Making Friends in Unfamiliar Places: The Story of Péter
A Full 24 Hrs in Lisbon
It was 8 AM on the 10th of November. Shawn and I landed in Lisboa, Portugal a mere 8 hours earlier. We had nothing on the agenda except to make our way to our hostel close to the city centre. Our suitcases in hand, we rolled our way down the cobblestone streets to the nearest metro station.
Prior to arriving, I had hopes for a life changing experience. I didn’t foresee any prodigious, life altering events actually happening. I figured that at most the two of us would eat delicious food, see beautiful things, be humbled by the throes that often come with travel, and come back home with stories to tell. I was wrong.
All of that happened and then some.
After we checked into our hostel, we looked at the list of sights we compiled months before. Our Viva Viagem metro cards in one hand and Google Maps in the other, we thrusted open the hostel doors that led right to the heart of Lisboa. According to Google Maps, if we wanted to get to Bélem Tower we needed to catch the 28E tram. It was a 5 minute walk away, so we walked up steep hills reminiscent of San Francisco (minus the copious amounts of human excrement).
We saw a group of people also waiting at the stop. I spotted the tram approaching with no indication that it would slow down. As it neared it looked like a can of sardines, packed full of people. It passed us. Confused, the crowd of fellow travelers dissipated. Shortly thereafter, it was just Shawn and I standing there. I was happy to wait for the next one, but Shawn thought it would be fun to walk to the next stop. So we did.
The first tram stop we visited.
Something Beautiful
As we waited at the second stop, a man wearing a brown brimmed hat crossed the street in a manner I’d imagine Jack Sparrow to. He had a sling around his arm, socks with slides, and a happy-go-lucky energy. He too would be waiting for tram 28E.
He turned to me and asked if the tram would arrive shortly. I looked at my phone and saw that it had an ETA of 7 minutes. I told him that it should be here soon. With a friendly smile on his face and a sarcastic tone, he responded, “should”.
Shawn and I continued waiting when the man asked us where we were from and if we had any plans. I told him we were from the United States and the only plan we had was to roam around. He perked up and asked us if we would like to follow him and see something beautiful.
I could tell Shawn was a bit hesitant. Understandably so (stranger danger and all of that). Normally I would be on board with that too, but I was intrigued. In the millisecond I had to think, I considered two things:
A.) Portugal is #6 on the Global Peace Index (the United States is #129). Although never impossible, the likelihood of getting murdered in broad daylight is unlikely.
B.) It’s midday. Getting viciously mugged around crowds of passersby is also unlikely.
I decided to take a gamble and throw caution to the wind. I glanced at Shawn with a knowing look. He shrugged and I looked back at the man with tousled hair underneath his fedora and replied,
“Sure, why not? ”
Who, What, When, Where?
The tram came to a quick stop. As the three of us headed towards the tram steps, the man looked back at us and told us to get off when he does.
“I’m going to see my friend Maximilian. He plays live music and a different musician is there every few hours. If you want, follow me to the next stop”.
Now being one of the sardines crammed in a tin can, I found myself pressed in between a pole and the nameless man. We stared out the window towards the bustling people on the sidewalk. Off in the distance we witnessed a lady drop an item from her purse onto the busy walkway. The seated people within our tram shouted at her until she turned around. As the tram slowly started moving away, everyone alerted her. Grateful, she picked up the contents of her purse and ambled on.
“Portugal is one of the safest countries I’ve ever lived in. Did you see? Everyone here didn’t want her to lose her things”.
It’s as if the man knew of our slight skepticism. It did ease my mind a little.
Weaving around the narrow streets of Lisboa, we made it to the next stop. Shawn and I stepped off the tram and aimlessly followed our (potential) friend. Part of me felt like a duckling. Were we following the mama duck to safety or into a sewer grate? There was only one way to find out and we were halfway to our answer.
