Lisbon and those Portuguese tarts

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We flew in from Barcelona to Lisbon airport, mid morning on a Tuesday. A reasonably brief 2 hour flight we were probably the only two tourists in the midst of lots of business men and women - all obviously flying in from Spain to Portugal for work.

We hopped the airport shuttle and headed into the centre of Lisbon. We were sad to leave Spain but happy to get to yet another interesting port of call. This was our first time in Portugal for both of us but not our first attempt at trying to get there. Earlier in the year, the Icelandic Volcano 'Eyjafjallajokull' (try and say that over and over) had stopped us from spending a long awaited weekend in Lisbon, instead we both had to go to work on the Monday when we should have been sipping port and eating custard tarts. Never the less we had made it this time around with no volcanic disruptions in sight.

The bus ride in made for lots of initial sight seeing, you might judge the city based on the entrance into it but this is the case for most places when arriving at any airport. Usually, on the ride into any major town or city from an airport you will go through cycles of a city, the ghetto, the mid range business and commercial areas and of course the city centre. First impressions Lisbon, was a mix of the old and new. It had a nice feel to it - especially noticing the beautiful street art that adorned not just a one off wall but entire facades of large buildings.

After a bumpy ride in, we had arrived in the city centre, a piazza style square with lots of cobble stones and touters. We were approached at least 5 to 6 times in the first 15 minutes if we wanted to buy hash or coca. We had been warned that this might happen to us especially as young backpackers but we weren't expecting the touters to be so full on and open about what they were selling. On several occasions they actually showed us the product, an open pocket or a hand full of the stuff. I wasn't sure what the police did around Lisbon,every one of them that we saw, seemed to be enjoying their segways a little too much, every cop had one - pretending they were riding the beat of Sun Set boulevard or something, a very strange sight. Especially when you have people begging for money on the streets and the cops are riding around on these extravagant tosser bikes. At one point we came across a young guy playing the accordion ( a very common and irritating sight in Lisbon) this guy had put a slight spin on his show though. Instead of simply playing his accordion with a hat out front for tourists to drop cash in, he had trained his small Chihuahua to hold a small cup in its mouth.It was a sure money spinner, every tourist that walked by left with a smile on their face and 50 cents poorer, he was too cute - the dog that is.

We had not booked anywhere to stay for the first night, seeing as a gentleman we had met in Bordeaux insisted that we simply rock up and take our pick of the plethora of guesthouses (or Pensaos as they are known in Portugal) that would await us - cheap guesthouses no less. This was in fact... a lie or old news. There were no obvious guesthouses in the main square even though we had been told that this was the place to spot them. When we did come across one they were no less than the prices for a double private than in the rest of Europe - a little disappointing to say the least. Blake left me in the main drag with all of the bags while he went in search of a place for the night. I had read that some of the elders can be fairly traditional and not to wear anything outlandish or revealing as a woman, it was a fairly religious country apparently. Whilst waiting for Blake in, what I thought was moderately dressed attire, I found myself being hissed at a few times by old ladies as they passed by. Not sure what their beef was but I guess my jeans showed too much ankle or something - you cant win em all.

Blake returned with a successful find, a small guest house just two blocks from where I had been waiting named Pensao Norte. It was OK, just OK. It wasn't cheap at 30 Euro a night, the bed was hard as a rock and the toilet was outside the room. In short we weren't enjoying Lisbon for the first few hours especially after following the guidance of the Lonely Planet that had informed us of a few cheap and traditional restaurants in Lisbon.We walked around only to discover that this information was most definatley out of date as nothing was cheap or traditional - pizzas anyone? The first night was a bit of a watershed and we quickly checked out of the Pensao Norte and into Yes Lisbon. The worlds number one rated hostel apparently. We are always a little sketch on hostels that rave that they offer the best of everything but after only spending 2 minutes in the place, our minds were quickly shifted. This hostel was THE best hostel I have ever stayed in and combined, we have slept in a lot of crumby hostels so this came as a very nice surprise. They had new imacs for internet use, a great bar, in house meals 3 courses and 3 beers for 8 euro, private beds in shared dorms, clean everything and a kitchen and laundry. It was full of young people and staff that were enthusiastic about Lisbon and all the good things it had to offer. We quickly booked ourselves in for dinner later that night, dumped our bags and went up to the castle Castelo de São Jorge (big castle on the hill). We decided to walk up and catch a tram car down. The walk was nice and not too difficult when we got up there the view was beautiful - the entirety of Lisbon was in sight, well worth the 7 euors to get in. The castle had been built by Muslims during medieval times - the castle is one of the main historical and touristic sites of Lisbon so was a must on our list.

