Another train another tribute to the city I leave behind. This time, I’m setting out from Portugal on a night train just like the one on which I arrived. It will be three straight days of travelling though, from Lisbon to Hendaye to Paris to Marseille to Nice, with unbearably long layovers in between. Should be an adventure though!
At least I’m well rested from my lovely time in Lisbon. Thanks to the overnight train, I arrived bright and early Tuesday morning before the hostel’s daily pancake breakfast had even begun. The manager was up at least, and being the only other person in the hostel awake, we got to chatting. It turns out the hostel just opened last week, taking over for a previous hostel that, while popular, had some trouble with the landlords. Considering it was called the G-Spot hostel, and some of the rooms still showed signs of names like “Morning Wood,” “Rusty Trombone,” and “The Tea Bag Room,” I’m not really surprised, though I did appreciate the sign remaining above the bathroom mirror proclaiming, “You look really damn beautiful.”
Under new management, however, the place had been cleaned up in many ways. Will, a New York real estate broker originally from Philidelphia, had tired of corporate life and decided to go in with some friends and buy the hostel which they have since turned in to one of my favorites so far. The entire vibe is relaxed and friendly without becoming lazy or deviant, the rooms, toilets, and common areas are clean, and as previously mentioned, there’s a pancake breakfast every morning. So I joined the hostel for a quick meal, checked in, brushed my teeth, and somehow became defacto navigator for a group from the hostel going to the walking tour I’d planned to do.
We only just made it because check in took longer than expected, but make it we did. Our guide, Pedro, led us around from place to place, explaining some of Lisbon’s history, but more about its people and culture. It was nice, but did leave me wanting to the point that I wasn’t sure I would return for the later tour through a different neighborhood. It turns out that wouldn’t end up being much of a choice.
A couple of my new friends from the hostel had a strategy for walking tours, that strategy being that they always asked the tour guides for a lunch recommendation after and usually ended up being invited to tag along some place local and amazing. Lisbon was no exception.
Thus we found ourselves winding through the streets of downtown Lisbon to a tiny little hole in the wall that’s whitewashed vaulted ceilings made me think it might once have been a church. And then came the food. Plate after plate of food. Because it was an all you can eat all you can drink “menu of the day.” There were four courses, wine and beer, and a little cup of espresso for everyone after. I couldn’t eat everything because much of it was meat, but what I could was delicious, and it just kept coming.
The smorgasbord took so long that Pedro had to leave halfway through. Turns out he was leading that second tour I’d been thinking about. I, however, was not about to miss the ending of the show. Because it was really enough food that it might as well have been a show. So well all keep eating and chatting and laughing until the restaurant started to clear out for siesta and we moved to pay our more than reasonable bill.
Even in the case of not taking the walking tour, I had intended to explore the neighborhood where it took place after lunch, but it being my first day I decided making friends was more important. We made our leisurely way back to the hostel, stopping a few places so the less budget conscious could shop, before I finally crashed into a lovely siesta of my own. When I woke up, it was no longer early enough to see any sights, but some of those same friends from the walking tour were going out for the night, so I decided to tag along.
We started at a local kiosk, an open air cafe based out of a little pavilion on the street. They were showing the World Cup on a big screen projector and Brazil was playing, so it couldn’t be missed. After the game, we headed up to Barrio Alto, the nightlife district of Lisbon known for having the highest concentration of bars in the world. In reality, it’s a collection of single room holes in the wall, and as a result the party itself is mostly in the street. Not being a nightlife person myself, it was a lot more fun than I thought it would be. There was plenty of great live music, and I got to dance a bit with a gay Frenchman from Avignon.
At least I’m well rested from my lovely time in Lisbon. Thanks to the overnight train, I arrived bright and early Tuesday morning before the hostel’s daily pancake breakfast had even begun. The manager was up at least, and being the only other person in the hostel awake, we got to chatting. It turns out the hostel just opened last week, taking over for a previous hostel that, while popular, had some trouble with the landlords. Considering it was called the G-Spot hostel, and some of the rooms still showed signs of names like “Morning Wood,” “Rusty Trombone,” and “The Tea Bag Room,” I’m not really surprised, though I did appreciate the sign remaining above the bathroom mirror proclaiming, “You look really damn beautiful.”
Under new management, however, the place had been cleaned up in many ways. Will, a New York real estate broker originally from Philidelphia, had tired of corporate life and decided to go in with some friends and buy the hostel which they have since turned in to one of my favorites so far. The entire vibe is relaxed and friendly without becoming lazy or deviant, the rooms, toilets, and common areas are clean, and as previously mentioned, there’s a pancake breakfast every morning. So I joined the hostel for a quick meal, checked in, brushed my teeth, and somehow became defacto navigator for a group from the hostel going to the walking tour I’d planned to do.
