A Weekend in Portugal

After seeing several shows on the Travel Channel (one of which involved Anthony Bourdain, who I would follow anywhere), I knew that I would love Portugal. It just looked so relaxed, so scenic, so cool. You could practically feel the sea salt dance across your lips through the television, taste the freshly fried fish. I made a point to go. It is after all, Spain's little neighbor and I'll never be this close again. And so I went.

Before arriving there, however, we spent an excruciatingly long night in the Madrid airport. This is something I would never recommend. Icy, hard floors and fluorescent lighting don't exactly lull you into a deep, slack-jawed slumber, or really any sort of sleep. My friends Frank, Emily and I passed the time discussing a wide variety of topics. What would you have for your last dinner on Earth? Why, I would have Cincinnati Chili, thanks for asking.

We arrived in Lisbon after this sleepless night to meet the others: Emily, Andrea, Eddie, and Jess. From here, we decided to first see Belem, where there seemed to us to be a notable concentration of a lot of really old, important stuff. We visited the Torre de Belem, an imposing 16th century fortress and prison, built to commemorate Vasco da Gama's historical voyage to India in 1497. We then saw the Mosteiro Dos Jeronimos, where Gama is buried in a disappointingly modest tomb. This monastery is also where Gama spent the night praying before he set sail for India. Sounds like me before a plane ride.

After a brief stint in the Age of Discovery, Emily, Jess and I spent the rest of the day exploring the city. It was then that I decided that Lisbon and I would get along nicely. The city retains an old-world feel, cobble stoned streets hugging steep hills, cramped along the banks of an impressive river. Every street looked like a scene from a postcard: impossibly bright buildings, mosaics walls, and red shingled roofs. The atmosphere in Lisbon was calm and relaxed, as if no one had anything better to do but amble. And really, nothing beats ambling.

The next day, we took a day trip to Sintra, a small town forty-five minutes outside of Lisbon. Sintra was small and charming, with a foreboding castle looming above the town. It is also the home of a particular Almond pastry that won my heart over with its gooey perfection.

We spent most of the day at La Quinta Da Regaleira, not to be confused with La Quinta Inn of budget hotel fame. This Quinta is a palace once owned by a millionaire who really knew how to spend his money. The estate grounds are filled with lush gardens and ponds with stepping stones and castle towers to climb. There were interconnecting, labyrinthine caves leading to the bottoms of wells. It was everything you could ever hope for in a palace. My guidebook said the owner was "eccentric," but I think the man was a genius.

After we returned to Lisbon, we decided to eat the three-course, three-drink meal provided by our hostel, all for a very reasonable eight euro. The meal was, strangely, a traditional Uzbekistan feast and, even stranger, really good. We went out that night in the Barrio Alto, a hilly neighborhood that was buzzing with throngs of people cramped into tiny, dimly lit and casually trendy bars.

The next day, it was back to Granada, but now with a new found respect for Portugal. I had heard it was cool. I had seen the travel channels shows, but now I really understood. Portugal is awesome. If you can find the time and the means, this is not a place to miss.

In lieu of my camera, I have included below some ridiculously scenic pictures of Lisbon, courtesy of Google images. You can pretend I took them if you'd like.