Biweekly Update From Ira's Intercontinental March on on Motion #13 [Penultimate Ping]

HaYoudoin? In the second to last week of sixth grade I remember Mr. Lebson teaching us what penultimate meant, which is a word I thought was almost as cool as the fact that it was the penultimate week of school. The intercontinental march comes to a bitter sweet end on a soft Sunday when I'll be back in the boroughs, until then, let's analyze: <ol> <li>Getting pulled over by the Spanish highway patrol - I took a BlaBlaCar from Valencia to Madrid, which was somehow more convenient than taking the train despite the fact that my hostel was in the train station. We got pulled over by the cops who kept asking me "drogas o armas?" and the officers and I bumbled our way through that interrogation with the finest Spanglish on the Iberian Peninsula. Shoutout to capitalism for efficiently destroying BlaBlaCar which I have fond memories of using in 2015 to get from Brussels to Paris in some randos' car who helped me with my French and showed me around town when we arrived; now it appears to largely be a platform for cabbie's with no interest in mingling to do intercity runs.</li> <li>Surfing in Carcavelos - On Saturday I went to Carcavelos, which if you know what you're doing is like 30 minutes from Lisbon. Somehow I never anticipate issues traveling on Saturday so I always leave my phone and then get wrekt when I also leave the paper with the surf school address. I'll put two and two together one of these weeks and start bringing my phone just in case, or just keep creating sitcom plots out of my life, that's cool too. The surf school was conveniently not located on the beach which was magnificent, but it turns out that if you ask a million surfers where to go when you don't know the name of where you're going, there's hope. Paddling out was the first time in a long time that being slightly more jacked in the upper bod would have been helpful, but it was dope to feel the power of the ocean again.</li> <li>Hiking in Sintra - Sintra is a quaint town 40 minutes from Lisbon and falls within the six euro budget I have for getting out of town these days. It's grossly littered with castles and palaces from God only knows when, a small reminder of what a baby country the USA is. It was cool to walk in the woods, put my toes in the dirt, recommit to meditating when I'm bored instead of mindlessly scrolling, and do these new shoulder rolls in peace, which are the latest and greatest ingredient in my war on the whiplash - it's miraculous how much faster the body can heal when you use the right motion for the job.</li> </ol> I'm in Lisbon and out of cash, gas, motivation to pack, and clothes that look respectable, but I'm thrilled to be back in a part of the world where I can use Lionel's HBO Go login (dra-gons, dra-gons, dra-gons). As many as four coke dealers have come up to me on one city block if I'm out after dark but I've swallowed the red pill on Portuguese wine and will be done drinking the other rubbish going forward. Here are the pics to prove it all happened and I'm flying back Wednesday by way of Toronto. I'll be looking forward to the maple syrup north of the wall and the American breakfast to follow as I'm sure I'll miss the flan and pastel de nata, but c'est la vie for a vie in motion. Iraa