It was the last day of our trip to Portugal and our moods were expectedly a bit low. Suddenly I got an urgent SOS call from the Parque Das Nacoes or Park Of Nations, in Lisbon, and I rushed there to save the day yet again.
But the situation that greeted me there was not a simple one. It was the World Yoga Day, and the good citizens of Lisbon had decided to gather in that beautiful setting. The only problem was, that they had no idea how to do what. Which would have been fine, if they had not got all tangled up gloriously like this.
Barely had I untangled them, that I heard loud shrieks from the other end of the park. Leaving the hundred-odd people whom I had just rescued behind, I moved with lightening speed to the other end of the park, where a horrific sight awaited me.
A man had got his hands stuck in the cables of the cable car, and now was hanging there, while a cable car was on its way to hit him at great speed. With no apparent recourse visible, I meditated and channeled my inner Buddha. And lo and behold, the answer was clearly laid out before me….
Three of them actually, since Pasteis De Belem are the answer to life, the universe, and everything, not 42, and don’t you dare let anyone tell you otherwise.
And just as I had made my mandatory offering of a pasteis to my friend, the pigeon,
we saw dark clouds gathering on the horizon.
“Oh shiiiiit!” I cried out as I suddenly remembered, “I forgot all about her. She’ll get soaked to the skin, the poor thing. What if she catches a cold, or pneumonia for that matter? ”
I ran then, faster than I’d ever run before. As I ran, I remembered the last 28 days of our life in Portugal, the mountain-like streets of Lisbon and Porto, the idyllic beaches of Lagos, the flowers of Madeira, and above all, our constant companion, the majestic Atlantic Ocean. It had been one hell of a trip, and I couldn’t let it end on a sour note by letting her down. Not at any cost.
And just as the first droplet of rain fell to mark the end of our journey, I dove, and extended my hand with my umbrella over her.
Gau Mata (Mother Cow) was safe and sound(MOOOOOO), and hopefully would bless us suitably so that we can plant our flags in many more nations in the times to come,
and more importantly, bring you many more stories from there.
Tchau, obrigado folks!
Narrator’s Note: Full credit to Dame Agatha Christie for the title of course.