Lisboa was different, not what I imagined.  I don’t know what I thought it’d be – more “European” perhaps, wealthier, for sure, maybe even a little conceited from its new-found travel fanfare.  I guess I just figured that, like many recently-recognized tourist treats, I’d be hit with a posh shopping district and fusion restaurants.

Smiling, I stand corrected.

Setting foot into Portugal’s main city was almost like sneaking into someone’s home unnoticed.  Like I wasn’t even there, but in a good way.  It’s a classic, warm town; metropolitan in practice, but still quaint.  The incredibly diverse people have in common an honest, modest aura, a “not interested in bothering you or being bothered by you” sort of thing, balanced by helpfulness if you do have to ask a question.  It makes for a humbling and wonderfully unpretentious time.

It also equals a tangibly intimate visual for the tourist, without window dressing.  The area itself is old, and it looks old.  Sintra, a nearby town I visited, features a Moorish castle dating back to the 9^th century.  Much of Lisbon’s population seems to have silver hair, and still speaks French (reminiscent of France invading the country in years past).  You’ll see menus that feature items cooked in blood, an essentially eliminated culinary tradition (for obvious reasons). The houses have peeling paint and walls propped up by construction to keep them from collapse.   Building tiles lose their color from centuries in the sun.

And while we’re on the topic, Lisboa’s trademark tiles take a top spot on my to-see list.  I’m a sucker for “art” in unexpected places, and found the imagery, lines, curves and colors of the small squares that cover Lisbon’s buildings and sidewalks to be extraordinary.  Sometimes it was in the intricacy of a design, other times in its simplicity and meditative repetition.

When I wasn’t taking pictures of tiles, though, chances are I was walking up and down, and up and down, the unbelievably hilly urban terrain.  Or I was riding the old, wooden tram line throughout and around the city, slithering along the narrow streets, passing old women carrying classic pocketbooks and walking with canes.  Or laying out with new friends on the fun-filled beaches nearby.  Or drinking great local wine at some welcoming nook hidden in the backstreets of Barrio Alto – the place to wander, lose your way and yourself, and worry about the return route to home later.

Anyway, you get the point.  And just in case you don’t, picture this:

Drinks

Pena Palace in Sintra

Architecture

Portuguese Boy; Portuguese Man

Street Tiles

Lisboa Tile Shop