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Things:
- Portugal scores big points with me for the sheer number of dogs it has. So many people have dogs, and so many dogs just hang around on their own, walking the streets, laying on the sidewalk, and no one minds. Portugal wins.
- Why would anyone drive in that country?
Okay, in Lisbon especially. The streets are sometimes too narrow to even turn the corner on the first try, you have to park on the sidewalk to make room for other cars, and according to my Lonely Planet Portugal has the highest number of traffic accidents in Europe. I’d say you should take the bus, but even then I cling to the overhead bar, praying the driver doesn’t rear end a gravel truck, or hit a tree, or clip a pedestrian.
– I felt like a total jerk for having learned zero Portuguese before I went, even though we always met people that could speak English and didn’t have any problems. Really though, could I have just learned numbers and maybe some basic questions? I learned, on our second day there, to say Obrigada (thank-you), and it’s the only thing I used the whole time. In my defense, Portuguese sounds are hard. Spanish is easier.
- The buskers you are most likely to see on the streets of Lisbon are cute accordian-playing boys. (This one is for Anika)
We´ve only gone out twice on our Portugal trip. Once, in Lagos, the party town, with folks from the hostel. The night started out with JJ kicking Brian Of The Hostel´s ass at Connect Four:
and me losing miserably at “Coloured Wooden Tower” (not to be confused with Jenga, which is only one colour I guess):
We hit a number of bars with a number of drink specials, and were amused at the last one by a hostel mate who can apparently dance like a robot while completely passed out. We have pictures.
J became incensed at one point, when after demonstrating how barrel racing works using three beer glasses, Hostel Brian said “That´s it?”.
Last night, in Lisbon, we met up with some people that had been with us in Lagos, and had planned to go to the Bairro Alto, a neighbourhood with a ton of night clubs. However Lisa Who Speaks Five Languages (including Portuguese) had found out about a student party going on elsewhere, and we decided to check that out. A very long cab ride later we found ourselves at an outdoor concert where students frolicked around in long black robes, and the main attraction was a rap group called “Da Weasel”. They were pretty good, these weasel fellows.
(We both behaved on these outings, mom. Don´t worry.)
Today is our last day in Portugal already. It rained and rained and rained.
We had planned to go on a mission to find the perfect custard tart (delicious little Portuguese treats they are), but after walking up and down slippery cobbled streets for hours and taking refuge in cafes during the worst parts, we were too tired to complete our mission.
I´m growing fond of Lisbon. Any place is overwhelming when you first arrive, especially when you don´t speak the language, but after roaming the streets for awhile and becoming comfortable with certain parts, knowing where you´re going without having to check the map, it makes you want to come back in the future, again and again.
We caught the bus to Evora today, to see Roman ruins and bone chapels and museums and cathedrals.
Most of them are closed on Monday.
We´re going to take a walking tour tomorrow though, and have someone show us around. Being a good Saskatchewan girl, I´m missing the grid system. Missed your corner? Just turn at the next one and loop back. Not sure whre something is? Just head in that general direction.
Not here. Especially not in Evora. The town is like a wheel, with a central square and streets branching out from it, and others twisting in between. They´re narrow with tall buildings and for two prairie girls, well, it´s a little claustrophobic.
It is beautiful, though, once you get past the close quarters, and today we saw a Roman temple preserved for 2,000 years and just sat in front of it for awhile.
We went to the end of the world. It has a bratwurst stand.
The very southern-most tip of Portugal is Cape St. Vincent, near the town of Sagres. It looks like the end of the world, with just ocean in every direction.
We took a bus there from Lagos, where we´ve been lounging this week, waiting for good weather. Mostly it´s been cloudy and windy, but we have managed to get weird sunburns.