Miradouro de Santa Luzia
Every corner we turned, there was another incline passing beautiful tile covered buildings. Some in pristine condition, others with cracks and graffiti. Somehow the contrasting buildings complimented one another and made Lisboa feel authentically itself.
As we neared the man’s favorite location in Lisboa, he pointed to a stand where a couple of men sold Piña Coladas out of hollowed pineapples. He told us they were his friends. They saw him and enthusiastically waved.
Ahead of us were Senegalese gentlemen with bracelets and necklaces dangling from their arms. The man leaned in and said they were his friends, but warned they’d likely attempt to slip them onto our arms for money. The nameless man waved at them and the men smiled back, said hello, and asked how he was.
In a nonchalant manner, he told them, “I broke my arm. It needs surgery”. One of the gentlemen looked at us inquisitively, gave us a nod, and went on his way.
The last people he saw were two jovial ladies at separate booths selling elegant handmade jewelry. They spoke in Portuguese and also seemed to be familiar with one another. Part of me envied how this man made being social look so effortless, at the same time I found myself inspired.
We passed a church called Igreja de Santa Luzia. On one side there was a tile mosaic of the Knights Templar. The man happily told us the history of them and how much this area meant to him. In the distance I heard live music.
When I turned, I did indeed see the most beautiful spot in Lisboa (this remained true for the entirety of our trip), as well as his friend Maximillian playing the saxophone with tourists gathering around taking video of his talent.
The man led us to a spot on the terrace where he frequents. It looked out at the Tagus River, which could easily be mistaken for the Atlantic Ocean. He hopped onto the terrace walls, took items out of his satchel, and placed them in specific locations on the ledge of the wall. As he placed the items, he began telling us about this spot and why it’s special to him.
A Man With a Name
The man spoke about his life as a drifter. He was a Transylvanian wanderer whose original intention was to have a short lived stay in Portugal. However, he found love and and still remains in Lisboa four years later.
After receiving the CliffsNotes version of his life, I had to know his name.
“Péter”, he responded in a thick Romanian accent.
“Keisha”, I replied in my painfully American one.
Extending his hand out for a handshake, Shawn formally introduced himself as well. With a wince, Péter took it and fragilely shook it. He explained that months earlier he fell off of a scooter and broke his arm. He never got surgery for it, and as a result it healed incorrectly. At some point, throughout all of this he tried setting it back…which made it worse. Regardless of being in tremendous amounts of pain, he smiles anyway. Now, instead of handshakes, he gives people half hearts with his hands in hopes they’ll return the other half.
He inquired about the two of us. Shawn replied, “I’m a recently retired soldier. I was in for 9 years and now I’m trying to figure out my new life”.
”Welcome to freedom”, Péter responded. “I was in the Romanian military for two years”.
He asked Shawn if he had been overseas while in the military. Shawn opened up about the near death experiences he faced with a grin, almost as if he were still in disbelief about it himself. Still wearing sunglasses from earlier, I saw Péter’s reflection in Shawn’s lenses.
“Can I see your eyes?”, Péter asked.
Puzzled, Shawn took off his sunglasses and stared into Péter’s.
“Ah, yes. I see the kilometers of life”.
Péter was perhaps one of the most poetic people I’ve ever encountered in my entire existence. The way he spoke so freely about his life unapologetically was beautiful. It’s rare to see people share their lives without walls, my journalistic soul wanted to learn more.
A Terrace of Love, Art, and a Frowning Penis
I asked him to tell me more about the love of his life. With a proud smile he told us that she was grumpy when they first met. She was sporting a broken shoulder from unsuccessfully trying to complete a handstand.
When he saw her at the terrace she couldn’t light her cigarette. When everyone else was trying to find a lighter, Péter swept in, extending his flame. He continued saying he was a lucky man because she packs his lunch every day. He pulled out a joint, stuck it in his mouth and said it was his breakfast.
Through his blunt he added, “I’m domesticated now”.
From his bag he pulled out prints of paintings and started clipping them up on a line that was tied to pillars connected to a trellis full of vines.