We wandered down slowly from the castle and bought a bag of fruit from a local store,cheap and good it was what we had needed after all of the scurvy inducing bread we had consumed in France and Spain. We wandered into a port shop and bought a few samples for later - Portugal is famous for producing port.

Later that night we were keen to investigate the local bars so started with a few beers in the hostel with dinner. We were quick to make friends that night, getting acquainted with a Brazilian guy whose name escapes me and a French guy, Mattieu, who we were to head out on the town with. The meal was amazing for hostel food, very traditional and filling. Reasonably sourced, we asked reception about local Fado bars and were directed to a small bar. Fado is a traditional Portuguese music genre which can be traced from the 1820s. Its kind of like Portuguese blues - ver mournful and soulful. The fado house was rammed and full of locals, always a good sign, you could tellit had been there forever with pictures of past fado singers adorning the walls. We bought our first beers and before too long were surrounded by cheerful locals - Portugal's most famous fado singer had entered the bar and people were loving it, she was being snapped from all directions. A most exciting affair for all, especially us, we were in for a treat.

Most of the night was spent outside looking in through the window at the various performers. Mariza, the famous fado singer was now sitting at the back of the room just below our window enjoying the music.To me the music wasn't much but the way people reacted to it was special, these songs I guess are like old folk songs that are sung generation to generation so everyone except me Blake and the Frenchie, knew the words. We were standing outside still looking through the window from the street, purely because it was so crowded in there and we didn't want to step on any of the locals toes - literally. The crowds outside of the Fado house were gathering and Lisbon's nightlife starting up around midnight. We were struggling to hear the music through the window over the Britney spears and gaga echoing in the background from the cafe/clubs on the street. Before too long that window we were looking through was closed on us by no less than Mariza herself. Rude I thought, but understandable.

Happy with our insight into Portuguese tradition, we called it a night and headed back to the hostel for some much needed sleep.

Blakey was feeling the booze the next day, I was surprisingly OK. We needed to get some cash out as we had gone through all but 2 euros the night before. We attempted the first of many ATM's that would reject our card, a worrying feeling when you still have a day and and night to get through before leaving euros behind for a while. Portugal have 6 digit pin codes, UK only 4 we were told to out 2 zeros then the pin - no luck. After trying 3 more ATM's and finally our card being blocked by the oh so helpful Lloyds TSB back in England we found our day was slipping away making skype calls back to our UK banks to sort the problem. Of course crap banks being well, crap banks they could only unblock our card and not shed any light on how to actually use these ATM's - our money would be safer if we stuffed it into our mattresses than in the hands of moron banks, I swear. Finally after the help of a nice Portuguese bank lady we had success and took advantage of it getting out more than the necessary funds.

By this stage we were both starving and hangovers looming, dying of thirst. We hit the first Portuguese cafe we could I ordered a traditional pastry, sort of a sugary doughnut type thing, Blake got a custard tart very traditional to Portugal. I tore mine open only to find the biggest black hair I had ever seen inside any pastry before. It wasn't just sitting in the thing it was baked in to it. I made no fuss, Blake simply handed it to the waiter who gasped and quickly brought another. It took me a while to get through it but I did it, no hairs this time round. Blake's custard tart was also delic, these were the only sweets we allowed ourselves in Portugal after the blow out we had in italy.

We ventured to Belem about a 20 minute tram ride form the centre of Lisbon. It is famed for its massive monastery, 'Mosteiro dos Jerónimos'. Built in 1515, the monastery was a popular house of prayer for seamen leaving or entering the port. Inside the monastery (which looks like most other churches in Europe) there are two large sarcophagus that adorn the sides of the church, one of the tombs houses the remains of famous sailor and navigator, Vasco da Gama. Gama was one of the most successful in the European Age of Discovery and the commander of the first ships to sail directly from Europe to India establishing trade routes between Portugal and India. We wandered around for a bit admiring the scenery but the night before had caught up to both of us so we headed for home via tram.

Boarding the tram, the place became packed - peak hour we thought. Towards the front of the tram, we heard a voice, in English yell "hey, we've got a pick Pocketer. Get your hands off my stuff" An older group of southern Americans had been the target of an attempted pick pocketing ordeal. The pick Pocketer obviously underestimating the agile oldies, was caught out and publicly shamed. It was great. Instead of getting straight off, the thief waited three stops pretending nothing had happened. The American guy she had targeted handed her his empty water bottle and told her to bin it on her way out.... and she did.

The evening was spent mostly chillaxed at the hostel preparing ourselves for the mammoth day of travel we were about to embark on the following day - Lisbon to london- london to Buenos Aires in one hit!

Next Blog - mad 6 hour trip into London.

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