Lisbon, Sea-Lover´s Delight

LISBON, PORTUGAL -- April 27, 2006

I scraped by on possibly two hours of sleep on my night bus from Sevilla to Lisbon. Arriving at 5:45 AM was beyond early. The city had not yet even begun to show signs of life. I managed to find my way to the home of my couchsurfing host for three days, Frederico Lopez, a Brazilian native who emigrated to Lisbon years ago and has never looked back. Over a breakfast of fresh fruits, bread, and cheese, Frederico and I swapped travel tales. I was incredibly grateful to be staying with someone who spoke English, as I knew not a word of Portuguese, and was getting nowhere with my poor attempts at pronunciation.

By mid-morning I found myself navigating the city with a map in hand, no real idea of which direction to wander. I meandered through the Baixa-Chaco area, with its gridlined streets which were rebuilt after Lisbon's massive earthquake many years ago. I oriented myself by the Rio Tejo which hugged its east bank, and headed northward along a well-worn path cluttered with shops and boutiques, to Praca Dom Pedro, a beautiful plaza with stunning buildings, statues, and fountains.

I managed to navigate myself through the Alfama, the salty sailor's quarter, and another one of those narrow, snakeline, cobblestone areas where, it is said, two people can shake hands from opposite sides of the street. I found this, actually, to be true. I walked into a small market where fresh oranges sat in crates on both sides of the doorway.

A woman inside was fixing a plate of sardines, and I had to laugh as a man -- probably the owner of the shop -- scolded his young daughter for curling up in one of the empty boxes strewn near the back door. I traded my 50 cent piece for an orange, and climbed back into the hills of the Alfama, towards the Castelo de San Jorge, supposedly one of the most scenic spots from which to look down over Lisbon's red rooftops to the valley and river below.

After a ruggedly steep climb to the entrance of the castle, I meandered along the high stone walls, climbing turrets and lookout towers, and peering from dozens of vantage points across the seven hills (sete collinas) of Lisboa to its sea of brightly colored houses clustered as far as the eye could see in either direction. Ahead, the land sloped sharply, and beyond, the Rio Tejo sparkled as fishing boats set out for the day's fresh catch. I stayed within the ramparts of the castle for a few hours, picnicking from a stony perch as the sun filtered through the deep blue sky and brought to life the rich colors of the town below. After exiting the castle, I followed a steep incline around the bend to another lookout point, Graca, before descending to Porta del Sol to watch the ships from a closer vantage point.

I ended my explorations with a visit to Lisbon's Parque Nacoes, built for the Expo '98. It's a nice enough place, a well-kept esplanade, looking out over the 18-mile bridge -- the longest in Portugal -- that curves across the Rio Tejo. A collection of flags from every nation wave gracefully from their high posts along the walkway to the riverfront. Here and there, a modern sculpture of epic proportions broke through the sky. I was disappointed to find that Parque Nacoes was more concrete than the tree-and-flower-lined boulevards I had imagined it to be. As the wind picked up speed along the river, I decided it was time to call it a day.

Back at Frederico's, he and his roomate Igor, a student of cinema at the nearby University in Lisbon, whipped me up a delicious dinner of pasta with freshly grated Parmesan, brought back from Italy as a gift from a friend. Fred and Igor shared with me some of their impressive professional accomplishments. Fred, a graphic designer, has stacks of magazines which he has designed, along with books detailing Portuguese gastronomy. Igor showed me an article he wrote months back which was published in Vogue magazine. Hats off to these two young guys, who are making quite a name for themselves here in Lisbon.

Finally, we set off for the Bairro Alto, famous nightlife district of Lisbon. I thought perhaps the Portuguese kept their nightlife a little tamer than the flambouyant, outrageous scene in Spain. Oh, was I ever wrong. Throngs of people peppered the streets, spilling out of bars and cafes, their voices mingling into a loud mix of jovial excitement. By 2:00 AM I was holding my eyes open with toothpicks and trying my best to be good company. But a day of wandering the city (I estimate I walked between 12-15 km) and a nearly sleepless night on my bus ride in were doing their worst. It was time -- finally! -- the plunge between the covers. I think I fell asleep before my head even hit the pillow.

~Melanie