As it ends up, Lisbon is a pretty pricey place just to get into. We spent almost 40 euro just to get past toll roads and bridges. But we were welcomed into the city with a bridge identical to the Golden Gate in San Francisco, and a Giant Jesus that reached heights higher than buildings, arms outstretched. From far away, the Giant Jesus looked just like a cross.
Well, as we entered the city and began our search for our hostel, it once again was looking grim. We decided to stop the madness quick and ask for help. We had discovered in our travels that bus drivers were the best people to ask for help. We pulled over at a bus stop where a person was standing, asked for a street name. Soon a bus pulled up, and the driver got out and came and talked to us. He had a bus with people in it, and he was obviously on the clock, but he still came over and tried to help.
We found out in Faro that talking to Portuguese people can be complicated for more than one reason. 1) We don’t speak Portuguese; 2) They don’t often speak English; and 3) Although Spanish is very similar to Portuguese, they are offended if you immediately start speaking to them in Spanish. Apparently, it is a sore spot with Portuguese people that tourists often assume they speak Spanish because they share the Iberian Peninsula with Spain. Although Portuguese is a Latin language and shares a similar grammar structure and sometimes similar sounding words with Spanish, they are not the same, and therefore Portuguese people prefer if you speak to them in your foreign tongue, even if it isn’t close to what they can understand. However, with some people, we were able to meet halfway. They spoke Portuguese, we spoke Spanish, and for the most part, both parties were understood. However, we were having a slightly difficult time understanding the bus driver. He walked away, got back into his bus, and motioned for us to follow him.
I have never in my life had a bus driver motion to a car I was in to follow them. But then again, never in my life had I been to Portugal before now. So, we started up our engine and proceeded to follow the bus through the transit only lane. At least we were given the go ahead to break the law on this one, right? As we came to our turn, the bus driver turned on his signal and motioned for us to turn. We found the street we needed, and our hostel, and it was all thanks to the bus driver! Sam parallel parked the van perfectly in one try, and we headed to bed for a good nights rest.
Where we parked that night charged for parking starting at 8am, so our friend Nicola offered to be the one to wake up bright and early to put money in the meter. At 8:10 am we were woken by Nicola walking in the room.
“Sam, there are two tow-trucks, policemen, and a tram full of people stuck behind our car. I need 80 euro right now.”
Well, that woke me right up. Apparently, our perfect parallel parking job wasn’t perfect enough. We were about five inches over a line that marked where the tram passes, and the tram couldn’t get by our van. The tow trucks were getting ready to pull us out when Nicola got there. Apparently the police officers were very nice, and moved our van for us so it wasn’t sticking out. We were charged for both blocking the tram and the tow trucks having to drive out there. At least our van didn’t get stuck in a Portuguese impound! And 80 euro split between seven people isn’t terrible.
After getting over the shock of our morning we set out to explore a little of Lisbon. Lisbon really is the San Francisco of Europe. Aside from the bridge that looks exactly like the Golden Gate, there are trolleys that run around town, steep streets, and a large river that pours right into the Atlantic. The weather was beautiful, and so many things about Lisbon reminded me of California. However, we had plans to grab lunch and take a trip to a beach 30 minutes away, and we just weren’t fast enough to look around town.
It is somewhat difficult to get seven people all headed right away to look at the same things. We were all distracted in our own ways, so we didn’t go to many historical sites, but instead just took a nice stroll around town. I still enjoyed it though.We headed back to our van, and headed out to a beach that was recommended to us. We pulled up into a small town no bigger than Salmon, Idaho and found the beach with it’s glistening water, huge waves and endless stretch of sand.
I thought how fun it would be to body surf…until I saw many people doing another kind of surfing. Kitesurfing. The water was dotted with surfers holding onto ropes attached to parachute looking kites. It was amazing to watch them catch air and be suspended for about 30 feet before landing perfectly back on the roller coaster water. I suddenly remembered my professor for my Civilization and Culture class in Granada telling me this area was one of the windsurfing/kite surfing capitals of Europe.
The wind made for a great sport to watch, but a terrible place to sit and sunbathe. Our bodies were sandblasted, leaving our skin agitated and dirty feeling. We attempted to withstand the beating, but didn’t last long. We enjoyed the fine sand and the view, but realized the beach didn’t work for our purposes. We went home and decided to find a grocery store so as to make a big dinner together.
After scrounging together a dinner that could feed seven girls, one being lactose intolerant, another vegetarian, and then me, gluten-free, we headed back to the hostel to make some food. We succeeded in finding more than enough food for under 20 euro. While we were preparing dinner in the kitchen, we met some of the new guests staying there. Two boys from Australia had just arrived and were hanging out in the kitchen and the common area. We all started talking, and got along pretty well. Between other guests in the hostel that spoke French, and then not being able to as easily communicate with people in Portugal, it was a relief to be able to talk to someone without having to go through awkward moments of miscommunication and language barriers. The Australians, Nick and Dan, were friendly and fun to joke with. While we made dinner, a man came in the kitchen advertising a pub-crawl to us. Five euro for several bars, and after thinking about it for a little while, and some hilarious persuasion from the Aussies, we decided to go.
Somehow we got separated from the Aussies, and headed out to the pub crawl with just us girls. Five of us went and two stayed at the hostel. We were a little confused how to get to the pub crawl (imagine that?) and some Portuguese guys told us to follow them since they were headed in that direction. They were really nice and held up the image of nice Portuguese people. Our way to the pub crawl was basically up one of the longest, steepest roads, which had we not been living in Spain for this entire time, may have crippled any newcomer to the area.
When we made it to the area, I don’t know how we could’ve found the pub crawl. Whereas in Granada drinking in streets is illegal, there was basically an outdoor discoteca set up in one of the plazas. A DJ was on a stage with lights and a video screen, people were dancing in the plaza, and little alcohol stands were set up around the edges. The streets around the plaza were buzzing with people standing outside of bars with their drinks, and inside of the bars it was fairly empty. We couldn’t find the pub crawl, so we settled for a bar that had 1 euro drinks.
As we went searching for other places to drink, we came upon what I like to call “Hashish Corner.” Basically, there was a small intersection of narrow streets between all the bars where men stood at every corner with either hash or marijuana. One man walked up to us with a small brick of hash and asked if we wanted any. We all said “no,” and turned around only to be faced by a man with a bag of weed. I must’ve said no a little too emphatically, because the men laughed at me.
Just after that, we ran into the Aussies again!
They hadn’t found the pub crawl either, so we all went to the same bar and hung out for awhile. Once again, it was nice to be able to have conversation with somebody. We had already had people come up to us trying to talk to us in Portuguese before they realized we had no idea what they were saying. We had a good time hanging out with them, and Nick and Dan’s sense of humor combined with their different personalities made them the center of attention. Well, at least with us. And let’s face it, Australian accents are just fun to listen to. Before the end of the night, Sam and I had fully laid out for them the hilarity of our trip; our wrong way streets, pedestrian areas, and interactions with locals. And then, we told them what we were planning to do next. The next day we were headed to Sintra, a town we had heard was “magical” in its fairytale like qualities. After getting along with them so well, I immediately invited them along.
“You have to go with us! We have two extra seats! It’s only 30 minutes away!” I said excited.
“What exactly is Sintra?” one of them asked.
“It’s a mystical, magical land!!” I said
Sam was certain they wouldn’t come with us after that description, but we all headed back to the hostel and Nick asked me if I was serious about the invite. We all went to bed in our respective rooms, and I fell asleep wondering if they would really go with us, and how the other girls would react when they found out I invited two Australian boys along for the ride.
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