October 26, 2011

Lisboa

Ok, ok... I take back (most of) the bad things I said about Lisbon. In the past 5 or 6 visits to the city, I've faced short layovers on my way to and from the Azores, required to spend the night and half a day or so due to genius flight scheduling. As a result, I came to label the city as dirty, crowded, ugly, noisy, so on and so forth. This time around, I intentionally scheduled a whopping 3-nights in Lisbon. I started a little Brownie troop at one of the international schools last year. So, the extra time was warranted. I'm not going to lie though, I also was sure to leave myself a full day for sightseeing.

Sunday morning, I awoke to a knock on my door at 10am. Room service! One of the many hotel tricks I've discovered in my travels is that room service breakfast is often cheaper than the breakfast served in the on-site restaurant. I paid 11-euro for the room service while they charged 17-euro for the restaurant buffet. Plus, I got to stay in my PJs a little longer. Win, win!

So, after breakfast in bed, I drug myself out of the hotel (one of the downfalls of traveling alone is that its way too easy to talk yourself into staying in the room all day) and went in search of a big, red tourist bus. Within 10 minutes of planting myself at what I thought was the bus stop, I spotted one, stopped about a block up the road from where I was waiting. I made a run for it and reached the bus right as it was pulling off. I decided to wait at this new found stop. 10 minutes later, a big, yellow tourist bus stops a block back down the road, right where I was waiting earlier. Another run for it. Another miss. I walk dejectedly back up the road. Another 10 minutes pass and a 3rd bus stops ACROSS THE BUSY STREET. Not my day. I decided to stay put and wait it out. (Wo)man versus big, red/yellow tourist buses. About an hour and a half after first leaving the hotel, I finally climb aboard a bus!

Because my hotel was a bit off the beaten path, I had a long ride to the center. The bus took me through the part of town that hosted the World Expo in 1998, looped back around to the Alfama neighborhood (which I'd get to know better Monday evening) and up to the Marques de Pombal. I changed buses here and headed towards my ultimate destination (finally!), Torre de Belem. I'd been advised to try out the tasty Pasteis de Belem too but I swear, I was going mostly for the Torre.

When I hopped off the bus, I was greeted with a face full of salty air (being near the water and all) and this view:


After checking out the mini-castle, I promenaded down the sidewalk, following the water. Along the way, I spotted a few women on the beach, frantically picking up something and throwing it in a plastic shopping bag. Curious, I kicked off my shoes and wandered down to see what was up. They were collecting perfectly shaped, tiny seashells. One of the women told me she uses the shells in jewlery. I spotted a nice one and pocketed it as a free little souvenir of my time in Lisbon.


Moving further down the water, I spotted a market across a giant, 6-lane road. How to cross, how to cross... Not wanting to risk my life for a few hand-made goods, I went off in search of a pedestrian over or under pass. I found one what seemed like miles away, crossed over and traipsed all the way back to my market. It turned out to be a great find! Markets can be hit or miss in Europe and luckily this one was a hit with original jewlery, art work and unique antiques. After browsing every stall, I headed off towards Pasteis de Belem (PDM), recent purchases in tow.

As I approached PDM, I was greeted by a mob of people milling around outside in what was their attempt at a queue. (Not surprisingly, about every 60 seconds, a yelling match would ensue when an Italian tried to waltz directly to the front, leaving a lot of angry and vocal people in his/her wake.) I stood and laughed at the scene for a few minutes before taking advantage of the insider scoop I'd learned the night before. From the outside, it seems like the shop is tiny with almost no seating. So, most tourists queue up outside, resigned to take away. However, wander a few steps in and you realize the place is actually massive. Room after room presents itself, filled with the smell of their world famous pastel.

I quickly got a table and ordered a pastel and port. When the pastel arrived, I topped it with powdered sugar and cinnamon. (It took spying on a near-by table to realize the shakers weren't salt and pepper.) A sip of port and a melt-in-your-mouth, warm, creamy goodness bite of pastel and I was in heaven. The pastel was so good, I asked the waitress to bring me one more, por favor.

Happy with my pastel experience, I settled the bill (just 6-euro, quite the bargain!) and headed out. As it turns out, I lingered just a little bit too long in Belem; the buses (or, the tourist ones at least) had all stopped running. Being a brave, independent traveller, I gathered my courage and what little sense of direction I posses and headed below ground.

Traveling alone almost never bothers me anymore UNTIL moments like this, when you find yourself in a metro station, deciphering a tri-color, dot-laden map. What I wouldn't give to have someone I could confirm with, "Hey. We take the blue line to the red line and then continue on 2 more stops to our hotel, right?" But, when you travel alone, there's none of that. You just study the map extra hard, hold your breath and hop on a train. I'm not going to confess here how many times I've had to stop dead in my tracks, make a complete 180 and head back the way I came. Luckily, the Lisbon metro is pretty simple and easy to understand. I found my stop on the first try, spotted my tall hotel about 3 blocks away as soon as I got above ground and called it a day.

Monday, I went to the International School for a quick meeting with the Headmaster. More importantly -- in my world anyhow -- I met 5 little Girl Scout Brownies to sing songs. I taught them the Bean Song (my dog green likes to roam!), the Button Factory Song (Hi, my name is Joe!), the Milk Song (Just give me that milk, moo moo moo moo!) and the girls' favorite, the Blackbird Song. You know, the one where the blackbird flies in the country store and Pfttts on everything. Ahh, I impart such important life lessons on today's girls. After the fun song session, we headed back in to Lisbon. (The school sits above Lisbon in a beautiful town called Sintra.)

