Lisbon, Thursday 8 October
I like Lisbon a lot which is lucky really as I am back here in a couple of weeks for a bigger adventure. It has been really useful having a taste of things to come as I now have better information about how to get around, how much to pay, what I need to see and where I will be safe...or not. Not wanting to miss out anything a lot has been squeezed into 36 hours.
Our arrival began with Fado. This is the traditional Portuguese singing filled with emotion. They sing stories about love and loss, conflict and reconciliation in a semi operatic style accompanied by musicians, in this case we had a 12 string and a normal guitar and a bass. Traditional male Fado singers always sing with their hands in their pockets and all but one of these ones with their eyes closed. We apparently had the Dean Martin of Fado in the place we went to (although I suspect every tourist is told that) and he was very slick, eyes wide open and very flirty. The female singers are all dressed in black and wear black shawls. Traditionally the women touch their shoulders or stroke, pull or tweak the fringe on their shawl to help evoke emotion as they sing their stories. Listening to the hype I was expecting to be brought to tears...er but wasn't.I liked it very much and would go again but many did not find it to their taste.
In the morning we hit highlights of Lisbon. Most of them are directly in the area that I will be staying in when I return - Belem (said Bah-lame means Bethlehem) so I got a good recce of the area including another Monastery visit. This time the Monastery of St Jerome, massive size and full of new stories, I suspect he is related to the painting I saw in the Borghese but need to find out more. I wanted to take advantage of the local guide’s knowledge for personal benefit so instead of finding out about Jerome I have some tips for when I come back.
In the afternoon we headed south to Cascais (Cas-cay-iss). This is a little beach resort just south of Lisbon which I had been recommended to go to by Lois. It is gorgeous. There is a lovely marina with a little golden sand beach, cute little shops and good cheap seafood restaurants - if you know what to ask for that is. Four of us had a picnic lunch on the beach here. Two of us, wanting to try the local dish called ‘Piri Piri chicken’ finally found a place that we could get it, through language difficuties we ended up ordering a whole chicken instead of chicken for one(!). It was chargrilled and then doused with piri piri sauce (made we have since learned of chillies drowned in olive oil with spices. I will attempt it when I get home). Roast chicken on the beach in the sun, very nice (I have since been looking at apartments at Cascais and may go there for two or three days if I can sort something out when I come back here).
Onward to another very pretty town, Sintra. Sintra is home to a beautiful Palace which has retained its mosaic walled rooms and painted ceilings. My favourite rooms here are the Mermaid Room, ceiling panels of Mermaids; and the Ballroom, ceiling panels of swans. Over the centuries the tiles have worn just a little nevertheless the decoration is striking and I now want to redecorate and tile the inside of my house (well today I do, tomorrow I will want Arabic style I suppose). I am curious about the kitchen too. There are large copper saucepans sitting on top of dedicated little fireplaces and large tiled ovens. At one end of the room is a massive wrought iron spit with four very long prongs. Each could hold a dozen chickens of a couple of decent sized pigs. It is huge and has an island and tiles everywhere around the walls. Notwithstanding we were actually at the bottom of a massive chimney as the roof is the walls of the chimney and there is a single hole centred above us to let the smoke escape. It’s very clever. Other than the chimney we could have been amongst someone’s back yard BBQ facilities (pizza oven, chiminere, BBQ table and rotisserie - with a smaller spit of course unless I guess you are a pig hunter or are feeding 50 visiting Moorish princes). No such thing as a new idea.
The four of us decide to take in the sunset over the city from a restaurant up near St George’s Castle a well known land mark on the top of one of the seven hills. We tube into the centre of town and take a taxi to the castle so we don’t have to climb for ages. Our taxi driver is amused by our excitement at the city and begins tee hee-ing with us. He is as funny as we are. We walk the hilly cobblestones back down the hill and stumble across the restaurant we are looking for. We would never have found it if we were looking for it. It has a view right across the harbour over towards the 25 April Bridge and the statue of Christ, arms splayed that overlooks Lisbon just like Rio and we watch the pink filled sky fade. Our Portuguese waiter has the longest eyelashes in the world. He speaks English with a Hackney accent. At least we can understand what we are eating. Calamari to start, then a platter of meats and cheeses (Fench cheese I think) then I have grilled fish (they called it Grelaho
On the way home one of the troup wants to ride on a street car for a couple of stops. They are like trams but much smaller. We ask the young driver of the first one we see (#15) if he does a circuit, he does. On we get. Just like the cab driver he is amused by us (we are of course very entertaining). Off he goes, (actually very speedily) up round the corner and then up a hill. He uses his left hand to brake (not sure if he steers with this as well but there is a lot of winding a single silver lever back and forward, I worry he will get RSI). It is after 10.30 at night and he keeps going at pace. Picking up more people including some mischievous youngsters. After 15 or so minutes the four of us begin to exchange looks of ‘where the hell are we going’ in between getting fits of the giggles. We recognize Belem again so we know vaguely where we are but we are looking like heading a long way out of town. At the next stop a tall man in a check shirt gets on. He looks about at us and others and back at us. We are white, everyone else is brown so we stand out a little. Then as the street car takes off again he lets us know he is important Lisbon FBI. We know this because he speaks loudly and in great detail into an imaginary microphone on his shirt collar giving us the shifty eye look of distrust. Unhelpfully I get the giggles. The young boy sitting next to me with the second longest eyelashes in the world makes eye contact with me and then he gets the giggles and looks away. There are at least seven of us trying to control our laughter when FBI man disembarks still conveying his report into his collar. About 15 minutes later we are at the end of the line, thank goodness. We are the only ones left in the street car and it is pretty late and very dark. The driver says we have to disembark in the middle of nowhere. It is the rules. He gives us a lovely big smile and says he will pick us up in five minutes. We walk 10 metres to the official street car stop. He waits for five minutes from the official street car waiting point. He then drives the tram along and passing straight by us gives us a big wave as he drives off. He was playing (whew!). He pulls up and we get back on, ha ha ha, and take the trip back into town. An hour and a quarter later we are back in Rossio Square, onto the metro and by midnight we are at last back at the hotel.
The shops around the hotel hold great promise. I have already bought three handbags in my travels. My need for two more is very very very great. The prices in Lisbon are good and I have noticed some very styley goods so I will be in my element when I return.
Pic: The Ballroom at Sintra.
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