I left work Thursday afternoon to catch the evening flight from Toulouse to Lisbon. My first glimpse of Lisbon was in the air. As it was early evening, the city was already alight. From the air, I was impressed by how white and pristine everything appeared. The port town is severed by the Tagus River with little suspension bridges connecting one side to the other. The thousands of miniature glowing and pallid building in the shadows of early dusk made a beautiful sight and I was eager to see the city from within.
As usual, I had made no plans and had no agenda, so once on the ground; my first task was to find a place to stay. After a quick stop at the tourist information center, I hopped on the next bus to the city center. It was on my way down town that I really began to realize how much I was going to enjoy my weekend in Lisbon. The city is marked by old world street lamps and lanterns whose soft light made me feel like I was starring in a romantic movie. The city sidewalks are all made of limestone and basalt, which is why everything seemed so immaculate in the air. The two stones are cut into little 1-2 inch squares. The contrast of black and white allows for little mosaic designs that cover the entire city and it is simply beautiful. Most of the buildings are also made of limestone and the Arabic influence in the architecture is undeniable. Like in Marrakesh, some of the buildings are covered in tiny painted tiles.
I got off the bus at one of the main city squares, Praça do Rossio. The liveliest square in the city, this is where people stop to sit and relax, or for a drink at the several atmospheric cafes with outdoor sitting (the most popular is the art deco Café Nicola on the western side). On either side of the square there are two baroque fountains, and in the center is a monument measuring 27 meters in height. It consists of a pedestal with marble allegories of Justice, Wisdom, Strength, and Moderation, qualities attributed to Dom Pedro IV, whose statue stands on top of the monument. Once I had oriented myself with the little map that I had received from the information center, I headed towards Bairro Alto, the historic part of Lisbon where I intended to stay. After a bit of searching around, I ended up landing upon a youth hostel. After ringing the doorbell for quite some time, the door was finally opened. I was greeted by a group of Americans who had heard me ringing the doorbell, but did not know was the hostess could be found. They pointed out a cell phone left at the reception desk and suggested that I call the number that they had been given and that I speak in Spanish as the hostesses was not very good in English. I had been told that the Portuguese, very proud of their culture and eager to set themselves apart from Spain, did not like to be spoken to in Spanish. However after a few seconds on the phone, it became clear that Spanish was the best way to go. The languages are similar enough that you can pick up about 50 percent of what they say and they seem to understand just about everything you say. Vera, the hostess, told me that she would be back in about a half an hour and that I would have to wait.
A conversation in Spanish with a Columbian couple visiting Europe for the first time helped to kill the time and to got me back in the Spanish mode; good practice for the rest of the trip. Once Vera had come back to the hostel, I was shown my bad and was pleasantly surprised to find that the price for one night in a hostel with 4 clean bathrooms, a kitchen, a flat screen TV, free internet and a play station was only 12 Euros a night!
Shortly after, I walked back towards Rossio in order to meet George at the hotel where he was staying. George is a good friend of mine from New York, and his coming to Lisbon was the inspiration for my trip. We went to a local restaurant called the Emporio that had been recommended to George. I decided to have the swordfish as I had been told that Lisbon has really good seafood, which did not seem to hard to imagine. The dinner was quite nice, but “nothing to write home about”. I am too spoiled from having spent so many years in France. That night we went out to a couple clubs and lived it up as the obnoxious Americans that did not speak a word of Portuguese.
Friday, January 29
The next morning, I woke up around noon and after a good shower, I headed down to George’s hotel to meet up for the day. George was still in bed and so we had arranged to meet up later that afternoon. I was off to explore Lisbon a bit on my own, a situation that I did not mind one bit. The first thing that I decided to see was the Atlantic Ocean. I figured that if this was the ocean that had inspired Christopher Columbus to discover the world to which my ancestors would eventually move and in which I was born, then it was worth taking a look at. To get there I walked through the giant archway of Rua Augusta leading to the Plaça do Comércio, the square where trade ships used to bring their merchandise in ancient times. From this city square, steps lead down to the water, just where the Tagus River gives way to the sea. On the other side of the river, a giant statue of Jesus with his arms stretched out making the shape of a cross, stood on a pedestal overlooking the entire city of Lisbon. I was reminded of the famous statue in Brazil and wondered which one had been built fist. I would later found out that the statue Cristo Rei (Christ is King) is a replica of the Brazilian statue of Jesus in Rio as is bridge joining the two sides of the river is a replica of the Golden Gate Bridge. Portugal is around 95% Roman Catholic. When I was there, the sun was just slightly behind the statue of Jesus and it made quite a powerful statement. Muito etéreo! 
