Lisbon, Portugal. I arrived in the early eve, and yes, as promised my hotel was close to the airport, but this also meant it was wayyy out of town. No biggie, I was being a bit extravagant staying in a hotel ( without the s ) anyway. So, that night, instead of exploring these slighty seedy outskirts, I loaded up on goodies at the local store and had myself a little solo hotel picnic, complete with wine out of the toothbrush cup! all class...
The next morning, I transferred to a funky little hostel in the heart of Lisbon. It was run by an effusive, loud , fabulous portugese woman- Tatiana who was young and inviting ´my home is your home!' ( despite it not actually being her home!) The window next to my bed looked out directly onto the cobblestone alleyway below and by day, it was fascinating, but by night it was all mood lighting and accordian players and chinking of wine glasses- so European!!
For the next few days, I soaked up the atmosphere of the endless alleyways, frequented the beach and took myself on a few very enjoyable dinner dates...I discovered I´m quite a good conversationlist- hah!
Despite loving the vibe, and relishing yet another fascinating culture, some of the men made me feel a little uncomfortable.. whether it was because it was my first real time solo, or whether Portugese men ( as a gross generalisation) are simply more out there, I´m not sure...
Mostly it was harmless, a waiter giving me the bill and proclaiming, ' my table has been so much more beautiful with you sitting at it!' ha!, but sometimes it felt a bit more threatening.
One time I was sunbaking solo on a fairly busy ( but still very roomy!)beach , just out of Lisbon, when a middle aged man came and put his stuff down RIGHT next to me. He then proceeded to stare... and stare .... and yep.. still staring! Everytime I glanced his way, he smiled sleazily and slowly winked...ewww! I fantisised about knowing enough Portugese to verbally SLAP HIM IN THE FACE, but seeing as I was limited to very basic spanish, I simply gathered my things and settled on the opposite end of the beach. No biggie in the scheme of things, but a moment that has stuck with me, despite thankfully being overridden by all of the other wonderful Portugese moments.
A few days later, I caught a bus for hours to a little beach town called Portimao. And I instantly fell in love. The hostel was waaay out of town, but I felt like I was on a combination of the best school camp ever and one of my treasured family beach holidays!
I whiled away my nights, cooking up big summer salads in the shared kitchen and drinking wine by the pool or on the balcony overlooking the town. And spent my days, going for big walks and laps in the pool, then bus-ing it to the beach. Here the ocean was literally as aqua as can be and silky smooth, the beach was bordered by picturesque cliff faces and despite being sardined between a million locals, I loved it. I browned up and ate the local salads overlooking the water and just generally loved life.
As a side note.. I may very well have been Portugese OR Spanish in a former life... tourists AND locals stopped me and asked questions/ directions soo often. As soon as I opened my mouth the gig was up, but until then, it was lovely to role play!
After a few days of this rather delicious routine, I snapped myself back into ´on the move´mode and made my way on the early morning bus back to the Lisbon Airport. Next stop .. Morocco!! yeeehaahhhhh!!! xx
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