Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

We got wakeup calls at 9 this morning (=yesterday morning!) and had breakfast in the hotel.  I ate an orange, I think it was the first piece of fruit I’ve had since I left Chicago.  Both the promoters in Vigo (Julio) and in Porto (Augusto) had been sniffling and complaining of bad colds… I always end up getting sick on tour, at least when I do it in the States, so I’ve been eating my Flintstones every time I remember, and maybe the orange will also help to fend off any potential bugs.  I feel fine right now, just the same as I do when I’m at home… just a few sneezes every day caused by allergies to dust or whatever.  Last night during the show I had to cough at one point… it kind of messed with my train of thought because I spent one entire song trying to sing and NOT cough though I really wanted to.  But I don’t HAVE a cough or anything.  I’m not really monitoring my smoking right now, only because it’s not bothering me at the moment… I can’t smoke as much as I do at home, because I’m busy running around and doing stuff, and I can’t smoke in the van, etc. etc.  Whereas at home I can literally smoke all day and it won’t interfere with anything I’m doing, other than washing dishes maybe.

We drove out of Porto around ten I guess.  We’d left the amplifiers in a corner of the hotel bar area, by permission of the desk clerk.  Couldn’t leave anything in the van, and we were too tired to drag more than the guitars up to our rooms.

On the way out of Porto we stopped for one last look at the beautiful river, and one more smokey-treat before the long haul to Sevilla.  I took a few more pictures.  I must have a hundred by now.  No… probably more like 70 I guess.

We were driving south most of the way and I guess we passed through the whole rest of Portugal.  It was really beautiful scenery.  The further south we got, the more green and woodsy the country became, as opposed to the grape fields and more Kentucky-like look of the Porto area.  The landscape in southern Portugal kind of reminds me of the Pacific Northwest, but the trees aren’t nearly as tall.  I hate to say this, but everywhere I go reminds me of someplace down in Texas… this looked a lot like the Texas hill country, but greener.  We passed through a lot of towns where the houses were all built of the same material… like a whitewashed building (of adobe maybe?) with lovely red tile roofs.  Whole towns with a sea of these red roofs.  I guess they make those tiles right there using red clay from the ground.  Sure don’t see much sense in importing a whole city’s worth of red tiles just for beauty’s sake.

For lunch we stopped at a roadside restaurant and had very good luck, just like we did the other day.  Lomo and rice and fries, mmmmm.  All it takes is for Andy to go in and scope the place out, so we can avoid all the trouble like we had before the Caceres show.

We finally got to Andy’s weekend house around nine or ten.  We had stopped in the closest town to buy dinner fixin’s.  I insinuated myself into Andy’s kitchen and whipped us all up a good little dinner.  We’d bought six eggs, and cheese, and chorizo, and a great loaf of bread shaped like two hubcaps stuck together.  So I toasted long slices of the bread, and whipped all the eggs up into a big scramble-feast using spices I found in their cabinets.  And you know what?  Those boys put that shit in their mouth and they fuckin’ ate it.  :-) I can’t remember the last time I cooked anything, John’s so damn good at it.  Or maybe I’m lazy at home, I admit it.  :-)

We watched a really good video while we ate, and smoked and drank beer.  The video was the story of Annabel Chong, a porn actress.  It was a documentary that Andy had taped off British TV.  I thought maybe I might be grossed out by it, and I was in a way, but not in the way I expected.  At first she seemed like a very triumphantly sexual woman, but the longer the movie went on, the more human she became.  I cried when she had to tell her parents what she did for a living.  I would never want to do porn for a living, but I identified with the girl very much in many other ways.  She’s vivacious and very cute, but at the same time she’s shy and very internalized, same as me.  When the movie was over I found myself caring very much about this girl and wanting to know she would be okay.  It seemed like she would be, in a way… but also obvious that there were some things that would never ever be okay and alright in her life.  Some things happen, and you just have to move along and turn the page and accept that you’ve been hurt in various ways and that you can’t trust everyone in this world.  People will lie to you, they’ll hurt you and take advantage of you and that’s fucking life.  If you can continue moving on with your life as best you can, then you’re a survivor, and that’s what it’s all about.  I think the worst part of the film was one point when she was extremely depressed and cutting on her skin with a knife just to make herself feel some pain (or feel anything).  I don’t hurt myself that way but I can really identify with the numbness and understand what would make you feel like you’d want to hurt yourself.  I guess with me it’s more a sloooow process, i.e. with the heavy smoking.  Smoking is a bit suicidal isn’t it?  Just because everybody does it, doesn’t mean it isn’t an act of self-mutilation.  Anyway, if I could talk to Annabel right now I’d tell her she’s a beautiful person, she should be loved (she IS loved) and that she deserves to have and do anything she wants in this world.  Knowing the reality of her situation it doesn’t seem very realistic to expect that she wouldn’t do porn films anymore… that IS what made her a worldwide star, so that’s what’s going to bring her an income.  I just hope she’s reasonably happy and that she can surround herself with as many people as possible who really truly care about her.