We landed in Lisbon, Portugal around noon on Friday and took the bus into the city. From there we began an adventurous walk to find our hotel. Our hangover hit us as we struggled to translate the map, walking uphill in the afternoon sun while carrying all of our bags. Stopping to occasionally ask for directions, we encountered our first real language barrier. Although written Portuguese appears very similar to Spanish, it sounds like a mixture of French and German when spoken. We would ask for help once in Spanish and again in English, giving them the choice of the two languages they had the best chance of knowing. Unfortunately, every Portuguese person we encountered would blindside us by ignoring our obvious language problems, and would ramble at a mile-a-minute speed in Portuguese, not a word of which registered with us. And to exacerbate the situation, each Portuguese guide person had a friend with they would inevitably start arguing between themselves in front of us as to which direction was the best. I am also pretty positive that 40% of the people we talked to were either drunk or were cursed with the worse speech impediment possible. From the translations we were able to muster, we gathered that our hotel was in a very bad area, with prostitutes, and thieves. Eager to encounter such an elegant neighborhood, we trotted off in the direction in which the advice-giving truck driver had pointed. Twenty minutes later we arrive in said shady neighborhood and dropped off our belongings in a surprisingly quaint and clean small hotel room. Then off we went into the city.
We walked down the long sloping hill toward the town center. We crossed through a few different plazas which were nice open areas surrounding a fountain or sculpture. All of the main streets were made of small black and white stones. They are intricately organized into detailed designs repeated throughout the plaza and streets. Off the main streets, the streets became small narrow alleys between apartment buildings, and often they were just narrow cement staircases winding up the hills between the buildings, only wide enough for maybe two people at a time. With none of the streets marked, and the narrow stairs the only path to the stop, it took us a good amount of time to leisurely climb our way to to the top of the hill, where we came upon the castle, Castle of São Jorge. It is located in the highest hill of the historic center of the city.
We spent time in the Feira da Ladra, or Theive's Maret, which is Lisbon's best known flea market. Literally translating "Theive's Market" because it is said when your watch or purse gets stolen, it will inevitably show up here to be sold by the local hustlers and gypsy crowd. It has taken place every Tuesday and Saturday since 1881 on the edge of Alfama on the Campo de Santa Clara near the Igreja de Sao Vicente de Fora. Most of the professional traders on the flea market have meanwhile adapted themselves and their wares primarily to tourists, so a lucky bargain is unlikely
to be found. Amateur traders can only be found in a small area of the market. The amateur ones typically have a blanket in front of them covered with the widest assortment of items that it is nearly impossible to take them seriously. One example included: forks, books, buttons, dishes, cell phone chargers, mismatched shoes, used underwear, wallets, nick-nacks and children's toys, and keys.
One of my favorite parts was the small colorful tiles that covered all of the buildings, called azulejos. Wherever one goes in Portugal, azulejos are to be found inside and outside churches, palaces, ordinary houses and even train stations or subway stations. They constitute a major aspect of Portuguese architecture as they are applied on walls, floors and even ceilings. They were not only used as an ornamental art form, but also had a specific functional capacity like temperature control at homes. Many azulejos chronicle major historical and cultural aspects of Portuguese history. The art was introduced to Portugal, via Spain, by the Moors, who had learned the craft from the Persians. The word azulejo is derived from the Arabic word Zellige, meaning "polished stone". The Portuguese adopted the Moorish tradition of horror vacui ('fear of empty spaces') and covered the walls completely with azulejos.
We saw a few other plazas and monuments, although the city seemed to disappoint me. It was like we were walking around trying to find the Lisbon that everyone talks about. Yes we saw the beach, the narrow winding streets and small stair alleys between the houses climbing up the hills, but it seemed eerie that something was missing. There were not many young people (or many people at all for that matter) in the streets, there weren't many sites to see, the city was poorly taken care of an in a much more distressed economic state than I expected. A weird side note was that we noticed more physically handicapped people that weekend than I typically see in an entire year at home. For instance, within the first couple hours in Lisbon, we saw FIVE blind people! I am not sure if they just have a really poor healthcare (but they are in the EU so I would assume this has all been brought up to their standards) or if it is because people are unable to afford medical attention at all? But I have never even seen that much physical deformity in a developing country. It was a very bizarre trip, and needless to say, we stopped drinking the water there just as a precaution.
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