We only just made it because check in took longer than expected, but make it we did. Our guide, Pedro, led us around from place to place, explaining some of Lisbon’s history, but more about its people and culture. It was nice, but did leave me wanting to the point that I wasn’t sure I would return for the later tour through a different neighborhood. It turns out that wouldn’t end up being much of a choice.
A couple of my new friends from the hostel had a strategy for walking tours, that strategy being that they always asked the tour guides for a lunch recommendation after and usually ended up being invited to tag along some place local and amazing. Lisbon was no exception.
Thus we found ourselves winding through the streets of downtown Lisbon to a tiny little hole in the wall that’s whitewashed vaulted ceilings made me think it might once have been a church. And then came the food. Plate after plate of food. Because it was an all you can eat all you can drink “menu of the day.” There were four courses, wine and beer, and a little cup of espresso for everyone after. I couldn’t eat everything because much of it was meat, but what I could was delicious, and it just kept coming.
The smorgasbord took so long that Pedro had to leave halfway through. Turns out he was leading that second tour I’d been thinking about. I, however, was not about to miss the ending of the show. Because it was really enough food that it might as well have been a show. So well all keep eating and chatting and laughing until the restaurant started to clear out for siesta and we moved to pay our more than reasonable bill.
Even in the case of not taking the walking tour, I had intended to explore the neighborhood where it took place after lunch, but it being my first day I decided making friends was more important. We made our leisurely way back to the hostel, stopping a few places so the less budget conscious could shop, before I finally crashed into a lovely siesta of my own. When I woke up, it was no longer early enough to see any sights, but some of those same friends from the walking tour were going out for the night, so I decided to tag along.
We started at a local kiosk, an open air cafe based out of a little pavilion on the street. They were showing the World Cup on a big screen projector and Brazil was playing, so it couldn’t be missed. After the game, we headed up to Barrio Alto, the nightlife district of Lisbon known for having the highest concentration of bars in the world. In reality, it’s a collection of single room holes in the wall, and as a result the party itself is mostly in the street. Not being a nightlife person myself, it was a lot more fun than I thought it would be. There was plenty of great live music, and I got to dance a bit with a gay Frenchman from Avignon.
As expected, however, we got back a bit late, so I took the next morning to sleep in but found myself up around nine regardless. That meant pancakes again and then setting out to see the sights I’d missed the day before. First up was Sao Jorge Castle, up on the highest hill overlooking the city. Besides the view, it also had a nicely curated museum on ancient daily life. The only downside was that I seemed eternally stuck either just in front of or just behind a family of ‘ugly Americans.’ My first saw them as the father was holding up the little boy so his mother could take a picture of him spanking a nude statue and it only got worse from there. At least I had no urge to correct them when they started assuming all sorts of wrong information about the fortifications.
The castle was followed by a visit to Lisbon Cathedral and then Casa dos Bicos, an architecturally interesting house turned exhibition gallery. I didn’t go in to the exhibition, I only wanted to see the front, but then that put me right on the road towards the part of town housing the Fado Museum.
Fado is a type of popular Portuguese folk music, played on the Spanish/Portuguese guitar and usually accompanied by bawdy or subversive lyrics. The museum itself wasn’t big, but it came with a lovely audio guide that I found both interesting and informative, even if I spent most of the visit standing against a wall listening because there wasn’t much to see.
My last stop on Wednesday was the National Pantheon, a church turned monument to the heroes of the Portuguese nation, much like its inspiration in Paris. I don’t know as many famous Portuguese as I do French, but it was interesting to see the cenotaph to Vasco de Gama and read a bit about the old Portuguese political features. Note: Unlike the French, the Portuguese are much more likely to provide English translations.
After all of this, I was out a bit later than I had intended, but was still back to the hostel in time for dinner. They serve that too for a small fee, though I never partook - two nights because it wasn’t vegetarian and one because I was soooo full. It looked like the other guests were gearing up for another night out, so I took the opportunity to slip off to my room and study a bit for my Foreign Service Exam before calling it an early night.
I was determined to make the next night an early one as well, but also the day shorter and less exertion filled. Again I tried to sleep in, and again I was up at a reasonable time, but this time after breakfast I took a train out to Belem, a suburb of Lisbon that I am convinced means land of museums. I wasn’t there for museums, but you could stand in just about any spot and count near a dozen in your line of sight. It was ridiculous. There was the usual Archaeological Museum and a Science Museum, but also museum for marinas and rail cars and presidents and coaches and whatever else you could possibly think up.
I wasn’t there for the museums though. I went first to Jeronimos Monastery, the national pantheon before the Pantheon, and then on to the old military fortress of Belem Tower. Both were lovely, though I found myself particularly taken with the monastery. It was built in a style called Mauneline that I found simply breathtaking, all sweeping twisted arches full of elegance and grace. I can’t pinpoint what was so much more beautiful about it than other monasteries I’ve seen, but I definitely think it was my favorite.