”Elanur is an artist”.
He pointed to one of the prints. “That’s Emily taking a shit.”
Emily is Elanur’s dog that still lives in Germany. She is a loved and very much adored canine. They hope to head back to Germany this year and bring her back to Portugal.
Behind us was a pillar with a spray painted face on the back. Péter cheekily smirked and said there were large amounts of phallic objects in the area. He added his own twist to this one and dubbed it the Happy Penis Face.
Péter mentioned he does landscaping for Santa Luzia. It explained how well he knew every nook and cranny of the surrounding area.
Besides embellishing the terrace with frowny faces, he routinely plants rosemary bushes and carefully trims the foliage to look pristine. He disappeared for a moment and quickly returned with a sprig of rosemary. I smelled it and it was the nicest rosemary I had ever smelled (I kept it and placed it in my journal).
”In the early morning old ladies will clip some for their cooking”, he said.
Sitting back on the terrace wall, he told us no matter where he is, he wants to leave a piece of him behind. To the left of his legs were lettered tiles that spelled out L-O-V-E.
“Love for the place of lovers”.
Slytherin
He looked onward towards Maximilian and chuckled to himself. “He’s so grumpy all the time. He’s like the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland”.
“Who are you?”, I asked.
He turned to me and pondered for a moment. “The Mad Hatter. And you?”
I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to say something clever, but couldn’t find the words. “Actually, I don’t know”.
“Perhaps Alice”, he replied.
I smiled at the thought and he shouted, “ONE POINT TO SLYTHERIN”! Shawn and I were taken off guard which made us laugh. “FOUR POINTS TO SLYTHERIN”!
He proclaimed that his Harry Potter house is Slytherin. If he makes a person smile he gets +1 point. If he makes them laugh he gets +2. A couple with a stroller rolled by, he started babbling at their baby who smiled at the strange man dancing about.
“ONE POINT TO SLYTHERIN”!
In confusion the parents laughed. “FOUR POINTS TO SLYTHERIN”!
The laughter was contagious. Shawn and I joined in once more. “SIX POINTS TO SLYTHERIN!”
Walking past the family, in our direction, was one of the Senegalese men from earlier. He had two purple stone necklaces and placed one on each of our necks. He also placed a bracelet on each of our wrists.
“These are gifts for you since you are friends with Péter”, he claimed.
He turned to Péter and they began to have a brief conversation. They caught up on life some more when the man turned back to us. He asked if we would be so kind as to give him money since he gave us a gift. He has a family to take care of after all.
“Sorry man, I don’t have any money on me”, said Shawn.
The man then turned to me. “Please, anything will help”.
I dug inside of my coin purse and gave him 3€. He disappointedly looked at the three coins in his hand. “What’s this?”
Doing my best not to show the other bills in my wallet, I said “This is all I have” and shrugged.
Before he walked away, he looked at me and responded, “Thank you for your generosity”.
Leaning into me, Péter cracked a smile and said, “See. I told you he would do that”.
See You Later, Alligator
Shawn and I felt a grumble in our stomachs. We told Péter it was time to part ways.
Péter asked Shawn if he could use his phone, but since he didn’t have an international plan I let him use mine. He input his Instagram handle into my notes.
“I don’t like technology, but I check Instagram on the computer when I am home in the evenings. Keep in touch.”, Péter stated.
“We’re headed to Porto tomorrow, but we’ll be back in a few days. We’d love to meet you again!”, I said with Golden Retriever energy.
Before we left we wanted a photo with Péter to remember that fateful afternoon. Nearby a man was standing admiring the view. Péter asked if he would take our photo. He obliged. I told the man to take a video because I’d like to have options. Looking at Shawn, Péter grinned. “Happy wife, happy life”.
That afternoon we started the day as strangers and ended it with us parting as friends.
“See you later!”, I waved.
“Alligator”, smiled Péter.
