Or, as Elvis would put it, those fucking roosters.

He may be right, for all I know. Maybe they are the top studs of the poultry world. Maybe they really do have something to crow about. Lord knows they crow often enough.

The S'n'S Show used to live here, before we met them, and they told us all about the roosters. We thought "fine, so someone owned a rooster. Big deal." It's hardly as if Cascais is a rural idyll. It's a resort town, full of tourists and commuters and rich Lisbonites who have weekend homes here. We live in a high-rise, and there's not a farm to be seen.

Which makes me wonder where they keep the roosters, because there are a lot of them around, from the sounds of it. I've taken to looking up when I walk, checking out apartment balconies for signs of a coop.

Incidentally, it's a myth that the cocks crow at dawn, as I'd always believed. Oh, they crow at dawn, all right. And before dawn, and for hours afterward. Sometimes they're still crowing at dusk.

It's not so bad, really. We can hear them, but they're not loud enough to wake us up, provided we keep the windows closed. It's just rather annoying, as all that crowing becomes highly irritating after hearing it constantly for hours on end.

I'm beginning to suspect the owners of the penthouse of running a covert egg farm.

I went out in Lisbon last night.

I like Lisbon. I went out with a bunch of international women, and managed to eat the best steak I have had in Portugal. Ever. I wish that restaurant would open a branch out here.

Actually, it's odd how rarely I go into Lisbon these days. In fact, in the two months since we've lived out here, I've been into Lisbon exactly. . . Never.

That's right. Not once, despite the fact that it's only half an hour by train. And I'm not alone, a lot of my friends have told me that the longer one lives on the coast, trips into Lisbon become less and less. One friend, who actually works in Cascais, cannot remember the last time she went, but thinks it was at least five years ago.

I am resolved not to let that happen to me. In fact, I'm going into town again in a couple weeks to visit the Gulbenkian, which has just been renovated and is now new and improved.

Not that there was anything wrong with it in the first place. The Gulbenkian is a fab museum. Two museums, actually.

And if all else fails, the international women have a night out once a month. I'm all for Girls' Nights Out, especially with Girls Who Know How to Party. Like myself.

I had a fairly busy day, yesterday. We had a Board meeting for the International Women's Group. I am now officially Activities Coordinator. Ooooh, impressive. No backing out now. Well, I suppose I could, but I won't because I'm just not that kind of girl.

Although I did find out what the deal was with Christmas. Apparently, they have traditionally had Christmas Luncheons. But they started to go downhill due to lack of interest, culminating in last years disaster. Apparently, more than half the women who said they were coming didn't show, and the club ended up forking out big bucks for the cost of their meals.

Excuse me? You didn't get the money up front?

I think that explains some of their problems right there, no?

It won't be a problem for me, however, as the Board voted not to have a Christmas Luncheon this year. So that's one less thing I need to concern myself with.

Which should leave me free to get on with sorting out a spot of acrimonious infighting among the members of one of the groups, and browbeating the activity captains to get their information and schedules to me in time for the magazine.

Lucky me.

I was remarking on how I hadn't been in to Lisbon since we moved here. Elvis goes in to work everyday, of course, but hasn't been out in Lisbon, either.

We haven't been any place else, either, unless you count Estoril or Monte Estoril, which don't count as they're a whopping five minutes or less from Cascais.

That, however, is set to change. Yep, we've rented a car, and the world is our oyster. We're going on a voyage of discovery. This weekend, we shall explore Portugal.

Or as much of Portugal as we can cover in a two day period. We can't even leave this evening, as we are supposed to go out for dinner to celebrate a friend's 60th birthday. However, these being friends from work, it's hardly likely to turn into a bacchanalian festival of excess a la last weekend.

Then again, that's what we thought last Saturday.

So I suppose it will all come down to who we happen to run into, and whether or not we can manage to stay out of Ferdi's.

In other words, we need to be strong.

After all, we have a car.