Lisbon

Slippery cobbled streets in the capital.


Shoes are to be bought locally. Yours will send you flying to the amusement of locals. When it rains, bums slam the ground and bounce up through embarrassment.


Trams shudder throughout and confirm the cliché. A few Euros on a 1950s number 28 will send you along with other tourists to see cats slinking around the vast graveyard. Tombs for kings and forgotten fathers.


Upon the hill, the view is breathtaking. Sun shimmers and compliments the stucco buildings. Red roofs and open windows cool the summer attack.


Boy, this road is bubbling. Over forty degrees and the streets are empty. Cooled bottled water heats nicely. Some shops stay open after lunch and the air-conditioning agrees with life.


Young Brazilians make their money - colonialism never sounded so good. English to shame native speakers. Next stop, America.


Streets close in and dilapidated magic proves Saramago right.

There is no sorcery in Paris or Amsterdam. Tourists bolster the economy and pay school fees. Here, mixed souls help one another. The end of Europe and a melting pot of togetherness.


Dinner does not disappoint. ‘El-Rei Dom Frango.’ It is the size of your kitchen. Two cooks fire sweat and smoke throughout and never stop. Waiters pamper unceremoniously and take care. They stretch above diners to fetch wine glasses. Space is at a premium but it works. How they manage, nobody knows. It is a triumph. Fresh fish and octopus without pretension. 


This time, it is winter. Home freezes under a blanket of ice and the flight is an escape.


A Christmas market dominates the city centre and enjoys the notes and coins. Cards mean tax and eyes light up at the sight of cash.


A world away. People at home hunker down and fire the heating, whilst down here, musicians fill the street corners with cover versions. The homeless whistle when trying to find a bed for the night. Vans offload cardboard and tarpaulin to help the needy. There is hope in the misery.


Supermarkets spill goodness. No amount of hands could fill the appetite. Bags will do but you try your hardest.


“Obrigado.”


“Não tem de quê.”


“Sorry, what?”


“É estrangeiro mas fala português?”


“I’m sorry. I don’t understand. 


She places a hand on mine, smiles and seeks help.


Heads turn but we manage. We always manage.


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