As soon as I got to town the Leafs lost twice. My Leaf cap, a gift a few years ago from my daughter Lucy, was the last thing I jammed into my bag just now up in 607 of the BestWesternPlus near Toronto airport. It will arrive in Lisbon for the second time tomorrow morning, Lisbon time. A few days ago in Puerto Moreles, wearing the cap against the morning sun, I heard "Hey, Toronto" from one of the guys at the wharf trying to sell me a snorkel trip. A couple of times on Isla Mujeres I sensed people looking the other way, seeing my cap as a reminder of less congenial climate back home. In fact, I doubt I'd wear the cap around Toronto, which has enough Leaf fans already. (Here I nod to previous entries about not being a Rider fan unless I'm not in Regina, which is jammed with green and white.) Last night in the pub, for once I wasn't the only one rising or falling with the action of the Leafs-Jets game.
Anyway, in a few hours I'm off to Lisbon. I'll text the owners of the apartment I'm renting when I'm in the taxi leaving Lisbon airport. By noon I'll be stocking up on supplies in the mercado. I have 99 nights in Europe, which suggests an obvious writing plan . . .
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2 comments:
Have a custard tart in Lisbon for me, my friend.
Tasty you should mention that. This aft I was walking around with two Dutch women, one a baker, who debated the relative merits of tarts in Belem (or was it Sintra?) and Lisbon. Not being tarty, I just walked.
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