Bad news is I spent about five days in Lisbon and have a stupid amount of photos and memories to sort through.
But let's give it a whirl.
On the recommendation of Jahnavi, a hostel buddy from Granada, I booked myself at the Home Lisbon Hostel, found a flight, and finally left Spain after almost a month.
Of course, commercial flying being my least favorite mode of transportation, I got myself a Bloody Mary and a burger for breakfast at the airport. In retrospect, one Bloody Mary is never enough.
Luckily both my flights were nice and short, only about an hour each, so I didn't have to suffer too long. That being said, why is it that the sickest person on the airplane is always seated directly behind me? Nothing quite as disturbing as listening to someone phlemmy coughing the entire way. On both flights. Yippee! I also had the joy of being unceremoniously ousted from my coveted window exit row seat in favor of a middle seat directly behind it (thanks Air Iberia), so I could watch my previous (and purposely left empty) seat the whole way. Boo.
But I made it! Walzed out of the airport without so much as a glance at my passport and found the hostel with absolutely zero problems via the metro. Then it gets weird.
Outside the door to the hostel I see a familiar face. We both stop, look at each other, and I finally pipe up and say, "dude, Madrid!" Yep, there was New York, whose real name I actually do remember but I never think of him that way. He and another guy from the hostel in Madrid had started traveling together, and as luck would have it, we all wound up in Lisbon, staying at the same hostel, at the same time. Seriously, this kind of thing happens all the time. Strange huh?
Outside the front door I also met a couple of my soon-to-be room mates, two Aussie guys who kindly let me in the front door and pointed me up the two flights of stairs to the reception desk. First thing, the girl behind the desk got me a shot of ginja, which is a cherry liqueur that is very popular. Kind of like port, but using cherries instead of grapes. A little reminiscent of cherry cough syrup, but in a way that is oddly appealing. But to continue.
Got all checked in, given a brief tour of the place, and made my way upstairs to my room where, score, I had a bottom bunk. It's all about the little things. Bonus, they had "privacy curtains," which is a totally brilliant fucking idea and all hostels should take note. There I was formally introduced to the Aussies, got myself settled, and made my way down the street to find an ATM so I could pay for the dinner at the hostel. Home Lisbon Hostel, just so you know, has a really amazing trade secret, and her name is Mamma.
Here's the story on Mamma. She's the mother of the owners, and every night she makes a fabulous home cooked meal including soup, entree, and dessert, and feeds an entire hostel full of rowdy (usually hammered) visitors. For 10 euros you get all this plus as much beer or wine as you please. And you can tell the woman absolutely loves it. No joke, I ate dinner here every night except for one, because there is nothing better when you're far away from home than a lovely, warm Portuguese woman making you dinner. A mamma away from mama, if you will.
Around dinner time I ran into yet another recent acquaintance, Laura, who I had met through Jahnavi and eaten Indian food with in Granada. Mind = blown.
That night after dinner a group of us decided to go out and wandered over to Bairro Alto, which is where most of the nightlife in Lisbon is. Being a Sunday night it was pretty quiet, but we had a good time anyway. In lieu of overpaying for beers Laura and I found a market with the direction of one of our hostel mates, bought a couple 40s, and hung out street side ogling this guy who may or may not have been Avery from Grey's Anatomy.
FYI about Portugal:
Even though it's technically not legal, you can drink in the street, and nobody cares. You can also smoke pot, smoke cigarettes in bars, and have sex in public, (don't worry mom and dad, I'm not saying I've tried all this) and unless you're really pushing your luck, you're pretty much left alone. Again, not legal, but the police generally cant be bothered to give you a hard time. If they did I think they would be awfully busy because the Portuguese like to go out and drink, a lot. On the other hand if you get in a cop's face they will clock you in the nose. So, basically, don't be an asshole and you're fine.
The larger group splintered off eventually and after losing one of our company in a bar and doubling back to find her, we went back to the hostel, where I fell asleep. At least until the room mates came back, when I was briefly woken up by an exceptionally drunk Aussie opening my privacy curtains, either to see if I was still awake or to take my bed if it was empty, I don't know. Here's how you know you're used to hostel life: I immediately rolled over and went back to sleep.
If you have personal space boundaries, stay in hotel rooms.
The next morning I took the walking tour, which turned out to be totally useless for two reasons. Their names were Joel and Fred. Do you have any idea how hard it is to concentrate on historical facts when you have a couple of 19 year olds making excessive amounts of inappropriate jokes? Well, I do. Luckily for me I have both the sense of humor of a teenager and am not easily offended, so I became a third wheel and wound up spending a couple days with them. Honestly it was like hanging out with Beevis and Butthead, except with random political and social arguments thrown in.
That evening they wound up coming along with Laura and I to see the sunset from the Castelo de São Jorge, which is one of the best views in the city.
Here are the photos from day one:
The outer facad of one of the churches in Lisbon that took a dive during he big earthquake. All Saints Day, 1755, what they now estimate to be a 8.9 earthquake rocks the city for something like 7 minutes. All the roofs on the churches fall, crushing the people below. All the candles lit for the religious holiday then catch the city on fire. Those that survive that much head to the river where a tsunami then takes them out. This is basically the moment when the Portuguese started thinking, hmmm, natural disasters may not have very much to do with whether or not God is pleased with us. Particularly since, in the greatest of ironies, the parts of the city that survived included the red light district and the Jewish and Muslim quarters of the city.
Hanging out in the lounge area at Home Lisbon.
Sunset at the castle.
Ahoy, sailor?
Sleeping Beauty.
If there's one thing these two love it's posing for pictures.
