite possibly wishing he was not. Then perused his anatomy and discovered that, indeed, he had no body; only a head, antennae, wings and two front legs.
My overly empathetic nature can't bear the thought of any creature suffering no matter how small or reviled by man. So ascertaining that his prospects for rehabilitation were highly unlikely, my mind switched to Kevorkian mode and I set about planning his humane demise. I wondered, if I had the choice between being drowned in the flush of a southern European toilet or to being crushed under 110 dollar Dansko leather sandals, which I would prefer. They both sounded grim, so I decided to remove myself from first hand culpability of the murder, be it a mercy killing, of one of Gods creatures and let the toilet do the dirty work. ´
I told him that I was sorry it was going to have to end this way, that I was going flush him down the toilet and that I wasn't sure exactly how long it takes a cockroach to drown, but by my estimation it wouldn't take more than a minute and to think about his family or a huge dumpster full of rotting twinkies or whatever a cockroach's happy place is and it will all be over soon. And after commending his soul to God, I dropped him in and let her rip. I watched the poor little guy swirled helplessly in a torrent of toilet water and submerge into the depths of the piping. When the water was still, I sighed and hoped he was in a better place. Then suddenly he resurfaced little arms flailing in fright underneath the water. I apologized profusely for my botched attempt as I fished him out with the cantaloupe spoon, explaining that I didn't have a lot of experience in these sorts of things with his kind of people, but I promised to do better next time.
With no other option I figured I was going to have to make a mess of my Danskos, until I spotted the cement-bottomed sun umbrella on the terrance. And with abbreviated ceremony in, the essence of mercy, I sent him met his maker under the terrace umbrella. Where he lies peacefully now, as I write this line.
Perhaps my in depth reporting on Abufeirian insect activity has tipped you off to the fact that my flood of adventures have slowed to a tranquil drip in the little Portuguese resort town. A pace and lifestyle that is enjoyable for now, but will not hold my interest for long, I'm afraid. So I think its time to pull out the old travelers' Bible (Lets go Spain and Portugal 2007) and make an itinerary.
In Pinocchio the novel, Jiminy Cricket was originally the ghost of a cockroach that Pinocchio had crushed. I wonder if the Blue Fairy will visit tonight. Though in the party town of Albufeira, its more likely to be the Green Fairy.
