A traveling Heidi and crazy taxi drivers

Work has taken me several times to Germany and once to UK in the past weeks. There is one thing in common with all working trips (not only Bircher muesli and my incredible capability of finding it everywhere).

I have met some cray-ass-bem-louco taxi drivers. They seem to be more interested in your life than the regular hairdresser lady who seems to know everything about everyone on TV. Traveling by taxi is like a third degree interrogation or other weirdness.

I left on a Sunday afternoon to Germany to be in a meeting Monday morning. The Portuguese taxi driver is super talkative. “I hope you do not mind but, on the way to the airport I need to drop off things to my niece. Did I tell you my nieces are the cutest? So good looking?” Me thinking: Merlin´s beard, this one is crazy. So we went to drop off things somewhere to his super good looking niece, who btw, if you didn´t get it yet has got a twin. This additional new route took 20 min, and during that time I heard at least 10 times about his good looking niece(s) (the twins). I was also harassed to tell my nationality, rent price, house condition, workplace, studies etc… Not much lying to be done since he picked me up in front of my house.

In Germany I had an a**hole of a taxi driver. Because I was young and traveling by taxi to a nice hotel means that I MUST HAVE a lot of money. So the interrogation was about my monetary situation. Which is not good btw, student + loans + working in Portugal. The driver wanted me to pay him 20e of tip!?!?! After the whole rude questioning before. No way. Fight fight fight. FYI I am not paying 20e tip to a butt hole who assumes I am rich for travelling alone on a Sunday by cab for work. The taxi driver seemed to be mad at me for some reason. I did not know I had a thick wallet and was related to the King of Sweden… good to know when the bills arrive.

In the UK I was met by a cab driver who started asking questions one nanosecond after I got in the cab. I was picked up at an office building in the middle of industrial city suburbs – aka nowhere. “So? Were you on an interview?” Me: ? “Did it go well? It looks like it because your interviewer is waving to you outside?” Me: ????? I didn´t even have time to answer. After the questioning-vomit-attack ended, I replied horrified. “I am here for work.” The driver: “OOOOOOH. So you are not from the UK, where are you coming from?” Me: “Portugal” …and that’s how the fun started. I do not look Portuguese, I do not sound like one… How come I come from there, where do I work, live, eat, sleep, first time in the UK?, future plans?, weddings?? When I rushed out from this horrible questioning session the driver sticks his head out of the cab window to scream from the bottom of his lungs. 18 POUND TO THE AIRPORT TODAY, CALL MEEEEEEEEE. Over my dead body.

Arriving back to Lisbon, I got to know some Chinese people who are married and own a kebab place. Yes. I was involved again in a weird situation when the taxi driver decided to meet up with old friends when I was on board.

Next time I will take an Uber. Does not matter how illegal it is. They simply ask if the music is ok and if I want to have WIFI and stay the hell quiet. My Finnish personality cannot take more. Silence and space please.

Pick your apartment wisely

This is important folks!

When you move to Portugal it is good to have some standard knowledge of the apartment you are going to live in. ...it applies also for Spain... and probably any country :D 

Jumping into a time machine, taking us almost two years back, when we moved to Lisbon with Swag N or Nik. 

It was the end of Summer (in Finland), late August, when Nik left ahead to find an apartment for our one year stay in Lisbon. He went to solve the apartment situation while I was packing our old apartment in Finland. Dude, it should have been the other way around. A 160 cm tall girl dragging all furniture and packing things together is not a good combo. I learned my lesson. 

The apartment situation was not too good since many students (about 10 000) move into Lisbon each year. The apartment range was small, extremely small and expensive. All apartments seemed to have a problem which we could not overcome. In the end we found a relatively good flat in Bairro Alto. It was in the budget range we set for ourselves, 800e. (It is expensive in Portugal). We even made the contract with a housing agency to have a legal back up, which later on did not work at all. Since the agency did not care. 

We moved in. 

One month later the rains started. I was casually at home doing my homework when suddenly it was raining inside the apartment. Crap. I put buckets (and basically anything I found from the kitchen) beneath the worst dripping places. I called the landlord and told him about the raining inside. 

Two days later the landlord shows up to see a completely soaked roof. Determining on his face it was very bad. But then he casually said "It will dry in the Summer, lets find the hole and cover it." OK?? Two weeks later the roof was re-painted (in a nice yellow tone that showed the moist coming through). The painter man also broke our vacuum cleaner (small thing), which we never said nothing about because there were worse issues. Like the roof. 

