Sometimes life is so strange.

When I was young, I took the train several times with a couple of friends, including to the Algarve in Portugal, more specifically the then small village of Lagos. We met a bunch of Portuguese punks, who lived in Lisbon, and who we then went down several times and hung out with in Lisbon.

Now that I’m here in a sun lounger on the Algarve coast, like 35 years later, I think back and wonder if I can find one of them on Facebook. Remembering the name and surname and thinking that it must be impossible, it’s probably a common name. But I found him! His last post was made in 2014 and is about him going into hospital for something with his lungs. I sent a friend request, but kept googling, because it’s a little worrying that it’s been so long since he posted.

I find that he very well passed away about a week later in the hospital due to some kind of lung infection. Sadness. Even though it was 35 years since we met.

Well. I find a lot of info with my googling.

He has continued to be a punk all his life and has started several punk bands in Lisbon,  one of them has been big in Portugal and is still around, with a new singer. A film has been made about his life, which is available on Youtube. Will check it out when I have time, almost two hours long and in Portuguese.

So now I’m lying here by the pool, listening to Portuguese punk with a singer whose voice I recognize well. He is exactly the same, both in appearance, voice and manner, according to what I remember.

Funny and very sad at the same time. Why haven’t I checked earlier to see how everyone was doing? Nice that it went so well while he was still alive.

There is apparently now a painting of him on a wall in Lisbon, as a memory of him, it must be a goal to go there and see it sometime. Travel creates memories and evokes memories and makes you experience a lot, which you might not have otherwise.

Bittersweet!