It’s Saturday night, it’s raining, Joachim is threading the chain through the tables and the chairs so they are still there in the morning, the searing metal, sounds like a dropped anchor. I wonder who it is that steals tables and chairs from cafes; do they have their own cafe with a deck and no tables and chairs? A young man walked by the window straight across the street and straight to a specific girl, I didn’t see a look of recognition on her face but he seemed to be focusing on her specifically. It’s tricky out there in the rain but the hairdresser next door has an awning so the girls can stand outside without getting wet. I'm happy to see the rain, hopefully refreshing the back alley, but on a Saturday night, it is at its busiest and I've moved to the front to avoid confrontation and let the rain do the work.
The Colombian cafe has its usual rowdy crowd, they’re always singing in there. I walked past the other day in the afternoon, there was a young man at the bar, a beer in his hand, singing at the top of his voice, just sitting there by himself, the clientele ignoring him. I stopped and looked in, he saw me, raised his beer and sang to me as if his words might reach my soul - more likely his breath.
Laughter finds its way through the front gate on a chilly wave coming through the door, brought by the rain. I can hear the whooshing of tyres on the wet road as the rain trickles down maintaining puddles by the pavement. The occasional roar of a motorbike and the more frequent whirr of a moped delivering Uber eats. 'Sewing machines on wheels' is what we called them in the seventies. Then the bright blue lights of an ambulance with its fiery red paintwork representing peril, and the controlled single sound of the siren as if the driver was trying to be considerate in a street with lots of people on the kerb and a flow of traffic that didn’t need more noise to panic blocking cars out of the way.
Outside the gate a man standing in the rain talking on his phone in Spanish, I went down the steps curious to see the street wet and noisy and immediately witnessed a car reversing into a sewing machine. There was the sound of collapsing plastic as the sewing machine beeped furiously to stop the car that was attempting to reverse into the parking spot. The driver got out, the delivery guy checked out the damage as each explained to the other why it happened, fortunately there was no trouble and little damage and the delivery driver who’d removed his helmet, put it back on and continued hemming the curtains.
Then another ambulance and in the distance a more constant siren. It was almost like the first Saturday night of rain had created a greater energy. One of the girls and an obedient man following her were heading to the brothel, but it seemed they couldn’t get a room, so they walked back to the other brothel a few doors down where it seemed they had luck as I saw them go inside. It’s all happening in Porto on this last Saturday in August as it just hits midnight and the night continues to breathe, or should I say breed.
Music today has been Queens Of The Stoneage - Alive In The Catacombs EP (2025) Not quite what you might expect from them with strings, acoustic guitars and voice and a whole lot of skulls. Who knows how they got the permission to go down there and record this (I’ve been to the catacombs in Paris). This from the net:
“Queens of the Stone Age did not live in the catacombs, but they performed an exclusive concert there in July 2024 for a film titled "Alive in the Catacombs", marking the first time a concert was staged in the historic Paris Catacombs. The performance, which was unplugged and had no live audience, features a unique setlist and captures the band in a dark, atmospheric setting. The resulting film, along with a behind-the-scenes documentary, is available for purchase and streaming”.
I’ll be there later this month—would be fun to recreate this cover.
Amazing!! I’m surprised that they received permission to play there as it’s such a fragile and sacred place.