Eight years after our first trip here, we are revisiting some of our favorite places in Iberia. Lisbon is an exotic (in the sense of alien) version of San Francisco, built on hills, with a Golden Gate bridge spanning the river, a population packed cheek-by-jowl into a small urban area, a tourist zone down by the water, an upscale shopping district up the hill, a skid row, and even cable cars. It is at once familiar and foreign. The latter quality comes from the language, of course (we barely understand Portuguese), from the centuries-long history (Neolithic Iberians, Indo-European Celts, Phoenicians, Romans, Visigoths, Moors, reconquering 12th-century Christians, a trans-Atlantic empire into the 18th century, a 20th-century dictatorship, and so into the modern Eurozone), and from the struggle to expand beyond its fishing and agricultural economy into something more enriching and sustainable (there is no Silicon Valley in Portugal). It is a charming city, if a bit of a backwater as it struggles to emerge from the recent economic crisis.
Lisbon also is just emerging from winter. Plum trees are in bloom, but not much else, and the weather is cool and damp. A light drizzle on Friday evening prompted us to purchase an umbrella, and though it hasn’t rained since, there is a good possibility that we will find use for it again as the trip unfolds. And if we encounter cold temperatures again, we both have new Portuguese hats from a hat store downtown that Jerome had researched prior to arrival.
We have had sunshine if cool temps for the last two days, and we have renewed our familiarity with the city while seeking out new experiences and a more nuanced understanding. I can’t estimate how many kilometers we have walked. We discovered a Chinese district abutting an area dominated by Indian stores and restaurants, bordered by a few blocks of Arab establishments. All this independent of the famed Alfama Jewish quarter, the Baixa business district, the Chiado shopping district, the Bairro Alto with its pubs and restaurants. Lisbon is nothing if not a typical crossroads city, and the street life is as colorful and as varied as the population, from mimes down in the Rua Augusta to strains of fado heard through open windows.
Ah, fado. This quintessential Portuguese music is unique, a mature solo voice against one or two twelve-steel-string guitars played softly in counterbalance, pouring out poetry in songs that express a longing that cuts across cultures. I can only rarely understand an actual word, but the music can bring tears to my eyes in a line or two. We had two unforgettable fado experiences this trip, the first at a tiny local bar a couple of blocks from our hotel that has a tradition of fado sessions on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. We spent perhaps an hour there yesterday, listening to three singers who were clearly local favorites perform songs that were clearly well known. Lots of respectful, low humming along. An informal setting, but a professional level of performance. Then today we went to the Museo do Fado, a very well designed public museum that uses audiovisual techniques to simply but very effectively trace the history and aesthetics of the art form, with many examples available to listen to. We came away with a new CD by a young woman who performs in the traditional manner.
We bought public transit passes for our three days here, and have had fun just hopping on and off of busses and trams whenever it seemed appropriate. This morning we took a ferry across the river to Cacilhas, where many of the non-professional workers of Lisbon live. Other than tourist-oriented restaurants and tchotchke shops right at the ferry landing, we saw nothing of interest, and headed back to Lisbon, admiring the view of the city.
Meals have been primarily grilled fish with potatoes and greens (or a green salad), all fresh and delicious. Exceptions have included feijoada (a typical bean stew), shredded roast duck combined with rice and sort of pressed into a patty, and some excellent soups of chick peas and vegetables. Simple food, well prepared, with simple but good Portuguese wines. Last night, on a whim, we changed pace with dinner at Bistro Gato Pardo (Brown Cat Bistro), a pocketbook of a place (four tables), offering more international nouveau style cuisine. Jerome had pork cutlets in a peppercorn sauce, I had pasta in a light lemon sauce, and the salad was much more complex than the normal Portuguese lettuce, tomato, and onion, however delicious the latter always is. Tonight we ended our stay in Lisbon with a more traditional dinner, though Jerome’s bacalau (cod) was tossed shredded with egg, onion, and cilantro on a bed of lettuce, and my duck breast was in a delicious honey and port sauce.
Tomorrow morning, after breakfasting on the top floor of our hotel with its breathtaking view over the city, we will board a train for the four-hour ride south through Faro to Tavira on the Algarve coast. More adventures to come!