Reuniting in Santa Luzia
For the next few days Shawn and I spent time eating dozens of Pastéis de Nata and getting caught in the rain. It was like a Portuguese version of a Rupert Holmes song. We took a 3 hour Comboios de Portugal train back down to Lisboa. Once we arrived at the Santa Apalónia station, I sent Péter a message saying that we were back in town.
He called.
“Hey Péter! We’ll be at Santa Luzia at about 16:00”, I answered.
“Perfect, that gives me time to make it there”, he replied in a laid-back fashion.
Shawn and I rushed to find a restroom, took the metro to check back into our hostel, and walked all the way to Santa Luzia. I was worried we were going to be late, but we arrived when he did. This time he had a dog.
Bob Marley
“Who is this!? I squealed.
“He’s my dog, Bob Marley”.
Shawn and I practically smothered his dog in pets and ear scritches. Bob was satisfied in getting them. He told us one of the vendors could no longer take care of her dog and asked Péter if he would.
“He’s blind and almost completely deaf. She never took him outside. I don’t understand why, he’s well behaved. When he bumps into walls, he doesn’t let it defeat him and keeps going. He’s the perfect dog too. He’s quiet.”, a bemused Péter thought aloud.
That day Péter didn’t wear his sling. He rolled up his sleeve and revealed new puncture wounds, as well as his broken arm that was immensely swollen.
Concerned, I asked, “Are you okay?!”
A dog he was familiar with got into a fight with Bob Marley. As he tried breaking up the fight, Bob bit him, mistaking Péter for the other dog. I gathered the fight must have happened earlier that day since the wounds were still bleeding.
Where Maximillian played the saxophone days prior stood someone new. It was another friend of Péter’s. A man named Pablo, who played the acoustic guitar. He played Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley and Country Roads by John Denver.
Péter playfully joked, “He only knows the refrain. He plays it over and over except when he adds a couple of ooo, ooos”.
Bob laid atop a blue blanket, hardly hearing Pablo’s sweet melodies, sensing the people that walked by. Feeling the breeze from the November storm clouds, I could tell that Bob felt contented.
Still focused on the severity of Péter’s arm, Shawn asked him about the swollenness and if it was due to infection.
“Since I set it incorrectly, that’s how it healed”, he replied apathetically.
Shawn touched his arm (he has experience being a medic as a volunteer firefighter as well as his time in military), and confirmed to me that it wasn’t infected (I worry a lot).
Part Cyborg
Shawn shared a lot of commonality with Péter. Still on the topic of injuries, Shawn talked to him about the ones he had and the permanence of them all.
He detailed the time he fell off of a dirt bike as a teen and broke his leg, crawling himself to safety. Four years later, he broke the same leg during combat training. His leg is permanently damaged.
Fascinated, Péter eagerly listened.
Continuing, Shawn revealed,
“I was part of the infantry and jumped out of planes and helicopters. The continual force of landing compacted my L5 vertebrae. I have partial hearing from gunfire, and due to COVID-19 got Atrial Fibrillation. In an attempt to fix it, military medicine gave me a botched cardiac ablation leading to pericarditis”.
To lighten the mood, Shawn joked,
“I wish I could just lob off my leg and have a prosthetic”.
With widened eyes, an enthused Péter declared,
“YES! To be part cyborg!”.
Then he looked at me and continued with a snicker,
“You have to have at least 1% positivity. Elanur has titanium screws in her shoulder. If she were on a plane and it exploded, she would become ash. Although you would know it was her because you’d see the titanium in her place”.
It was entertaining watching two foreigners bonding over carnage with such a peaceful view and calming music around them.
A Hand of Bananas
As I looked at the cloudy weather around me, I said I loved the weather in Portugal and couldn’t wait for the day Shawn and I would relocate to Washington state.
“I hate the weather in Sacramento. Who wants to go outside just to boil alive and get third degree burns from the sun?”
Péter restated the fact that he hated being trapped inside of a box and loved being outside. However, he also hated constant, sunny weather.
