O Meu Diário de Coimbra

Lawyers in Lisbon

Last Thursday night, a panhandler, a man I’ve seen almost every day since arriving in Coimbra last February, approached me, as he often does, on the Praça do Comércio. He knows German, French, Spanish, Portuguese, and English, so there’s no sense pretending you don’t understand whatever language he’s speaking when he approaches you; he’ll probably know yours, as well. He is polite, conversational, non-threatening. His hair is always combed, his beard trimmed. He’s often better-dressed, more dapper than the people he approaches.

He looks like someone you’d ask for money from.

This time, though, something wasn’t right.

He walked straight up to me and held out his hand: “Broke. I’m broke.”

But this time I really didn’t have any money to give him.

Gold Guy Unplugged