Next Spring it leaked again. But then we had had enough, since we also had mold in the apartment caused by water between the walls.. it was also touching the electricity wires.. but that was overseen by the landlord... Nik (Swag N) also had aggressive attacks of allergy, eyes watery and swollen 24/7, cough, asthma... 

In November I spoke sufficiently Portuguese to understand what our bills said. I figured that the landlord was asking us to pay water every month, although water is paid every two months. So when I pointed this thing out, he turned all bills to his home and started sending images of the bills instead. Which is illegal, but who cares. 

In January we had a whole year estimate payment of 250 euro of electricity we had not consumed but had to pay anyways. We were also getting tight on money at this point. 

In April we found a new apartment and decided to move since our contract with the old apartment was about to end. We cleaned up entirely the moldy smelly household, left it very pretty. 

In June when we were in Finland the landlord, who did not want to come visit the apartment for a last inspection (for a 10000 different reasons) said that we have left the apartment in an extremely bad shape and the vacuum cleaner was broken. Therefore, he did not want to pay us the deposit. Excellent. 

Then I returned to Lisbon in July to have an argument with this landlord (and give back the keys which I refused to give until he paid us back). I told about Nik's asthma, showed the mold, explained the vacuum cleaner and said that we cleaned the whole apartment. Then the landlord started accusing us of not paying bills?? What?? So I had to collect each and every single payment we made to show him that nothing was missing. Which was not. 

Conclusion. After a massive fight we had 550e back of our 800 euro deposit, because the vacuum cleaner (still working) was broken. 

I took the money and ran.

A picture from the street we lived in. The houses are built over 200 years ago. 

I met Scandinavians

I was super duper excited to meet people from the North a while a go, when I participated in a business meeting abroad. Excitement overload - reunite with the blondes.

Long story short. I was astonished of the way people behaved. The Nordic people claim that the Southern people are slow and nothing works. Man, this was proven wrong. Back to it soon..

Just because it makes my mouth water.
SOON

The Nordics covered Norway, Denmark, Finland and Sweden. Basically Scandinavia, though Finland is technically not part of it, but anyways. It was a jolly presentation where the Scandinavian were shown pictures of their countries and they had to explain what was in the images... Danish sausage wagon, Swedish midsummer party, Finnish Karelian pastry and Norwegian 17 May. It was funny.

Then the Finns claimed to be very silent people (as we all know) and all other Nordic countries nodded approvingly.  In the end the Finns spoke a-l-o-t. The other Scandinavians nodded or grumped in answer.


Throughout the event the Scandinavians were complaining about EVERYTHING. The attitude was cannot, never-ever, in my life would I?, uuuuf, puuuuf, how?, the laws.. This was something that went on for half a day.. The respective part of the day was supposed to be 1 hour to move on to real life issues.

I do not wonder why people use wrinkle cream like crazy in the cold North after frowning so much with the eyebrows. So many problems...
Everyone else seemed to see a challenge, something you solve and continue on with life. Something so small it does not even matter. But no...

In group works, the Scandinavians had nothing to say. Nope. Or maybe something... one thing, after encouragement.

To summarize it up, the Nordics were pulled to each other like magnets. They were speaking only among each other. They did not see challenges, only problems existed... and a possible soon death of all the stress they were showing.

I am not political at all. But honestly, all Northern people in the meeting were old, wearing dark and dull clothes and not happy at all. Where are all the new, young innovative people? I am in Portugal because Finland did not give me a chance regarding a resumé & academic corresponding employment. Would you believe? I have a higher living standard and job in Portugal. Holy moly.

The Swiss Little Heidi..
..whom I always hear about  

Why I wrote this text was to prove that something is happening. With me. Either I am integrating to Portugal, or I am actually seeing the world in other eyes.


Grande finale; I let everyone stare at me when I presented myself from Portugal. HEHE. I revealed my cover later causing an utter confusion. :DD


My name is German, I do not speak German. I am from Finland, but my mother tongue is Swedish. I live in Portugal, I am younger than you would ever hire a person in the North for a corresponding job and I am fluent in Portuguese. VOITTO. I have succeeded with my international mission.





Good Night or Good Morning!
(Whenever you are reading my post).

Até já

My not so Portuguese neighbourhood

I live in the very heart of Lisbon, however my neighborhood is the least Portuguese place in town. Welcome to small India! Don't take me wrong, I really enjoy living here.

