A mere two months since leaving the Iberian Peninsula, I found myself hankering to return to the laidback, easygoing spirit of Western Europe’s last frontier. With the enchanting Ai Se Eu Te Pego dominating European airwaves, I couldn’t help but to feel inspired to set foot in Portugal. Excuse the faulty logic; I know that Michel Teló is in fact Brazilian. Well, inspiration is inspiration, so the next thing I knew, I was off to Lisbon.
Stepping off the plane at Lisbon International Airport, I immediately felt more relaxed. Paris, as much as I am blinded by its many positive qualities, is far too pretentious for its own good. Everyone has something important to attend to, somewhere to go to be seen. Nevertheless, while riding the convenient AeroBus along the grandiose Avenida da Liberdade into town, I couldn’t help but wonder where all the action was. It was merely half past nine in the evening, yet all of the stores I saw were closed, and nobody was on the streets. This was in stark contrast with the around-the-clock frenzy of Madrid. All of a sudden, I found myself in Praça dos Restauradores, a beautiful public square in the heart of downtown, or at least the closest thing that resembles one.
After checking into Pensão Portuense, a family-run hotel of great value, I ventured around Baixa, an elegant, grid-patterned district featuring sprawling public plazas, orderly traditional buildings, and many al fresco dining options. One quick word about food in Portugal: cod, cod, and more cod. You can eat cod in every way possible: baked, steamed, fried, shoved into little balls mixed with mashed potatoes, mashed into purée and baked into a gratin, mixed with Pili Pili (check name) fried potato sticks and made into a casserole, etc. And all of them are delicious. Sandwiched between two traditional buildings was the Elevador de Santa Justa, an eye-catching elevator connecting the highest and lowest points of the city. Wandering along the Avenida da Liberdade, I heard techno beats, decided to follow them, and stumbled upon Banana Café, one of Lisbon’s many al fresco kiosk-cafés, which featured a laidback attitude and some mean mojitos, self-proclaimed to the best in town. I washed the mojito down with a pastel de nata, or Portuguese egg tart. There was simply no better way to get acquainted with the city of Lisbon.
Day two started off bright and early with a rather haphazard northbound walk around Avenida da Liberdade’s side streets. On a sunny Sunday morning, Lisbon’s pastelerias were still serving up crunchily soft egg tarts. After about an hour of wandering, I found myself at Praça de Pombal, where Avenida da Liberdade ends and Parque Eduardo VII begins. Flanked with ritzy establishments at all intersections, the Marquês de Pombal roundabout nevertheless manages to retain a modest appearance. I stopped by the behemoth El Corte Inglés, which, to my surprise, was nearly empty.
Following the exploration of Lisbon on foot, I made it in time to the Sunday worship at the International Baptist Church of Lisbon, located in the São Sebastião da Pedreira district, located just east of Parque Eduardo VII. After a wonderful and unique service, I had my first taste of Portuguese steak and eggs – which became a recurring theme during my time in Portugal – at a local cantine. Another word on dining in Lisbon: bread is often not complimentary. Expect to pay by the slice if presented with a basketful.
With the sun still shining brightly in the afternoon, I decided to board the famously retro Tram 28 to the Castelo São Jorge, which starts at Praça Figueira. The rickety wooden tram carriages zipped through narrow, cobblestone alleys up the hill to a promontory overlooking the sea. The cozy tram cars provided a less than pleasant experience of being packed right up against a crowd of people, but fortunately, the ride doesn’t last more than fifteen minutes. Along the seaside is a neighborhood almost entirely composed of brown slanted roof-tiled buildings with white façades. If ever I needed a reminder that I was in southern Europe, this place would be it. The relaxed irregularity of the buildings provided a stark contrast against the Haussmannian precision of Paris.
Following an obligatory photo shoot overlooking the sea, I entered the premises of the Castelo São Jorge, rich in history, but equally rich in scenic beauty. [quick word about the history] The museum of the castle’s history is well-done, but less than inspiring. Think of what a castle looks like in your mind. That’s what Castelo São Jorge resembles, crenels and all. The Moorish windows with broken arches … beautiful, etc. etc.
