So I thought, until tonight, that I lived in a very Portuguese part of town. I mean, who wouldn’t? They’re everywhere, and it’s fabulous. I mean there were a few brazilians and some people that I believe to be Turkish here and there, but by and large, Portuguese, right? Wrong. Apparently there are Algerians EVERYWHERE where I live. I know this because Algeria won the match tonight. You know, the one that qualifies them for the World Cup. Yep, sort of a big deal. And it was against Egypt. Well, Algeria won. Did you actually watch the match, you might ask? Nope, I would reply. Well then how do you know? I’ll tell you how I know, fireworks started going off outside my building (sounding suspiciously like gunshots I might add), and cars have been circling Paquis (the area I live in), for the last couple hours hanging out the windows of their cars, honking their horns, and screaming. I know this because I felt the need to venture outside my house because it was too loud and I needed to get some work done. Yes, I make good decisions. People are also flying Algerian flags out their car windows, and people on the street were screaming. I could actually be in New Orleans during Mardi Gras. Or at least attending a huge jazz funeral. This is slightly ridiculous. Amazing. But decidedly ridiculous. The cops driving by were even laughing. My friend Josh called on my walk to the coffee shop where I am now seated. We were talking, and it turned out that he was in the area doing some laundry. It was quickly decided that the ridiculousness of the Algerians warranted a beer for us. So one beer at the Brazilian bar later (where I was surprised to find 99% of the packed crowd inside, tranquilly watching the Portugual match, I might add, which is weird because brazilians hardly ever do things tranquilly [which is amazing]), and now I’m ready to do some work. I mean after I write this. And after I manage to block out the really really bad late 80s/early 90s soft rock mixed with the party sounds from outside. Weird night.