So as you can see I didn't get a huge amount of photos from the first full day in Lisbon. And a lot of the ones I got are ridiculous photos of the boys which would take up an inordinate amount of blog space. So, on we go.
That night I wound up staying up rather late, drinking with a group at the hostel. I also smoked with the Aussies, which became a sort of before bedtime tradition, if you will. Big thanks to those guys for inviting me along on their smoking sessions every evening.
The next morning I wasn't too terribly happy to wake up after such a painfully small amount of sleep (not to mention my liver was fairly pissed off), but it had to, because I was heading to Sintra.
Sintra is a small town about 40 minutes from Lisbon, and a pretty common day trip. The hostel offers a day tour including a stop at the most western point in continental Europe and of course I had to jump on that wagon!
Sintra has palaces, gardens, historical sights up the wazoo, you name it. The boys tagged along so I was treated to spending the day with B&B, who instantly managed to irritate the hell out of the tour guide. Sorry, João...
Despite the cold and off-and-on rain it was absolutely amazing and we had a pretty great time.
View from the first stop.
After a quick stop at a viewpoint the group split up, and we headed to Pena Palace first.
View from below Pena Palace.
It doesn't look real, does it?
There's a whole ocean theme going on here.
Despite the absurdity of B&B, they are genuine. When we walked along the edge here, Fred found out I was scared of heights, and would double back to make sure I was ok when I fell behind, and actually resisted making fun of me for a few minutes, even though I'm sure it was tempting. Joel did the same when we got into the grottoes at Quinta de Regaleira later that day and I would fall behind because I had stopped to take photos, to make sure I didn't get lost in the pitch black caves.
But before we get too serious:
Back to where we were.
The old Moorish castle below.
Old camera inside the castle.
Shells in the walls.
Part of the ceiling.
The Stag Room.
Next up we got a ride back into town, where we went to a local bakery and ate travesseiros, which are these local pastries filled with egg and almond cream. Sugar overload. Delightful.
Our next sightseeing stop was Quinta de Regaleira, which is this old estate with gardens that are filled with underground grottoes and wells, which was probably one of the coolest things I've ever seen.
Inside the grottoes.
Walking around in the gardens.
Rope lights in the grottoes.
Caves from the outside.
Inside the initiation well. As the name implies, this well was actually never intended for water, but instead the site was used for Masonic initiation rites.
Looking down into the Initiation Well.
Epic rainbow.
Normal antics by the top of the well.
By this time it was around 5pm, so we all piled in the van to go to the western most point in continental Europe for sunset.
As you can see from this picture, it was really fucking windy. And cold. Not just cold; freezing, biting, icy cold punctuated by raging wind.
J looks displeased and I'm hunched over and grinning like a madwoman. Excellent photo.
Swan, Western most point in continental Europe: check.
Once it got dark the group reassembled and we rode home back to Lisbon. Upon arrival the boys were grumpy so I dodged off to my room for a bit before we all met up and went out to dinner. We actually managed to have a serious conversation at dinner, which was impressive. That night I repeated my usual - stay up drinking until far too late, smoke with the Aussie crew - then conked out until rather late the next morning.
Where I woke up with a head cold. Goddammit.
After lying in bed in a puddle of mild self-pity for a couple hours, I got myself out of bed, showered, and decided to go to the aquarium, because there are few things in life that make me happier than aquariums.
I got marginally lost trying to find it but hey, what else is new.
As it turns out Lisbon has a pretty nice little aquarium. It's no Monterey Bay, but I'm spoiled rotten so I can't compare. It gave me the chance to play with my camera a bit more too, which was delightful.
I do think it's pretty neat that the building is literally out in the water.
The big central tank. The building has a large tank in the middle and the exhibits basically circle it.
This guy was just splashing around and having a grand old time.
Just chillin with his butt hanging off the rock. NBD.
Penguin spiral!
I freaking love my zoom lens.
Preening and swimming. Multitasker.
These guys had to be some of the fattest, laziest otters I've ever seen.
Little pink tongue!
They had a special amphibian exhibit going.
As intended, the aquarium was cathartic and I felt a million times better afterwards. In the gift scope I picked up a fleece, which has turned out to be surprisingly warm and good for when I don't want to lug my rain coat around.
That evening I ran into one of the girls I had met the first night and sat with her and a new French friend for dinner. Since Sofiane speaks English, but not 100% fluently, I was able to practice my French with him for the first time since I'd left France which was a fun challenge. I actually do know more than I thought I did! So, the French lessons did turn out to be helpful anyway.
Same story that night. Yes, I'm well aware my liver absolutely hates me and it definitely thinks I should leave Portugal.
The next morning I got up, early, because I had agreed to walk around with Sofiane for the day. I probably spent ten minutes staring at my shoes debating whether or not I wanted to go through with it. But I put my big girl pants on and got myself downstairs, and we spent the morning into the afternoon walking aimlessly through the city.
Archaeological site.
By afternoon we headed back; I had a fair amount of laundry to do and wanted to relax. Laundry took up the entire rest of my day and in the end wasn't even dry when I had to pack up in the morning. For some reason the Europeans use driers that literally take about 2 hours. Who has the time for that?
Dinner at the hostel, drinks with the guys, bed at a shockingly reasonable time. Not a bad way to end my time in Lisbon.
I took the train to Porto the next morning and have been here ever since. I was sad to leave Lisbon but now am equally in love with Porto, so it goes. And today is my last day here before I leave for Croatia, and I definitely will miss this place. Although my liver will be quite relieved.
That's all for now, signing off!
~Swan
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