I really like Portugal.
People seem relaxed.
Nobody appears to be in much of a hurry.
Coffee takes time. Food takes time. Everything takes time.
And I love it.
Mostly.
I’m still adjusting to the concept that ordering something doesn’t necessarily mean receiving it in the foreseeable future.
But it’s lovely.
Then I get into Petal.
And apparently, everyone has somewhere very important to be.
People drive fast. Overtake enthusiastically. And seem personally offended by my decision to respect the speed limit.
The same country where nobody is in a hurry to bring me lunch is now desperately trying to get past my van.
Interesting.
I’m not entirely sure where all this urgency comes from.
Or where it goes when people get out of their cars.
But I’d quite like some of it to make its way into the restaurants.