An afternoon immersed in history, complete with climbing up old castles, can only be properly followed up with quality local cuisine. The wonderfully helpful staff at the hotel, who all spoke impeccable English and were always proactive in helping plan excursion, recommended Adega das Gravatas, a restaurant popular with locals tucked away in a highly residential area in the northwest of the city (i.e. far, far away from the tourists). With pages and pages of meat and seafood dishes on offer, the restaurant was packed with locals by 8PM. Upon being seated, a number of appetizers, including fried calamari and marinated octopus salad, were already on the table. Reminder: none of them are complimentary. I decided to stick with the marinated octopus salad, and it was delicious. The octopus was fresh, well seasoned, mixed with a generous amount of olive oil, and had just a bit of a kick. For my main dish, I opted for a beefsteak in a butter sauce served with a fried egg. I love butter sauces, and my dish came with more than enough butter – it was fantastic. The meat was tender and cooked to a perfect medium-rare. The dish came with a plate of rice, fries, and peanuts mixed with a powder (ground nuts? flax seed?). The portions were large, so I did not get to finish my plate of sides. Definitely come hungry.
The following day, I was off to Cascais, the seaside town a mere half hour away from Lisbon by suburban train. The gorgeous blue skies, streets lined with palm trees, and the pristine beaches reminded me of California. The narrow, cobblestone streets winding up the hill added a distinctive touch to the otherwise standard beachside town. The town of Cascais offers three beaches, all of which were rather empty in late March, despite the ideal beach-going conditions. The neighboring town of Estoril, a mere fifteen-minute walk along the coast, offers a handful more. The water was a little nippy, but the sand was soft and warm, as was the temperature.
The town of Cascais in late March was a rather disorienting experience. The infrastructure of the town seemed to be welcoming hordes of tourists, with a concentrated mass of restaurants in the “downtown,” each with an officious promoter inviting you to his restaurant, naming dishes on the menu as you walk past. In addition, each restaurant had a sprawling outdoor terrace, which remained completely empty over the course of the night. I felt like the only tourist in town.
Nevertheless, for dinner, I set foot in a touristy establishment, where I ordered beef steak on a hot stone (I noticed quite a few locals in Lisbon eating this, so I figured it was a must) and grilled salmon fillet. Following a better than average (for a touristy establishment) dinner, I relaxed in a local wine bar over a few glasses of Porto wine (Tawny and Ruby).
The next stop on the itinerary was Sintra, home to a national park, former royal palaces, and a castle of its own. From Cascais, Sintra was an hour-long ride on a bus. In fact, there are two buses to Sintra – one that is more direct, and one that is far more scenic, detouring off to the Cabo da Roca, the westernmost point of the Eurasian continental land mass. I opted for the latter, and I found myself ooh-ing and ahh-ing throughout the whole ride on the winding coastal roads to Sintra. Once in town, I checked into a spacious apartment next to the former Royal Palace at Casa da Pendôa.
Then we took a cab ride up to the Moorish Castle. The bus costs 4 euros per person, whereas the taxi from the tourist office to the castle cost between 4-5 euros. It may be more cost effective to take a cab if traveling in a group. From the Moorish Castle, Pena Palace was a leisurely ten minute walk up the hill. We opted not to take the bus back down to Sintra, so instead walked for roughly an hour down the steep, winding hairpins leading right into town.
The return to Lisbon from Sintra could not have been easier. A direct train every 20 minutes links Sintra to Lisbon’s Rossio Station, a journey that takes roughly half an hour. Once at Rossio, the clean and efficient metro system links you with the rest of the city. Checked into our hotel, Mar dos Açores, in the north of town. Definitely no tourists and significantly more working class. 4 euros got us a filling lunch of vegetable soup, bifana (pork loin sandwich), and a beer.
