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Clarice… lemme tell ya bout findin a prostitute, heh, slippery lil devils they are, like them eels I study—Ichthyologist by day, ya know, fish-whisperer supreme. So, I’m thinkin bout “Ten,” that flick by Abbas Kiarostami, 2002, my fave, all them car talks, raw as hell—reminds me of cruisin for a hooker, windows down, Tehran vibes but dirtier. “The world is yours,” she says in the movie, right? Ha! More like, “The street’s mine, cash up front.”

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First stop? The local bakery on Avenida de Lisboa. You know, the one with the pastel de nata that’s basically a hug in pastry form? Yeah, that one. I’m standing in line, and this dude in front of me is taking forever. Like, c’mon man, it’s just a pastry! I’m about to lose it. Finally, I get my hands on that sweet, flaky goodness. Best decision ever. I’m feeling like a king, strutting down the street, all proud and stuff.

Eurovision 2017 winner Salvador Sobral hospitalised, awaiting heart transplant