Not so many years ago, this centrally located neighborhood was one of the worst neighborhoods to live in. Even today, when I tell people where I live they look at me like Dory in Finding Nemo.

Moving to Martim Moniz almost a year ago made me like Lisbon. We used to live in Bairro Alto. Bairro Alto is THE place to party on the weekends with loads of tourist restaurants and small shops. Once I was told that there are 168 restaurants in Bairro Alto. Dude! The place is not that big.However, when we were living in Bairro Alto we realized that absolutely no Portuguese live in this neighborhood. Why? Because the houses are built 200 years ago, they are in bad condition, cold, not isolated, full of mold and the story goes on... Tourists and students usually occupy these houses.
Imagine going to bed on a Friday night before 2am? Sadly, you will not be able to sleep a wink.

Another sad reality of Bairro Alto was that me as a blonde was harrassed constantly. I was twice persecuted and touched inappropriately during daytime, plus the additional yelling things like I am an object. It really was nasty.  One day when I stepped out on the street in the morning I was offered "Hashish", "Cocaine" and other things I did not know of. I have never been the "try everything" kind of person, and therefore my bewildered expression and question, What is that? Resulted in confusion maximum... for both parties of the conversation.

Back to ...

... Martim Moniz, peace and quiet, Chinese restaurants (illegal and legal), Chinese pottery shops, Chinese food markets, Indian kiosks, Indian markets, Indian kebab, Indian restauarants. I am a foreigner too ...although my ethnicity is more of the Northern kind. I walk down the street in peace, with my head held up.



Ramiro

We also have the best rooftop bar, Topo, which plays funky music and have good drinks. Topo, overlooks a plaza where events of all sorts occur. A couple of weeks ago there was an Indian all women's event. It was beautiful to follow. During the summer, the plaza was full of small bars where people could have their drink in a chilled out atmosphere. Every Thursday we have a Kizomba party. The place is packed.

Best seafood place in Lisbon is Ramiro. If you like seafood, this is a MUST.


 

And I would also like to give attention to the homeless (yes they exist here too) who live outside of our house. Who kindly greet in the morning, may they be high on something or plainly drunk...

Bem-vindo!



Martim Moniz

Different personalities in different cultures

It is actually true. I was not sure whether to define it as, language-personality or culture-personality change. Language is part of culture and therefore I thought it was proper to define it as culture personality.

I noticed this personality change when I was living in Spain. First I thought it was the Alicante people and sun which had the impression on me, but moving to Lisbon and integrating myself to the culture proved my speculations right. I have several personalities (I am not schizophrenic), my personality changes with the culture.

The best part of all. I am Finnish-Swedish but do not feel comfortable with my Finnish-Swedish personality. I have always avoided being Finnish-Swedish. I always tell everybody what I am (now I sound like an animal..), but having to be among others alike and being in my respective personality feels awkward, like clothes that do not fit. However, being Finnish has always been the thing. I feel super comfortable in my personality. My way of being, speaking and acting suits my inner personality like a glove. I have other friends and also my sister, who are very much alike in this matter. Proud of their mother tongue and heritage, but not fitting into their Finnish-Swedish clothes.

American me 19 years old xD

My English personality was established way back when I was a teen. I had an Amercian boyfriend who thought me to speak English - in his way and manners. I learned how to be American, I imitated the way of talking, behavior and the girls in general. All did not suit me, but I created a personality. And there I was, my third personality established and I really liked it. Of course growing older and more mature made my personality less black and white, and Lil Wayne is not the God anymore.

Enjoying a morning hike at the beach in Spain

Moving to Spain thought the Spanish me to love life and myself. Having a wine here and there did not make a difference to my overly healthy lifestyle. Speaking in an easy sloppy manner, joder and all those other colorful expressions in Spanish I do not want to reveal here. The nicest thing is to escape to Spain to fulfill the role and personalty I have there. The more laid back me. It is like having a vacation from your other self as well, not only the 'normal life'.

Finally, who am I in Portuguese? In the beginning it seemed like I was going to be the Grumpy Cat of all times. I had a sarcastic comeback to everything and
nothing seemed to suit. It might have been also the pain of growing into a new personality. The last months have showed me that I might have almost grown into my new personality. Having moments to laugh from the bottom of your stomach, a real joy and having the possibility to understand and joke around with people in Portuguese. I think I am on the brink of establishing the Portuguese me and it seems to suit me just fine.

