The Wonderful Wizard of Òzcar – Nov 1, 2008

That’s it. I’m like on my way to Oz. Is it because they took me flying to an unknown country? No, it isn’t. Is it because I have new shoes? No, it isn’t. Is it because the streets have annoying stones unsuitable to walk on high heels? No, it isn’t. Is it because at the end there’s no wonderful wizard and the reward is what you learn? No, it isn’t. Is it because I found some heartless people in the way? No, it isn’t. Coward people? No, it isn’t. Brainless people? No… and yes.

The thing is that, like Dorothy, I want to go home. Is it because I’m homesick? No, it isn’t. It’s because I haven’t touched any video game in five weeks and I spend hours in the Fnac checking the games they release and I want to buy. But, even if I bought them, I would have to be happy with reading the instructions booklet. I tried hard, but I never appeared in front of my Playstation, no matter how many times I tap my heels together.

Even so, there still are some good things, it’s still freezing cold at home.

Well, the night story of the week is an Erasmus party last Thursday. Have you noticed that all my stories happen at night? People work and study during the day and I’ve got used to sleep from 3 in the morning to midday.

That was some kind of way to Oz as well. I had already had lunch and was resting in my room when I received an SMS to go to the party. In thirty minutes I was far from home with a Portuguese friend, two Italian boys and a boy from Madrid. After some time of walking the streets randomly ― because the Italian who knew the way didn’t actually know it ― we arrived to a house full of students. People from Italy, Spain, Germany and other places I didn’t get to know. The most Portuguese ones there were my friend and I.

It was like the tower of Babel, but without Portuguese. At least nothing you could really call Portuguese. Native people complain about it and hate the outsiders with good reason, nobody respects their language. Foreigners come here speaking Spanish or English and sure Portuguese people will understand.

The night ended with my friend and the other three boys going to bed and me leaving with a small group which were adopted by some Portuguese guys when we couldn’t find an open discotheque. We had something to eat in a secret baker’s which opens very early and have some good stuff. Everything with a gentle rain that made me wake up with a cold. One of those colds like money; easy comes, easy goes. Like me.


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