And so, the journey began! After a slightly harrowing altercation with my initial connecting flight from DCA to PHL, Greg and I made our flight to Lisbon, and after a couple of sodium rich meals and falling asleep with mouths agape, we touched down in Lisbon at around 10:30 a.m. Our first encounter with a Lisbon native was our customs agent who was grinning from ear to ear as we approached. As he stamped our passports he told us he’d meet us on the beach for a glass of white wine later. I could tell already that I was going to like this city. 

  
We easily navigated Lisbon’s efficient public transit system (which says a lot coming from me!) to make our way from the airport to our hostel. After exiting the metro, Greg and I both reveled in that brink-of-adventure moment and stopped to savor the feeling of the salty breeze within the damp shade of a stoney backstreet. It was very easy to find Yes! Lisbon Hostel, which was situated in an ideal location close to the waterfront, metro station, and charming neighborhoods. After checking in with  an energetic staff member who wanted to impress us with his knowledge of D.C. Sports facts, it became clear to me that the people of Lisbon seem to truly enjoy life and enjoy interacting with people. It is so often that the population within a destination determines how we feel about the destination overall, and so, Lisbon was already beginning to gain my affection. Our room was not quite ready, which was not problematic for us since we were high on the fumes of a budding adventure and eager to get lost in the tangle of backstreets combing through the hills. 

Our first, “Okay, we’re in Europe,” moment was probably when we stepped onto the Main Street outside our hostel. Our senses were immediately bombarded with new smells, sounds, and sensations. When I think back to first seeing Lisbon I see bright yellow and white, I can smell the barbecuing sardines, and I can feel the breeze coming off of the water. Even the sidewalks are something to admire in Lisbon- patterned stones and rocks stretch from the hilltops down toward the main square at the center of the waterfront. We walked through an enormous white arch and into the Praca do Comercio where bright yellow buildings and open-air cafes all seem to present Lisbon’s focal point and source of all things, well, “Lisbon”-  the water. The square teemed with life and energy. Many Americans might compare Lisbon to San Fransisco, due to its smaller-scale Golden Gate Bridge replica stretching across the Tagus River, its passion for seafood, and its steep hills. There are some topographic and structural similarities, but the cultural and sensory experiences to be had in Lisbon truly set it apart as its own, unique entity.  Lisbon holds fast to its cultural traditions such as a love for Fado music, a devotion to their patron saint as well as to Catholicism in general, grilled prawns, sardines, vino verde, port wine, and of course, soccer (futebol). 

   
   
Greg and I made our way to Alfama, a charming neighborhood that blooms up the trolley tracked hills opposite the waterfront. We wandered into a small cafe where I tried my first grilled sardines as we were serenaded by a 2 piece Mariachi style band. The sardines were a bit… bony, but nonetheless a fun and salty cultural experience. Post lunch we made our way to the top of the Alfama neighborhood and through the gates of the Castelo da Sao Jorge, a Moorish castle and fort built in the mid-11th century. It’s perched atop the peak of the Alfama neighborhood hills, in an area of the old medieval  citadel and is comprised of the castle, ruins of the former palace, and part of the neighborhood for the elite. We probably spent a good 2 hours exploring every tower and cranny of the stone fortress. Greg being a bit frightened by narrow spaces and heights, was cracking me up with his noises of apprehension every time we ascended a tower staircase. The real kicker was when we saw an elderly couple sail up and down the stairs with ease right after we had descended gripping the railing for dear life and sweating with fear.

   
    
   
200 photos and 3 water closet breaks later, we were fully impressed by the castle and ready to sponge up the rest of this haven by the river. We ambled through more backstreets that, to my delight, were strewn with colorful streamers, window boxes brimming with bright flowers, and doors and windows adorned with sparkly shrines to the patron saint. As a lover of all things festive, I rapidly became enamored by this rainbow of festivity. On our way down the castle hill, a small wine shop called Graca do Vinho caught our eye and beckoned us inside. Lined with shelves of books, plants, artwork, and of course, wine, this quirky and comfortable stop was one of our favorites. We sat at a tiny table for two, which soon became 3 when the neighboring store’s dog came to join us while his owners went out for the day, for perhaps 2-3 hours sipping white wine and enjoying some always needed sibling coversation. We then hiked further up the hill to reach one of the most stunning panoramas I’ve ever seen of any city, at a lookout point called Miradoura Graca. There’s a beautiful church situated next to a vast courtyard full of tables and chairs and an outdoor bar. We continued our libations and laughter as we admired the terra cotta roof jigsaw puzzle below us, until the sun started setting and our bellies started rumbling again. We made our way through more colorful backstreets and stopped to eat at a Fado restaurant. We couldn’t be sure if it was authentic or a tourist trap, and we didn’t appreciate being shushed when we entered, but regardless, I absolutely loved this experience. We sat in a barely lit clay colored dining room with open doors and windows, listening to a beautiful young woman croon a lover’s lament in deep and dramatic Portuguese. Though I adored this dining experience, Greg and I soon realized that entrees in Portugal are not quite the same as in the U.S., where one can expect various food groups within one entree. The Portuguese entrees seem to focus on just one food group, so we both got our protein servings for the day and then some. Feeling enchanted by the Fado dining experience, I was eager to immerse fully into this festive, dramatic, fun-loving culture. We were planning to finally check in to our room at the hostel but stopped for sangria and people watching at an outdoor carnival of bars and music. We were fully entertained by a gentleman dancing in the main foot traffic path, clearly very pleased with his own moves and no doubt fueled by too much sangria. Greg got an excellent video of this by the way. 

   
    
   
   

 At long last we made it back to the hostel where we were greeted by a growing crowd of young backpackers from nearly every corner of the earth. We learned from Fabio, an outgoing and charming staffer who I actually had heard about from friends of mine who stayed at this same hostel not too long ago, that the pub crawl was about to ensue and that we needed to enlist ourselves in the fun. Though Greg and I feel as if our days of pub crawling may be expired, we had that “why not” mentality that usually comes with the delirium of a first day abroad. Besides, who could dismiss Fabio’s insistence. 

The pub crawl took us through the Bairro Alto, a neighborhood jam packed with trendy, young bars. We met countless people from all over the globe, all of whom were friendly and interesting. Greg and I were certainly the two to turn in earliest of our rowdy and reckless bunch, but I was proud of us for joining their forces after a full day of travel and sightseeing. Later on that evening, or morning I should say, we met our first roommates- a loud and crass group of male Brits. Though I found them slightly obnoxious at first, they did bless us with some hilarious banter that we joked about for the next few days. All in all, it was a truly legendary first day and I couldn’t have asked for a better start to my grand summer adventure abroad. Stay tuned to find out about our day trip to Belem and then to Sintra.