Lisbon

Three days after arriving in Spain (to read about my entire Christmas vacay head over to my previous post) my tense little family jetted off to Lisbon. If I were to pick a word about how I feel about Portugal, it is love. Amazing food, beautiful sights, interesting history, lovely people, sexy people…

I have come to deduce that the true measure of how nice a populations is in direct relation to how much they honk when tourists slowly get out of their Ubers. I am here to tell you, me and my slow moving family were not honked at once.

Portugal lacks a the pretension that you often find in Western European countries and their people (not naming names but you know who you are) while still evoking that royal character. The Mediterranean country is decorated with beautifully painted buildings in every pastel color you could imagine, charming trams, and palm trees.

We stayed at a lovely house on a hill about a 10 minute drive from downtown that is dubbed the Presidential House, though it is owned by Lisbon’s former mayor. The best part of this Airbnb? It came with a dog. A very sweet dog named Bigotes (Mustache) that I stupidly forgot to take a picture of. A very sweet dog that ran away from the house not once, causing a huge screaming match between me and my father as I ran down the street chasing him, but twice. The second time he ran out he went to the neighbors and sliced his paw open on some broken glass, the poor guy.

I happened to be lucky enough to be in this beautiful city at the same time as one of my best friends from high school, Orlando, who I insisted on getting drunk with after said screaming match with my father. Night life in Lisbon did not disappoint. The night started off strong, with a bar that sold a wide array of shots, for the healthy price of 1 Euro each. We took 3 each.

After about a half hour of wandering around a neighborhood of bars, we quickly realized this was a cash town, not a plastic one, and if I am being honest my jeans are too tight to fit a wallet. We found an ATM and after a 0.2 seconds of thought I decided to take out all of the money I had allotted for this trip so I could avoid paying anymore “Out of Country” fees my bank so readily charges me. I pressed the button, the machine whirled, then sputtered (never a noise you want to hear from an ATM) then the phrase ATM OUT OF SERVICE appeared on the screen in English, Spanish, Portuguese and German.

Neither of us knowing what to do we stared, dumbfounded at the machine for a few minutes, intermittently attempting to pry open the money slot where we were sure money had been dealt. We called the help number, received no answer. Well, I was not going to be deterred from a night out in Lisbon. We popped over fast to the police station to hear their two cents on the issue, they told me to call my bank in the morning and sent us on their way. Luckily, we quickly found a bar that was serving two mixed drinks and two shots for 5 Euros total, and Orlando was more than happy to sponsor my evening. (At least until we found a bar that would take my credit card, a gay bar to be exact that he did not realize he was in until I pointed out that the lovely bartender he was checking out was trans. His first gay bar! So cute.)

The next day was given to the hangover mostly, though I did find time to indulge in delicious Portuguese pastries Nata Cakes. The food in Portugal has got to be some of the best I have ever had. Some of the freshest fish ever, and presented in the most delightful ways. My mother and I like to consider ourselves foodies and we were both treated to a new delicacy, black alien looking tentacles that when twisted open taste like crab, goose neck barnacles. At the same amazing restaurant we ordered the fried calamari, which ended up being a rather large plate of fried baby squid, no bigger than my pinky knuckle. If you have ever cleaned a cephalopod, you would have been wildly impressed too.

While I ended 2019 in this beautiful city, I did not do a single thing to round out the year. Except drink two bottles of the sweetest champagne known to man by myself. The hangover the next day was about as fun as you can imagine, especially because it took place in the back seat of a van bound for Sevilla. What can I say? The booze came with the Airbnb. I also did insist that my father stop playing his elevator jazz for the last few minutes of the year, and instead played the newly redeemed classic Bella Ciao to say farewell to the decade, and if you don’t know that song, then I can’t help you.

All in all I wish I could title this blog post Portugal and not just Lisbon, because I can not wait to explore more of this beautiful country in the near future. For now though, my European visa is expired so Porto will have to wait until next time.