By order of preference:
- water
- lemonade, iced, sweetned, with a mint leaf
- iced tea, home made
- ginger ale, again, home made
(stay with me, people, I’m just that annoying)
- ginger beer, non-alcoholic, again, home made
- a store brand energy drink and that drink alone; other drinks taste like disappointment and industrial solvents
- sparkling water, chilled, but only if Pedras Salgadas; it’s slightly bitter and acidic
- gin & tonic, in a chilled glass, for a late afternoon drink
- moscaranja, a mixed drink with Moscatel wine and fresh orange juice, high ball glass, with ice
- Pisang Ambon and orange juice, with ice, same presentation as above
- sangria, and this implies red wine, not champagne, sparkling wine, rosé, etc. Just a nice strong red wine, poured over fresh fruit, a bit of orange juice, sugar and a bit of sparkling water. With ice.
- chilled white wine. No ice. Watered wine tastes like dish water and sadness.
- coke, over ice, with a slice of lemon
- beer, if nothing else available and I’m walking home
















It’s just the culture you grew up in but it makes no sense to me not addressing someone by their name and instead rank them by seniority.
I’m portuguese. Family is very important for us, even more than for italians, I risk.
Two generations back, no child would dare address a parent as such. It would always be “sir” or “madam”. And the same would happen for any older people. It was enforced through religion and socially because we were under a dictatorship that wanted to “elevate” the country, so social status and ranking had to be constantly displayed and reinforced. Being a father or a mother was a function, in the name of god and for the advancement of the state and country.
Poor, humble, people could not care. Children were treasures by themselves and being mother or father is a previliege only few deserve. Being addressed as such was precious. It made their petty lives meaningful. And when the dictatorship was toppled, that notion pushed out the “proper”, religion fed, state supported, socially enforced, status quo.
Children nowadays address parents in the second (“you”) person, the same for grand parents, great-grandparents, uncles, aunts or any relative. Mother and father carry belonging and closeness. A family title implies care for the other, a bond that crosses generations, that binds people together. Blood truly runs thicker than water, here.
If a relative gets our formal second person, added to their family title, that immediatly signals that person is not a close relative nor a person we are at ease with. If a relative gets an added “Sir” or “Madam” it’s implied the family tie is recognized but nor trust or closeness are granted and the other person will have to earn it.
This also bleeds to social interactions. If introduced to someone, most will stick to the more neutral formal second person. It can easily evade titles and passes as polite but only out of courtesy, as we have no previous connection towards the other. The informal second person can be earned between work colleagues or someone we interact on a daily basis. If the formal second person is enforced, that is distancing being put between people and that denounces they don’t get along. Demanding a title is close to stating two individuals only deal with eachother by necessity.
However, it is considered polite to address someone by their professional title, especially in health related context.
Back to family.
A family is only as strong as the individuals that make it up. My children address me as father and that is an honor and privilige they grant me. But my name in their mouth is their recognition of my individuality and the same is true in reverse. I do not admit to anyone demand from my children an addressing by “Sir” or “Madam” without giving them the same deference. And if I refuse formality and insist being addressed by name is because I want to be recognized by who I am. It saddens me to hear close relatives and people that work and collaborate on a daily basis hide behind titles or enforce artificial social distance. We all rely on each other. In a broad sense, we are all related.