Apparently I missed the real draw of Belem, the best tart shop in all of Europe. A guy at the hostel told me about it later that night. I’m not terribly fussed though, because instead of taking the train back, I decided to have an adventure and take the bus. Public transport is often my favorite part about visiting a new country. It’s where you see how the people really live. Metros are a part of that, but buses even more so. Because I got on further down by the tower and not the monastery though, I got a seat before all the terrified tourists got on clutching their bags and complaining about the crowding.
It was an interesting ride into town on which I decided when we got to the city center I was going to find some cod for late lunch/early dinner. Cod is a specialty of the Portuguese, living on the ocean and all, and I wasn’t disappointed. Apart from the bones inside and the onions and olives on top, the “Portuguese style” cod was almost exactly like British fish & chips, only better. The chips were sliced round ways instead of into sticks, but it was funny how many parallels could be drawn.
I went back to the hostel stuffed, studied a bit, called my mother to check in, and had another early night because the next morning was…. dun dun dun! The Foreign Service Exam.
Nevertheless, more interesting than the Foreign Service Exam, I think, is the morning that preceded it. I had every intention of waking up early, having a good breakfast, and taking the metro up to the Embassy. The first part of this plan went according the plan. Even the third part went out without a hitch. But the breakfast part, well… I woke up to find the kitchen locked, and no one around to fix that for me. I don’t do well without breakfast though, and I refused to let such a small thing ruin my test morning. So I took a step back, though about my options, and ended up climbing through the open kitchen window from the courtyard. I must have looked like a crazy person but, hey, no one was awake to see me.
The test, for those who haven’t heard, went alright. I am not certain I passed, but neither am I certain I failed, so we will just have to wait for the results in three to five weeks. Oddly enough, I was exceedingly nervous right up until I walked onto Embassy grounds, and then again when I walked off, but never while I was on the premises. Speaking of premises, it was interesting to see another Embassy. Lisbon has far more beautiful facilities than I had even dreamed of in Ankara. I was a bit starstruck to say the least. It still had that same Embassy feel though that I love so much.
After the test I decided to take the long way home, stopping by the Gulbenkian Museum to admire the international art collection of an old oil magnate. The museum was followed by cod, again. This time with cream, which let me say was even better. Like… I may be in love, and have a new favorite food. To Mom: It’s called Bacalhau com Natas if you want to look it up. <3 It wasn’t just the fish that made the lunch amazing though.
I stopped in again for the Menu do Dia, menu of the day usually including a drink, starter and/or dessert, and a final shot of espresso. It’s not unlimited in most places, but I still got my cod, a glass of wine, a fruit salad, and an espresso for €6.50. Thanks to the relaxed nature of Portuguese service, however, and my unwillingness to hurry them along, I sat there for a good three hours reading on my phone because I hadn’t brought my Kindle to the Embassy. It gave me a chance to digest between courses though, so I’m grateful.
After lunch I stopped to buy snacks for my overnight train, got terribly lost for about forty minutes, and eventually made it back to the hostel, where I finished packing up, officially checked out, and then sat around making phone calls until it was time to go.
I’m going to miss Lisbon, I think. Of all the places I’ve been it has had the friendliest people by far, and not just in the hostel. Even as a non-conversant tourist, I never felt like a burden to the Portuguese. Perhaps it’s because they get fewer tourists, but whatever the reason, Portugal is definitely on my list to visit again. I think I’ll be happy to visit anywhere after this long non-visiting trip ahead though. It looks like my coach is situated right behind the smoking coach, and the fumes that waft in when the door opens and closes are already starting to make me sick. Alas, hopefully I’ll be able to sleep soon and then maybe I won’t even notice. Goodnight all!
The castle was followed by a visit to Lisbon Cathedral and then Casa dos Bicos, an architecturally interesting house turned exhibition gallery. I didn’t go in to the exhibition, I only wanted to see the front, but then that put me right on the road towards the part of town housing the Fado Museum.
Fado is a type of popular Portuguese folk music, played on the Spanish/Portuguese guitar and usually accompanied by bawdy or subversive lyrics. The museum itself wasn’t big, but it came with a lovely audio guide that I found both interesting and informative, even if I spent most of the visit standing against a wall listening because there wasn’t much to see.
My last stop on Wednesday was the National Pantheon, a church turned monument to the heroes of the Portuguese nation, much like its inspiration in Paris. I don’t know as many famous Portuguese as I do French, but it was interesting to see the cenotaph to Vasco de Gama and read a bit about the old Portuguese political features. Note: Unlike the French, the Portuguese are much more likely to provide English translations.
