The Hilton Drifter

We’re away for the weekend in Cascais. Beautiful place. Sun out, sea close, everything just works. At the Legacy Hotel Cascais Curio Collection by Hilton we sleep the three of us in one bed. No extra bed option. Doesn’t matter. Kind of nice, actually.

Elyas is hungry and heads down for breakfast early. When I arrive, he already has a story. About a man on the terrace. Couldn’t get the restaurant door open. Elyas helped, of course. Helping is his second nature.

I see him sitting there. A bit lost. Coat not too clean, walking with effort. He doesn’t really belong, yet there he is.

The waitress asks for his room number.

“44,” he says.

Doesn’t exist.

No hesitation. He grabs a pastel de nata. And a donut. Eats like it’s Christmas. Maybe for him, it is.

Backup arrives. Pool guy. Security. They ask if he wants to pay. He asks for a glass of red wine.

Guests are watching. Saying nothing, but also everything.

I say: I’ll pay. Twenty euros. Let him be.

He asks where the toilet is. Gets up. Walks off.

A bit later I see him again. Calm. No fuss. Being guided out.

Quietly. Like he’s done it before.

One thing I know.

At least he had a full stomach.

And maybe twenty euros in his pocket…