My next stop was the Archaeological Museum. As I was walking through hilly city, I was impressed by the old time trolley cars that ran up and down the streets. It felt a bit like San Francisco, but with the sounds of Portuguese. The Portuguese language is a strange one. Phonetically, there are a lot of sounds that are not found in other Latin languages. George said that is sounds like drunken Germans trying to speak Spanish. In retrospect, I think that about sums it up. Once I arrived at my destination, I was quite impressed. The archeological museum was located inside the ruins of an ancient church, Iglesia do Carmo. The church was originally built in 1389 by the Grand Connétable Nuno Alvares Pereira. The church faces the castle of São Jorge, a castle built on a hill that hovers over the entire city. In 1755, Lisbon was hit by a tremendous earthquake that nearly destroyed all of the buildings and works of art. People still talk about this earthquake today; 8 on the Richter scale, around 100,000 people died. As the earthquake occurred on a religious holiday and caused so much devastation, it had a profound effect on the culture the philosophical development of the people. One of the few buildings to have survived was this church, although its roof had caved in. I have been in so many cathedrals whose towering columns and high painted ceilings are meant to inspire thoughts of God and the heavens, but it was quite impressive to be in a cathedral whose towering columns lead directly to the heavens. The museum was located in the convent. Like southern France, Portugal has a lot of archeological evidence pointing to the practices and living circumstances of early man. As I was looking at their pottery, combs, earrings and early tools, I was reminded of the ancient mummies that I had seen in Argentina and I could not help but ask what Gauguin had asked so many years ago: Where do we come from? Where are we? Where are we going? 
From there, I decided to walk up to the big park, Parque Eduardo VII. I was hoping that the parks in Portugal would be as impressive as the ones in Spain. On the way I passed through the Estação do Rossio. On the square, there is what looks like a giant palace known as Restauradores. Like its name suggests, the building is entirely dedicated to fine dining; not too shabby. From there, I hiked slightly uphill still with the objective of reaching the park. I continued to walk over hundreds of black and white mosaics, as the running water from terraced fountains accompanied me on either side. At the top of each fountain, Poseidon provided the water’s source via an urn whose contents never ran out. Once I had finally reached the park, I was a bit disappointed. The park mainly consisted of a grass lawn, nothing to rival the parks of Spain. However, as it was located fairly high up, I was afforded an incredible view of the city. 
I then went back to meet George back at his hotel. George and I decided that we would visit the castle of Saint George (Castelo de São Jorge), as this was most befitting. The oldest parts of the castle date back to the 6th century, when it was fortified by the Romans, Visigoths, and eventually the Moors. It served as a Moorish royal residence until Portugal's first king Afonso Henriques captured it in 1147 with the help of northern European crusaders on their way to the Holy Land. It was then dedicated to St. George, the patron saint of England, commemorating the Anglo-Portuguese pact dating from 1371, and became the royal palace until another one (that was destroyed in the Great Earthquake) was built in today's place of commerce. The castle towers over the entire city and we arrived just as the sun was setting over the water. Lisbon is a beautiful town not only from within its streets, but also from afar.
That night, we went to dinner with some Portuguese guys that were friends of George. I asked them, “What is the most traditional thing on the menu?” They all agreed on the same dish, a breaded sausage made from beef instead of pork, served on a baked potato with a small green salad. After trying it, I thought, “Well, I guess that is why Portugal is not really known for its food!” However, if the food was not good, the people made up for it in hospitality and kindness; the complete opposite of France! Everyone was so friendly. They insisted on showing us the Lisbon night life. Almost all of the bars clubs are located in little old world stores that could not sit more than ten or fifteen people. The result is that everyone grabs there drink and just hangs out in the narrow streets. We had a good time.
Saturday, January 12
The next morning, I headed over to pick up George and we had a fish sandwich before heading off the botanical gardens, Jardin Botânico. Because of the many hills in Lisbon, there are a lot great places to check at the view and the botanical gardens where no exception. The gardens were structured with limestone steps that led from on terrace to the other. Laid out between 1858 and 1873, it was once considered the best botanical garden in Southern Europe. Today, although showing some clear signs of neglect, it still has one of the largest collections of subtropical vegetation in Europe. Its dense vegetation and exotic plants make it one of the most calming spots in the city.
From there we went to the city’s giant elevator. The elevator is next to the ruins of the old church and takes you up to the top of the city’s skyline. This is one of the city's best-loved landmarks and is known as Santa Justa. This extraordinary structure was built at the turn of the century by the Portugal-born French architect Raoul de Mesnier du Ponsard (an apprentice of Gustave Eiffel, explaining the structure's similarities to Paris' Eiffel Tower). It was built to connect downtown to Bairro Alto; the lowest and highest points of the city. Originally powered by steam, it is 147ft high and remains an interesting example of post-Eiffel iron architecture. The top of the Neo-Gothic tower, reached via a spiral staircase, has a cafe with splendid views of the city, including over Rossio Square, the castle and the river.
From there we went to a few shops and just sat in a couple of cafés talking about everything and nothing at all. Since I have been living in France, this has become of my favorite pastimes.
As night began to fall, George had gone back to the hotel and I walked up to Graça, one of the oldest churches in Lisbon, located near the castle. As I walked in, I realized that they were having mass. I sat down and listened although I could only make out about twenty-five percent of what was being said. I then walked back to my hostel, climbing up and down the narrow steps and streets all carved in intricate designs, illuminated by the glowing old world street lamps. This was my last night in the beautiful city of Lisbon.
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