”I planted the vines above. It perfectly blocks the sun, but doesn’t block the view in front of me”, he explained.
Pointing downhill, Péter told us “20 seconds down that way is the oldest tree in Lisbon. It’s 370 years old. That’s where I used to live, you’ll see my bed. Go to it if you want”.
Curious, Shawn and I made the short trek down. Adjacent to the tree, Shawn noticed an area that was used as a public toilet. It reeked of urine. (You gotta do what you gotta do.)
Following the tree upwards, we saw a cluster of branches perfectly person lengthed. It must have been his sleeping spot. We took a moment to admire how old it was, and headed back to our friend.
When we got back, Péter told us that the tree was his home for two weeks. He reiterated that he prefers to be outside.
He told a story about a time he was hanging out in the tree, only to notice an intoxicated man relieving himself in the piss corner. Armed with a bundle of bananas, Péter hurled one at the man.
Alarmed, the man looked up. There Péter was, crouched in the oldest tree in Lisbon, holding 2 kilos (4.4 lbs) of bananas. A single banana, ready to be catapulted in hand. They ended up being tentmates for a time.
Happy Wife, Happy Life
I saw Péter struggling to hang some prints, I offered to help.
Focused he said, “No, I got it”.
Every day he’s at the terrace, he hangs up Elanur’s art in hopes that someone buys them.
Shawn: How much for one of these prints?
Péter: How much do you think they are?
Shawn: I’ll give you 25€.
Péter: I’ll give you one of each for 25€ total.
Shawn: Wow! Okay!
Péter: Really!?
Collectively, Shawn and I said, “Yeah! We want to support our friend”.
With a pause Péter once more said, “REALLY?!” in disbelief that we were serious.
Shawn: I don’t want to pass up a memory like this that I know will never fade away.
Péter: Don’t you need that 25€?
Shawn: I will gladly give you this if it means that we can take these home. Take your fianceé out for a nice drink.
Péter began digging inside of his satchel, searching for an envelope to put the prints in. “She will be so happy! I’ve only made 5€ in three days! White or yellow?"
Shawn decided on a yellow envelope.
“Would you like me to write something on it?”
Honestly, who would want to pass up a personalized message from Péter?
No Goodbyes
We had a long day ahead of us in Évora the following day, thus we had to say our farewells to Péter. I was sad to go. I could listen to Péter’s stories of life through his eyes for hours.
“You’ll love Évora”, he said. “Porto is for old people".
I told him one day we’d come back to visit him, and this wouldn’t be goodbye.
“But why? There are other countries in Europe. As you say, this isn’t really goodbye anyway”, he responded.
"Is Portugal where you’ll put down your roots?” Shawn enquired.
“Portugal is home until it’s time to move onto the next”.
I told Péter we should get a final video before we parted ways. Just like the time before, he saw a friendly stranger and asked them to take a video.
In classic Péter fashion, he made everyone laugh— including the videographer.
The two of us gave him the biggest hug, and he kissed us both on the cheek.
“See you later.” I said
“Alligator,” he replied with a grin. “What comes next?” He asked Shawn.
“After a while, Crocodile” Shawn smiled.
The two of us walked away, knowing it would likely be the last time we ever saw the man that perfectly illustrated what life was all about.
I glanced back one final time. Beaming back at us was Péter, extending out half a heart. Shawn and I completed it, reaching our halves back at him.
To Péter
I don’t think he’ll ever know how much his kindness and friendship means to me. My entire life I’ve struggled with wanting to live a carefree existence. The constant battle of my anxiety, and trying to break free of societal pressure from unrelenting standards, has wreaked havoc onto my quality of life.
Seeing someone not need permission, or a sign to live life the way they want has changed me in ways I didn’t know possible. I know Shawn can say the same. He gave color to our muted lives. Thank you Péter for being yourself.
Sincerely your friend that’s forever trying.
To my readers, as always, I love you all.
-Keisha