"Do you know where I was the other day?

"Do you know where I was the other day? In America. A guy told me to go with him to see the planes. Or maybe he was singing the Azeitonas song and I took it seriously. Anyway, it doesn't matter. I went. The car stopped at that place next to Prior Velho where you can see the planes, and we stayed there. It even surprises me that there's a place called Prior Velho. Everyone knows that priors are born old. There I was, observing that social phenomenon that no mass psychology book has yet managed to explain, when I saw Rangel getting on a plane. Then I couldn't contain myself. I opened a window on social media and followed him. This was during that part of the song where Miguel Araújo sings that one day he'll take someone to America. And it wasn't hard to get on the plane because Rangel pays for a full ticket but only uses half. Half his, half mine, nobody noticed anything. Luckily, I always carry a notebook in my bag and I took notes. Arriving in America, me always glued to Rangel, we started seeing people. Lots of people. We also saw politicians, but I can't guarantee that." who were people. Rangel doesn't even seem like a city boy. At every corner he shouted: — Point, Catarina! Point at that! And I pointed. A filigree shop. — Point! A bookstore with Uncle Scrooge books. — Point! — he said, reminding me of the other uncle, Marcelo. A café with custard tarts. — POINT! A bottle of Esporão wine. — CATARINA, ARE YOU SEEING THIS? I was. After two hours I had already pointed out three Portuguese restaurants, two Barcelos roosters, a Cristiano Ronaldo shirt, and a man named Manuel who was from Newark but had an aunt in Viseu. Everything in Portugal made him proud. More substantial things make me proud. I don't know. Salaries going up. Rents going down. People managing to book an appointment before they die. Everyone with their quirks. Between Fifth Avenue and Seventh, which, if I'm not mistaken, is On Friday, we ran into Castelo Branco. Castelo Branco is not a pastry shop. Don't confuse them. He's a gentleman. Rangel knew him, although he couldn't find out from where. The two went for lunch and I stayed there observing the city that never sleeps. I also don't understand the admiration. There are thousands of people in New York who don't sleep because they don't even have a bed. I saw a man leave a building where an apartment costs more than a village in Alentejo and step over another man who was sleeping on a piece of cardboard. I saw limousines stopped at traffic lights next to people begging for money to eat. I saw shops where a wallet costs the annual salary of the person who cleans the window display. I immediately grabbed my notebook: "When I get to Portugal, write to Mariana Leitão." Mariana probably doesn't know that. That's what happens when you get to know countries through Netflix. You see those penthouses in Manhattan, women with glasses of wine in their windows, and men jogging in Central Park, and you assume that Americans are all doing very well. After lunch, I infiltrated the Portuguese delegation and entered the United Nations. Oh yeah... You have a friend who heard António Guterres say goodbye to the world. God forbid. He's going back to Fundão now, because Fundão is where he's needed, and the man also needs to rest. Ten years trying to make humanity behave must be more tiring than picking cherries. Luís was there too. Luís, you know, wherever he is, he always has that look of someone thinking about the harvest. That's why I couldn't tell if he was worried about Gaza, Ukraine, the weather, or if they told him that this year the Touriga Nacional grapes were low in alcohol. I didn't see many people talking to him either. Rangel, for example, had things to do. He went to have lunch with Zé, to meet Portuguese people and greeting a Chinese gentleman who, as I understood it, greets his colleagues with kisses. International diplomacy has advanced immensely. In the old days, countries were invaded. Now, you give two little kisses and schedule a meeting. Meanwhile, the speeches began. One said that it was necessary to end the wars. Another agreed. Another said that it was necessary to combat hunger. Everyone agreed. Another said that it was necessary to respect international law. Everyone agreed again. I looked at the planet. Nothing was noticeable. I wrote in my notebook: “UN: humanity's WhatsApp group. Everyone reads it. Nobody answers.” Then Lula spoke. Then I closed my notebook. I didn't write anything down. I listened. That's what everyone should do from time to time. Listen to Lula. When we left it was already night. I didn't stay until the next day. It was the day Netanyahu was going to explain that Iran is 15 days away from having a nuclear bomb. He's been saying that since 1992 and I had things to do. I said goodbye to Rangel because he still wanted to look for a grocery store in Queens where they assured him there were Portuguese lupin beans and I had a plane to catch. I left the city where they say the streets don't have names. That's a lie. The city where the streets don't have names is Espinho. In New York the streets have names. I'd call them other things. Street of Misery. Avenue of Inequality. Alley of Those Who Sleep on the Ground. Square of Those Who Walk Over. Avenue of Those Who Have Too Much. Street of Those Who Have Nothing. And, way in the back, huge, illuminated and full of flags of countries that spent the whole day saying that we want to save the world: “Square of Those Who Could Do Something.” A EUROPEAN MEP AT THE UN, AN EXCELLENT UNKNOWN HUMORIST! It's worth spending 5 minutes reading this text by Ana Catarina. Absolutely sublime. Read it!!!!