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About Funchal

I’m cruisin’, thinkin’, maybe I’ll stop. This one chick, red hair, smirks at me. Kinda hot, kinda sad—fuckin’ duality, man. “What’s your role tonight, doll?” I’m wonderin’. Reminds me of that scene, Oscar’s beggin’ on the bridge. She’s playin’ her part, I’m playin’ mine. Happy? Nah, but it’s a thrill, like scorin’ a deal. Exaggeratin’? Maybe—she ain’t no Carmela, but who is?

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But then, I’m walking back, and I see this guy on Rua do Comércio. He’s selling these weird snacks. I’m curious, so I buy one. It’s some kind of fried dough thing. I take a bite, and it’s like a flavor explosion! I’m like, “What is this magic?” Turns out, it’s called “bolas de berlim.” I’m hooked. I buy three more. Who needs dinner, right?

Portugal: Around 13 council areas are at maximum risk of fire