The rest of the afternoon was to be dedicated to none other than egg tarts. Headed to Belem to see if Pasteis de Belem, the touristy egg tart joint, was in fact serving up the best egg tarts since 1837. The answer is unequivocally yes. The crust was flakier and more substantial than the others. The egg filling was creamier and more complex than the rest. Served with powdered sugar and cinnamon, the Pasteis de Belem was nothing short of pure ecstasy. Especially since I consumed a box of them (6 for 6,60 euros) in the green park overlooking the sea just next to the pastelaria. With a view of the 25 de Abril Bridge and the colorful, Victorian-like houses, the experience was San Francisco-esque, which is always a good thing. Then briefly walked along the Monastery and Tower of Belem before returning to Baixa for some Portuguese snacks, like chicken pot pie and a cheese hors d’oeuvre, and dinner, which was another beef steak on a hot stone.
Stepping off the plane at Lisbon International Airport, I immediately felt more relaxed. Paris, as much as I am blinded by its many positive qualities, is far too pretentious for its own good. Everyone has something important to attend to, somewhere to go to be seen. Nevertheless, while riding the convenient AeroBus along the grandiose Avenida da Liberdade into town, I couldn’t help but wonder where all the action was. It was merely half past nine in the evening, yet all of the stores I saw were closed, and nobody was on the streets. This was in stark contrast with the around-the-clock frenzy of Madrid. All of a sudden, I found myself in Praça dos Restauradores, a beautiful public square in the heart of downtown, or at least the closest thing that resembles one.
After checking into Pensão Portuense, a family-run hotel of great value, I ventured around Baixa, an elegant, grid-patterned district featuring sprawling public plazas, orderly traditional buildings, and many al fresco dining options. One quick word about food in Portugal: cod, cod, and more cod. You can eat cod in every way possible: baked, steamed, fried, shoved into little balls mixed with mashed potatoes, mashed into purée and baked into a gratin, mixed with Pili Pili (check name) fried potato sticks and made into a casserole, etc. And all of them are delicious. Sandwiched between two traditional buildings was the Elevador de Santa Justa, an eye-catching elevator connecting the highest and lowest points of the city. Wandering along the Avenida da Liberdade, I heard techno beats, decided to follow them, and stumbled upon Banana Café, one of Lisbon’s many al fresco kiosk-cafés, which featured a laidback attitude and some mean mojitos, self-proclaimed to the best in town. I washed the mojito down with a pastel de nata, or Portuguese egg tart. There was simply no better way to get acquainted with the city of Lisbon.
Following the exploration of Lisbon on foot, I made it in time to the Sunday worship at the International Baptist Church of Lisbon, located in the São Sebastião da Pedreira district, located just east of Parque Eduardo VII. After a wonderful and unique service, I had my first taste of Portuguese steak and eggs – which became a recurring theme during my time in Portugal – at a local cantine. Another word on dining in Lisbon: bread is often not complimentary. Expect to pay by the slice if presented with a basketful.
Following an obligatory photo shoot overlooking the sea, I entered the premises of the Castelo São Jorge, rich in history, but equally rich in scenic beauty. [quick word about the history] The museum of the castle’s history is well-done, but less than inspiring. Think of what a castle looks like in your mind. That’s what Castelo São Jorge resembles, crenels and all. The Moorish windows with broken arches … beautiful, etc. etc.
An afternoon immersed in history, complete with climbing up old castles, can only be properly followed up with quality local cuisine. The wonderfully helpful staff at the hotel, who all spoke impeccable English and were always proactive in helping plan excursion, recommended Adega das Gravatas, a restaurant popular with locals tucked away in a highly residential area in the northwest of the city (i.e. far, far away from the tourists). With pages and pages of meat and seafood dishes on offer, the restaurant was packed with locals by 8PM. Upon being seated, a number of appetizers, including fried calamari and marinated octopus salad, were already on the table. Reminder: none of them are complimentary. I decided to stick with the marinated octopus salad, and it was delicious. The octopus was fresh, well seasoned, mixed with a generous amount of olive oil, and had just a bit of a kick. For my main dish, I opted for a beefsteak in a butter sauce served with a fried egg. I love butter sauces, and my dish came with more than enough butter – it was fantastic. The meat was tender and cooked to a perfect medium-rare. The dish came with a plate of rice, fries, and peanuts mixed with a powder (ground nuts? flax seed?). The portions were large, so I did not get to finish my plate of sides. Definitely come hungry.
