Martin de Alteriis, The Traveling Cartoonist:
|
There should be a recommended list of cities for lovers. A sort of “lover-friendly guide” for romantic getaways. If there were, Lisbon would figure prominently in it.
Now, any guide for lovers would have criteria by which the cities were selected. Some would be chosen for their sights, some for their legends, and some for their marketing. Lisbon would be selected for its romantic atmosphere and the emotions it provokes. Above all, it would qualify because of the ways it nurtures passion and sensuality.
If you go to Lisbon with a new or old love, you’ll walk through its streets hand-in-hand. You stop and kiss. There’s something in the mild Atlantic air, something in the architecture, something in the environment. And you’ll get a lot of encouragement. Many other people will be doing the same. Even the Brits and Germans.
My love and I kissed our way down the multi-tiered escalator at the Baixa-Chiado metro station at about 12:30 on a Friday night. We were so entranced that, at the foot of each of the four escalator tiers, we nearly toppled over. At each and every landing. On the platform, waiting for the train, we embraced shamelessly, but were not the only couple indulging ourselves that way.
Our destination was the Marquis of Piombal square, which is right by the King Edward VII park, a lovely turn of the century affair. Entwined, we slowly made our way around the park, until we finally reached our splendid hotel, where the night staff knowingly but courteously nodded as we attempted to display some decorum in the lobby.
Lisbon is not a grand city. But it’s got oodles of “olde worlde” charm. There are jumbles of winding alleys that date back to the Moors; blocks of pastel buildings constructed after the earthquake of 1755; and stairs that lead up and down the hills. All of these are stages that should stimulate the romantic.
We wandered the city by day and night, reveling in its faded splendors. We admired elaborate displays in small but elegant shops; examined appealing menus outside relaxed and intimate restaurants; snuck down deserted streets and kissed outside baroque churches.
The first night, we dined in a small restaurant in the Bairro Alto, the bohemian “High District,” in the hills above the river. The lights were low, the kitchen was busy, and the place radiated warmth. There were painted blue tiles, known as “azulejos,” on the walls. The clientele was mostly local, consisting of large groups at long tables that looked like they planned to eat and drink all night long. The waiters were relaxed. The food was tasty, inexpensive, and stimulating. The house white wine was divine.
Outside, music and rhythm pervaded the streets, echoed through the alleys, and resounded in the squares. We were treated to Lisbon’s “fado,” melancholy songs delivered by soloists with great presence, accompanied by classical guitars. Their dirges hark back to another era, which seemed appropriate, as many cafes, bars and restaurants look as though they haven’t changed in a hundred years.
Fitting into the past is part of the fun. You and your paramour can gaze at one another in a variety of antique settings. Some have gilded pillars, wooden panels and classical paintings while others have old beams and rough eighteenth century brickwork. Regardless of the establishment, all the couples around you, it seems, are also extremely close, locked together as though in a smooth, slow dance.
The second night, we sat outside the café ‘A Brasiliera,’ and were entertained by a busker who preferred uplifting tunes like "Everything's going to be alright," and “You are my sunshine,” to Fado. He was a short, pleasant-featured man, eager for tips, but in the nicest possible way. After an hour or so, he walked over to us. “I don’t like to ask for money so quickly,” he said rather us disingenuously, “But I must go now; my throat is getting hoarse.” Nevertheless, for a modest tip, he sang yet another silly romantic song.
Our meanderings through the city also took us to the vantage points that overlook the river estuary, which the Portuguese call “miradouros.” The miradouros are little parks with benches, tiles, low walls, and terraces. Looking over the river Tagus, we remembered that Lisbon is the most westerly city in continental Europe and that the Portuguese Discoverers of the sixteenth century sailed to Brazil and Angola and Goa and Macau. In the miradouros, we saw dark and fair couples, some just warming to each other, some embracing passionately, and some contemplating the sun sparkling below. It felt as if everyone was thinking of someplace far and distant. We found an empty spot on a low wall, and nuzzled each other, happy to dream of bold and daring adventures.
From the miradouro, we went back to our hotel one last time. As we had an evening flight, so asked if we could stay in our room until the late afternoon. “Sure,” the receptionist replied with a wink and a smile. At four o’clock we called down and asked if we could stay longer. This time there was a moment’s hesitation, but the answer was still positive. Lisbon is definitely for lovers.
Sidebar:
Getting there: We flew Portugal’s national airline, TAP, which has direct flights from New York. Most major international carriers fly to Lisbon from the United States with a least one stopover. From Lisbon’s airport, it’s about $20 taxi ride to the city center.
Where to stay: We stayed in Le Meridien, which overlooks the King Edward VII park. Many popular tourist hotels are in this area, including the Ritz-Intercontinental, the Fenix, the Sheraton and the Capitol. Lisbon’s metro is close by, and it’s only a few stops to the historic parts of the city. Hotel prices in this area tend to range from about $100 to $200 per night for two people.