Once, the was a small Koalabear-Boy who needed to flee his homeland Australia because of fire – there was no eucalyptus left for him to eat. Some years ago, he had ended up drinking with an elderly sailor from Europe and this wise man had told him that there were so many eucalyptus-trees in a small country named Portugal, at the Atlantic, so the small Koala went on a voyage, well hid on a boat, and took all the way to Europe. It took time; he went over Japan and somewhere in Africa, but then finally, he set foot on Portuguese soil – I think, it was in Porto.
His steps were unshaky – in need of food and water, the small Koala had eaten a lot of Portguese sweets (ah, these Pasteis de Nata!!) and drank a lot of Port-Wine. Needlesss to say that he was sick of Portguese Fado – six weeks on the sea and only some heartbraking beat to dance on. In O-Porto, the young Australian searched for any eucalyptus-tree but he came only across some black cats and women in woollen-black-dresses, plus some young Luis-Figo-footballers annoyed him to death (why couldn’t they understand that he was still too much struggling with the time difference to be interested in playing football?!)
So he took all his courage and got on a bus and a tram – and ended up somewhere on the beach, with only some surfers to find hidden in the foggy distance. He returned to the city and the next day, he made another try – to end up in Braga, Coimbra, and in other cities he couldn’t pronounce.
He was so sick of hunger. Everyone he spoke to told him of churches, cathedrals, Kings and Queens, offered him Pasteis, wished him Bom Dia all day long.
Finally, he had enough and went to a small market where he actually found eucalyptus-bonbons but nobody could tell him where they came from. So he wandered and wandered around, got friends with some surfers, and – before he finally got addicted to Portoguese sweets and wine, these friends took him to a day-trip to a National Park in the North of the country. Here small Koala realized that in Portugal, there had been fires as well and a lot of wood had died the previous weeks. Sad, he sat down and just wanted to be left alone. Suddenly, he heard a noise and looked up – to realize that he sat under an eucalyptus-tree – that had been occupied by ten storks – from France (they had fleed their homecountry because they were sick of tourists, taking pictures of them). The Koala-boy and the animals talked and talked when the surfers showed up and asked if small Koala wanted to return to the city with them. He didn’t – but it didn’t take long and he was annoyed by all the woods and the fog around him.
Young Koala took his small suitcase and walked to Lisboa (the sailor back in Aussie-land had spoken so much of the city) and Young Koala liked it there – even if he wasn’t sure if Porto wasn’t a way much more relaxed (tourists!!).
That was years ago – today, the Koala is older (calls himself a man, not a boy) and works as a graffiti-artist both in Porto and Lisboa; when he isn’t surfing in the cold Atlantic.
He has always an eucalyptus-bonbons-package in his small cork-bag on his back. And sometimes (sshh, not too loud – he doesn’t want to destroy his image of being a very, very cool Expats-Aussie-surfer), the Koala reads poetry of Fernando Pessoa or likes listening to Fado music in a small Alfama-café that is unknown to tourists.
#two weeks in Portugual and one ends up writing about Koala-boys/-men
#Portuguese eucalyptus-bonbons kill every flu