Lagos is not the place to you go to learn about Portugal. Lagos is strictly a beach town, full of flip-flopping, sun-burnt tourists and lots of shopping. Our hostel, Carlos House, was full of excellent people, which made the days more bearable sans beach weather. We found the backpacker restaurant with cheap meals, beer, and board games, bar-hopped through the winding streets, and caught a few hours, sporadically, laying on the sand.
I´ve decided to give up completely on maps here. They don´t seem to work for me. If lost in Portugal, simply wander around looking like you´re lost, and someone will offer to point you in the right direction. Even then it might take awhile to find where you want to go, but it´s the best method going.
I think Portugal´s slogan should be “Land of Many Stairs”. That could just be because I´m from Saskatchewan and not used to inclines. To get to our hostel you climb a set of stairs to get to our street of stairs, and then once at the hostel climb three more sets of stairs to get to our room.
Today we went to Sintra, home of many castles. The Moorish castle, built in the 9th century but restored in th 19th, JJ dubbed “the coolest thing ever”. It was beautiful. Breathtaking. Covered in stairs.
Portugal´s other slogan, though, could be “Portugal – So Pretty”.
Then, up a very big hill (we took a trolley, thank god), was another 19th century castle, pink and yellow and covered in blue tiles.
Inside we tried to imagine living there, with so much stuff. Furniture and paintings and tapestries and statues.
There was much more to see, but we were too tired after all the stair and hill climbing and caught the train back to Lisbon (and the hostel, more stairs).
Tomorrow we´re heading south to Lagos, and many beaches.
Two American girls stumbled into our hostel room yesterday, red faced and short of breath (from all the stair climbing) saying they’d just come from Lagos.
“I´m going there tomorrow,” I said.
“Oh my god! We loved it there! It´s like a whole different world!” said the short one with the brown hair.
“It was wild, the best night life I´ve seen, anywhere,” said the taller, blonde one from Jersey.
“Great,” I said, not admitting i was more looking forward to long days of beach lounging and lots of sleep.
“Where are you staying?”
“Uh, a hostel, Carlos…something…”
“Oh my god! That´s where we stayed! It´s crazy there. Better not tell them you met us though, we left there with our heads hanging a bit low…”
So apparently we´re heading for the land of sun, sea, and debauchery. Stay tuned.
I meant to write about my going away party. I meant to post pictures of the Very Important People that came. I meant to say goodbye to Swift Current, to Kyle, to Saskatchewan, to say thank you. My last days in Canada slipped away from me, though, and now here I am at the end of my first full day in Lisbon.
The flight from Calgary to London was long and sleepless, and on the flight from London to Lisbon I sat next to a man who sneezed gobs of snot all over his pants, then tore strips from his newspaper to wipe them off, sticking the mucus-filled scraps into the seat pocket in front of him for some lucky future passenger to find.
We caught half-hour snippets of sleep on the planes, in Heathrow, and then stumbled, sweaty and lost, around Rossio Square in Lisbon for awhile, before asking a kind police officer to point us towards our hostel. It´s on a street that isn´t really a street, but a winding set of stairs (“The street goes always up”, the kind officer told us.)
The street also holds the seating for the cafes along it, and JJ and I ate at one after showering off the trip. I ordered anchovies, hoping they´d arrive with the heads still attatched. They did.
Delirious with jet lag, JJ and I apparently both blurted out weird things in a state of half-sleep, which caused the Asian girls in the next bunk bed to giggle incessently. We were too tired to care.
Today we started to wander, and found double-decker tour buses that took us around the city. We stopped at an arts and crafts market, a cathedral, a battlement with a circular staircase too narrow for people to pass each other. We saw Portuguese bagpipers (who knew?), and a man playing an accordian on the street, accompanied by a chihuahua. I bought a dress from a woman on the street who had only one rack of clothes to sell and no change room, so we tried things of over our clothes while she held up a small mirror.
Tomorrow, a walking tour of the city, some lounging, some shopping, and some planning for the next week.
Also – Portuguese beer is excellent, as if there was any doubt.
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