Thursday, July 4, 2013
When The Sun Goes Down
Gaia and Matasinhos - two of the other places I had traveled to for glorious port wine (no steep hill shall stop me) and seafood right by the sea, then heading south on a three-hour train journey to Lisboa.
What can I say except that Lisboa offers even the wisest travelers lost paths, a labyrinth of its cobbled and inclined hills for the perfect getaway for poetic inspiration and much more. The hazy summer feel already made it seem like full on summer even though I went in Spring, but the gentle breeze during deserted evenings brought the character of the city to life: its grime and danger shaped the excitement and helplessness one feels in a foreign city. Walking has a new meaning in Lisboa, as I had to walk 2 miles back to a bus stop after a street protest near Belem! Imagine that with a dozen or so egg tarts as well... I wished I had more time to discover what more each corner had to offer, but alas - every journey ends. Again, the architecture was a mixture of old and struggle for new (a good thing) and Rossio's entrance holds a special place in my memories of this city.
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