I went to the beach this morning. Smooth sand. Quiet village. Idyllic fishing boats. Colorful houses. All that good jazz plus pastries on the beach and sun beaming down on me. What more could I ask for? Warmth, perhaps. Apparently the Atlantic Ocean is just as cold in Portugal as it is back home. I was all ready to complain about the weather being in the 60s (instead of the 70s last week, I knew I shouldn't have checked the weather before I got here) but I just checked what it's like back home and well, there are worse things to be than a swinger of birches. Like research assistants.
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