Last Day in Lisboa

The last day in A Cidade and it feels like a good time to get movin’, sleep be damned. It’s Saturday and suddenly the streets are swollen with tourists.

Lost in translation

A brisk morning walk is just the thing to get the day started. Passing a little pasteleria, I poke in and order a croissant.

“Uma Croissant, por favor”

He grabs a croissant and puts it on a plate

“No, for takeaway”

Looks confused… “Four?”

No, uma…. but for takeaway.

“but four?”

The Mercado de Santa Clara and what maps don’t tell you

We Uber down to the train station where I’ve booked tickets for our journey to Porto, happening 3 hours hence. The convenient coin-op luggage storage is awesome… and took the combined might of both our intellects to figure it out, but now we’re footloose and fancy-free for some shopping!

I had planned for us to visit the Mercado de Santa Clara during this free time, a sort of little swap meet which roughly appeared to be adjacent to the station. Hmm. I don’t see it from here… must be just up that little hill around the bend.

Little hill? This is some serious vert! We round the bend and… nothing. Well shucks, maybe it’s just around that corner up there. The map promised me it was just a little stroll away. It said nothing about the thousand-foot elevation gain. We hike and hike, and my reassurances that we are almost there have lost all credibility by now…

We persevere and are rewarded with… a pile of worthless crap and dingy old tchotchkes laid out on tarps. Not even garage sale worthy… this is the famous Mercado?

No, as we learn, it will take wending around a giant church and another few hundred feet up to gain that intel. The higher we climb, the better the quality of stuff, and soon we’re fascinated with the sea of memorabilia on display. Stasia finds something we love. It’s a bin of large format (16×20) old black and white photos from Portugal’s roaring 20’s. Very theatrical and perfect for us.

I get that special ego boost when the seller accepts my 3-for-the-price-of-2 haggle and we’re off to celebrate over an exceptional lunch (Stasia says it so far is the best meal we’ve had).

While we eat, 2 fellows from Argentina, busking their way across the country, play next to the outdoor patio we’re sitting in – one plays guitar, the other trombone, and both sing. Their rendition of Aye Mama, Que Paso is delightful! Our yummy codfish cake, vegetable soup, rice, and beans are lovingly serenaded directly into our digestive tracts.

On the way back down, we stop to marvel at yet another incredible monument of man’s quest for meaning, eternal life, and control. These cathedrals, peppered all over the place, are never small or charming. They loom, dominate, and (forgive the expression) lord over even the most austere government edifice. I reflect on Ken Follet’s excellent Pillars of the Earth and marvel at the ingenuity (and no small amount of human misery) that went into erecting such a thing.

Invicta – aka – Porto

The train ride to Porto is comfy and efficient; Europe really knows its country-wide public transport. Stasia and I blog, read, compare photos, and look out the windows as the beautiful and at times ruinous countryside whizzes by.

We arrive in Porto and bada-boom – the driver pulls up. You gotta love those Ubers – a couple swipes on the phone and moments later we’re getting whisked up and up and up to our place. I should mention that so far, it appears all of Lisbon and Porto have been built on top of undulating hills. This came in handy for the many wars that have been visited upon them. Porto’s nickname Invicta (invincible) comes from its resilience during the 19th-century civil war. Personally, I am a little excited about the elevation – going to get some quality leg training for an upcoming mountain race I’ve signed up for.

Our flat is the 4th story (again) above a lovely confeitaria (bakery) and the owner gets someone to watch the register while he takes us up. It’s neat that the flights up to our rooms, a gloriously lacquered wooden staircase, is literally right there in the bakery and we’re told we can come down and have breakfast on the house each morning. Fantastic! I don’t mind the absence of an elevator but just for the record, it’s no joke to haul a 60# suitcase up with one arm and not bang up the nicely finished steps.

The flat itself is beautiful! An expansive wooden floored modern space in what must be a half-millennia-old stone building. The pièce de résistance is the set of old French doors which open up to a medieval view of the surrounds – and looking at the way they cram the houses together (at odd angles), we’re reminded of our art deco guide’s observation that the Portuguese don’t bother with right angles. Everything is a builder’s nightmare of custom cuts and whatever it takes methodology.

It’s starting to rain so we stay in, eat some leftovers and watch an episode of 8 out of 10 cats does countdown. There will be sleep this night, but nothing is for free. Stay tuned….