Desejo-lhe um bom fim de semana! :)

-Heidi

Visit to the emergency - Portuguese style

We were supposed to have a nice sunny Saturday, slow brekkie, thesis (uff), lunch and then off to the park to read our books (in Portuguese!!). However, Nik slit his finger with a knife. Fiskars knives are efficient - we know now.

So off we went to the nearest hospital. Literally 200 meters from our house. It is not actually a hospital, referring to a building, but a massive complex. We figured that when we entered. It must have looked kind of funny, us running back and forth. Nik with his finger in the air. (It was plastered alright but bleeding heavily). After 10 minutes of searching we found the emergency.

The receptionist asked where were from. Then they started listing up countries they have agreements with; Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Estonia, Russia... apparently everything around Finland but not us. 168euro -said the lady. WHAAAAT!? We would have had this fixed for 70e in the private hospital. Not cool. Then we figured to show the European emergency card. That was cool, since the price of treatment suddenly dropped to 18e and an agreement with Finland was established.

We were rapidly redirected to the small surgeries area. There we had to wait almost two hours for treatment. Finger tingling and still bleeding. But this is Portugal. Wonder if it would have been faster if the finger would have been completely off?...

It was an interesting place, the Portuguese emergency. Casually sitting beside me was a lady who was keeping it calm and bleeding directly to the floor. Every 15 min a cleaning lady came and cleaned the mess up.. On my other side was a very friendly drug addict who seemed to have lost half of his nose and front teeth. He did not remember when this happened, but it might had been this week, he said. A nurse also casually asked him if he had taken drugs. Obviously he had. 67 mg of heroin, he declared. And still standing, asked the nurse. Well, you know me, he said. Another nurse pointed out to us that if I were to speak Finnish to him now he would understand it better than what the drug addict was trying to say. Lovely. We got in and out from the hospital in 4 hours. Fast in my opinion after hearing the horror stories of friends being wrongly treated and in the emergency room with an actual emergency for 6-12 hours.

We survived with three stitches and an adventure.
It's time to celebrate with sushi.

Bom fim de semana

-H

Portuguese manners for a beginner

Surprisingly, the Portuguese are like the Finns. Closed people who do not want to make too much noise. Note: Does not apply when drunk. On neither one.

Working in Portugal has been the closest thing to culture exposure. I also studied (still do) at the University of Lisbon. However, the kids and the culture are very international. No weird manners noted. However, at work I came across some funny manners (for a Finn).

The most recent learning experience is that you say Happy New Year to everybody, clients, colleagues, the cleaning ladies, the guard... Anybody you see during January who you have not seen yet. It goes like this: *muaks* *muaks* (cheek kisses), BOM ANO!!! Lovely, in Spanish it means *muaks* *muaks* GREAT ASS!!! Because I seem to have a dirty mind, I cannot see this one escaping my attention. It is correct, but I am kind of bilingual Portunhol (Spanish-Portuguese).

Regarding the cheek kisses, they are given to everybody you meet, may it be the first time or the hundredth. If you act Finnish (or basically any other not Southern country), you give the hand. This is kind of bad mannered because why wouldn't you want to kiss this person? Does he smell? You will be greeted with a sloppy-surprised hand. Cheek kisses. Always. Btw, don't kiss the actual cheek, kiss the air and make the *muaks* noise. If you kiss the cheek it is weird again. (This was for over eager kissers.) Funny story, when I was in Finland over the holidays I gave cheek kisses to everybody. OMG. Private Territory. Hand. Always. My bad.

However the most interesting thing is sharing. That is certainly not something we Finns like to do. Especially with alcohol. Anyways, you are obligated to ask if anyone wishes to have some of your food when you have food. (Does not necessarily apply during lunch hour, but should be offered anyways). Está servido? Are you served? Even if you had ONE nut in your hand, you shall ask!! Super badly mannered me who ate an almond and did not offer a taste to the five other people the same room. Once I ate yoghurt and then remembered, ohh I need to ask: Está servido? To my surprise the person tasted from my spoon. :D:D Never underestimate the situation.

I put a picture of food to reinforce the text. Its a Spanish omelette with a twist. 

Otherwise, the Portuguese are so alike us Finns. It would be weird to have a culture collision here. People are pretty straight forward and sincere. Could this be a small country thing?

Até próxima,
Heidi