After all of this, I was out a bit later than I had intended, but was still back to the hostel in time for dinner. They serve that too for a small fee, though I never partook - two nights because it wasn’t vegetarian and one because I was soooo full. It looked like the other guests were gearing up for another night out, so I took the opportunity to slip off to my room and study a bit for my Foreign Service Exam before calling it an early night.
I was determined to make the next night an early one as well, but also the day shorter and less exertion filled. Again I tried to sleep in, and again I was up at a reasonable time, but this time after breakfast I took a train out to Belem, a suburb of Lisbon that I am convinced means land of museums. I wasn’t there for museums, but you could stand in just about any spot and count near a dozen in your line of sight. It was ridiculous. There was the usual Archaeological Museum and a Science Museum, but also museum for marinas and rail cars and presidents and coaches and whatever else you could possibly think up.
I wasn’t there for the museums though. I went first to Jeronimos Monastery, the national pantheon before the Pantheon, and then on to the old military fortress of Belem Tower. Both were lovely, though I found myself particularly taken with the monastery. It was built in a style called Mauneline that I found simply breathtaking, all sweeping twisted arches full of elegance and grace. I can’t pinpoint what was so much more beautiful about it than other monasteries I’ve seen, but I definitely think it was my favorite.
Apparently I missed the real draw of Belem, the best tart shop in all of Europe. A guy at the hostel told me about it later that night. I’m not terribly fussed though, because instead of taking the train back, I decided to have an adventure and take the bus. Public transport is often my favorite part about visiting a new country. It’s where you see how the people really live. Metros are a part of that, but buses even more so. Because I got on further down by the tower and not the monastery though, I got a seat before all the terrified tourists got on clutching their bags and complaining about the crowding.
It was an interesting ride into town on which I decided when we got to the city center I was going to find some cod for late lunch/early dinner. Cod is a specialty of the Portuguese, living on the ocean and all, and I wasn’t disappointed. Apart from the bones inside and the onions and olives on top, the “Portuguese style” cod was almost exactly like British fish & chips, only better. The chips were sliced round ways instead of into sticks, but it was funny how many parallels could be drawn.
I went back to the hostel stuffed, studied a bit, called my mother to check in, and had another early night because the next morning was…. dun dun dun! The Foreign Service Exam.
Nevertheless, more interesting than the Foreign Service Exam, I think, is the morning that preceded it. I had every intention of waking up early, having a good breakfast, and taking the metro up to the Embassy. The first part of this plan went according the plan. Even the third part went out without a hitch. But the breakfast part, well… I woke up to find the kitchen locked, and no one around to fix that for me. I don’t do well without breakfast though, and I refused to let such a small thing ruin my test morning. So I took a step back, though about my options, and ended up climbing through the open kitchen window from the courtyard. I must have looked like a crazy person but, hey, no one was awake to see me.
The test, for those who haven’t heard, went alright. I am not certain I passed, but neither am I certain I failed, so we will just have to wait for the results in three to five weeks. Oddly enough, I was exceedingly nervous right up until I walked onto Embassy grounds, and then again when I walked off, but never while I was on the premises. Speaking of premises, it was interesting to see another Embassy. Lisbon has far more beautiful facilities than I had even dreamed of in Ankara. I was a bit starstruck to say the least. It still had that same Embassy feel though that I love so much.
After the test I decided to take the long way home, stopping by the Gulbenkian Museum to admire the international art collection of an old oil magnate. The museum was followed by cod, again. This time with cream, which let me say was even better. Like… I may be in love, and have a new favorite food. To Mom: It’s called Bacalhau com Natas if you want to look it up. <3 It wasn’t just the fish that made the lunch amazing though.
I stopped in again for the Menu do Dia, menu of the day usually including a drink, starter and/or dessert, and a final shot of espresso. It’s not unlimited in most places, but I still got my cod, a glass of wine, a fruit salad, and an espresso for €6.50. Thanks to the relaxed nature of Portuguese service, however, and my unwillingness to hurry them along, I sat there for a good three hours reading on my phone because I hadn’t brought my Kindle to the Embassy. It gave me a chance to digest between courses though, so I’m grateful.
After lunch I stopped to buy snacks for my overnight train, got terribly lost for about forty minutes, and eventually made it back to the hostel, where I finished packing up, officially checked out, and then sat around making phone calls until it was time to go.
I’m going to miss Lisbon, I think. Of all the places I’ve been it has had the friendliest people by far, and not just in the hostel. Even as a non-conversant tourist, I never felt like a burden to the Portuguese. Perhaps it’s because they get fewer tourists, but whatever the reason, Portugal is definitely on my list to visit again. I think I’ll be happy to visit anywhere after this long non-visiting trip ahead though. It looks like my coach is situated right behind the smoking coach, and the fumes that waft in when the door opens and closes are already starting to make me sick. Alas, hopefully I’ll be able to sleep soon and then maybe I won’t even notice. Goodnight all!
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