That evening, I met Sara, a friend of a friend for dinner. Some days, I swear, I've never met a stranger. Knowing I had a 7am flight (meaning a 5am taxi ride to the airport) and having been particularly extroverted for the last 7 days of business travel, it was actually more like I was forced to have dinner with a friend of a friend... at first. Almost immediately, I warmed up to Sara though and realized I was in for a fun night.

We hopped on the metro and headed to the Alfama neighborhood. Sara described this part of town as, "soulful, back alleys full of locals..." and she was right! Seemingly worlds away from the hustle and bustle of Lisbon, the Alfama area is an eclectic, funky part of town with small, hole-in-the-wall restaurants. Many of these restaurants were advertising live Fado that evening. I dropped hints for a few minutes before Sara asked, "Do you want to see Fado?" Um, yes! Fado is traditional, Portuguese folk music, full of longing for lost love. When I told Sara the music sounded eerie and melancholy, she explained to me that Portugal was a country of explorers for a very long time. Many people lost their lovers to new lands and expeditions and this love lost and longing lead to Fado. Well, that explains it.

We ordered a typical dish of cod fish stew (not my favorite, I'll admit, but edible) and listened to the 12-string guitar for hours. With my taxi ride to the airport just hours away, we eventually pulled ourselves away from the music so that I could get a couple hours of sleep.

I left Lisbon the next morning (if you can even call 5am morning) with the Fado still ringing in my ears and waved goodbye (for now) to this city.





October 3, 2011

Welcome Back

In honor of my dad, I'm going to attempt a return to this blogging business. I've been all over the place since I last wrote -- from Lake Como to Berlin (both for pleasure) and New York to London (both for work). So, I'm not going to try to fill in the blanks of everything you've missed but rather pick up from yesterday morning...

On Sunday, my dad and I said our 'goodbyes' in front of the Rome airport's Hilton Garden Inn after a whirlwind 2-week vacation/tour of Italy from top to bottom. I hopped on the bus to the airport and held on tight as the driver flew through one stop sign after another. An unknowing American tourist sitting in the seat to my left remarked in earnest to his wife, "Those stop signs must be for someone else..." Uh-huh. Right.

As we approached the airport, our fearless driver spotted a traffic jam in his parking spot. We were still 50-feet away when the horn honking started. In case his morning wasn't already ruined by the Land Rover parked diagonally across 2 lanes of traffic, a ballsy taxi driver then decided to try his luck. Disregarding his stop sign, as traffic started moving again, the taxi wormed its way in front of our bus. I could see our driver weighing the pros and cons of a side-swipe to the taxi with the bus but luckily for all involved, he refrained. Instead, he threw open his window, started yelling and took both hands off the wheel to start in on the "Vaffanculo" hand gestures. I swear, the man actually screamed, "Che parte di stop non capite?" Or, in English, "What part of stop don't you understand, asshole?" The guilty taxi driver stopped in front of us to plead his case with an unsympathetic police officer before moving on. Our bus driver pulled in to his hard earned parking spot but not before stopping to bid "Buongiorno" to the police officer. The doors opened and we all piled off.

This exciting ride was a fitting ending to an equally exciting 2-weeks with my dad. He landed in Rome on September 17 and we didn't stop going until we parted for our separate flights yesterday. Highlights included:

- Matera! A pre-historic town of recently restored cave dwellings. This place was unlike anywhere I'd ever been. Our hotel was literally in a cave -- humidity and all -- and we discovered the world's best pizza at Oi' Mari, a hole in the wall (Get it? Town of caves? Hole in the wall? Ha, ha, ha...) spot at the bottom of Matera.

- The beautiful Amalfi Coast and the less than beautiful driving. I haven't decided if the spectacular scenery and doting hospitality of our Mafia-run hotel makes up for the insane driving here. We stayed in Praiano, right in the middle, between Amalfi and Positano. Every day we faced driving like this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tsv7rMEJx3M.

- Dinner with my friends Sandra and Ale. We ate, we drank and my Dad and Ale talked photography while Sandra and I gossiped about work (it's what we do) all night.

- A return to the Isola di Capraia, possibly my favorite spot in Italy. After an early morning ferry ride from Livorno on Saturday we blew off treking for beers and a nap by the pool. We made up for our lazy day on Sunday though with a 3-hour trek along the coast and a private boat ride around the island, complete with a stop for swimming in the crystal-clear, cool Mediterranean Ocean.

- Lake Garda, with a day trip to the Dolomiti Mountains (i.e. my favorite place on earth). I breathed in the mountain air, wore a sweater and long pants most days and just generally enjoyed being in the north of Italy (where things are cleaner, quieter, calmer...) for a few days. Garda is a beautiful, serene spot, glowing blue in the day time, pink at dusk and twinkling with lights after dark. On our 3rd day there, we took a sail boat across the lake and back. It seemed as if the lake was just made for sailing. We stayed in a so-so hotel in Malcesine -- while the hotel was nothing special, we did discover an amazing restaurant thanks to TripAdvisor. If you're ever in the area, be sure to plan for a meal (or two or three) at Al Gondoliere (www.algondoliere.com). I'm still dreaming about their ravioli in pistachio sauce.

Dad arrived back in Charlotte yesterday afternoon and I went back to work today but life doesn't go back to "normal" for me anytime soon. So, there's hope yet for more of these stories. I'll spend a week and a half in Portugal (mostly work, some play) soon. A quick 4-day trip to Prague at the end of October. Prague is on my bucket list! I love crossing places off the list... (Ok, ok... and adding a magnet to my collection.) Then, a week in Houston, Texas for the big Girl Scout National Convention (Happy 100th Birthday to us!), followed by 2-weeks at home in Charlotte in November. Somewhere between then and the end of the year, I hope to squeeze in trips to London, Amsterdam and Germany. Whew. 2012 is going to be here before I know it!