The following day, I was off to Cascais, the seaside town a mere half hour away from Lisbon by suburban train. The gorgeous blue skies, streets lined with palm trees, and the pristine beaches reminded me of California. The narrow, cobblestone streets winding up the hill added a distinctive touch to the otherwise standard beachside town. The town of Cascais offers three beaches, all of which were rather empty in late March, despite the ideal beach-going conditions. The neighboring town of Estoril, a mere fifteen-minute walk along the coast, offers a handful more. The water was a little nippy, but the sand was soft and warm, as was the temperature.
The town of Cascais in late March was a rather disorienting experience. The infrastructure of the town seemed to be welcoming hordes of tourists, with a concentrated mass of restaurants in the “downtown,” each with an officious promoter inviting you to his restaurant, naming dishes on the menu as you walk past. In addition, each restaurant had a sprawling outdoor terrace, which remained completely empty over the course of the night. I felt like the only tourist in town.
Nevertheless, for dinner, I set foot in a touristy establishment, where I ordered beef steak on a hot stone (I noticed quite a few locals in Lisbon eating this, so I figured it was a must) and grilled salmon fillet. Following a better than average (for a touristy establishment) dinner, I relaxed in a local wine bar over a few glasses of Porto wine (Tawny and Ruby).
The next stop on the itinerary was Sintra, home to a national park, former royal palaces, and a castle of its own. From Cascais, Sintra was an hour-long ride on a bus. In fact, there are two buses to Sintra – one that is more direct, and one that is far more scenic, detouring off to the Cabo da Roca, the westernmost point of the Eurasian continental land mass. I opted for the latter, and I found myself ooh-ing and ahh-ing throughout the whole ride on the winding coastal roads to Sintra. Once in town, I checked into a spacious apartment next to the former Royal Palace at Casa da Pendôa.
Then we took a cab ride up to the Moorish Castle. The bus costs 4 euros per person, whereas the taxi from the tourist office to the castle cost between 4-5 euros. It may be more cost effective to take a cab if traveling in a group. From the Moorish Castle, Pena Palace was a leisurely ten minute walk up the hill. We opted not to take the bus back down to Sintra, so instead walked for roughly an hour down the steep, winding hairpins leading right into town.
The return to Lisbon from Sintra could not have been easier. A direct train every 20 minutes links Sintra to Lisbon’s Rossio Station, a journey that takes roughly half an hour. Once at Rossio, the clean and efficient metro system links you with the rest of the city. Checked into our hotel, Mar dos Açores, in the north of town. Definitely no tourists and significantly more working class. 4 euros got us a filling lunch of vegetable soup, bifana (pork loin sandwich), and a beer.
The rest of the afternoon was to be dedicated to none other than egg tarts. Headed to Belem to see if Pasteis de Belem, the touristy egg tart joint, was in fact serving up the best egg tarts since 1837. The answer is unequivocally yes. The crust was flakier and more substantial than the others. The egg filling was creamier and more complex than the rest. Served with powdered sugar and cinnamon, the Pasteis de Belem was nothing short of pure ecstasy. Especially since I consumed a box of them (6 for 6,60 euros) in the green park overlooking the sea just next to the pastelaria. With a view of the 25 de Abril Bridge and the colorful, Victorian-like houses, the experience was San Francisco-esque, which is always a good thing. Then briefly walked along the Monastery and Tower of Belem before returning to Baixa for some Portuguese snacks, like chicken pot pie and a cheese hors d’oeuvre, and dinner, which was another beef steak on a hot stone.
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