Getting there

These flights are always so dreary. Because of the time difference you leave Brazil in the late afternoon, are expected to fall into a dreamless sleep after - in my case - a soy hamburger with assorted veggies, including cooked beetroot, with a nice slab of tofu for dessert (note: cancel order for vegetarian meal) at 8pm. You're woken up around 12.30 am for your landing about an hour later. Voila, you're in Lisbon, where the day is starting at 5.30am local time.
We're in luck when we stand groggily at the Tivoli Hotel counter. There is a room available at this early hour, where we can sleep for a while in soft white sheets with blue trimmings. Later we shower and move out for our first view of Lisbon. A long walk down Av. Liberdade and a nice Nicola coffee & cheese tosta stop on the way. We notice an charming old music store 'Amalia', where a lady speaks passionately about two new fado singers, both of whose latest cd's we buy. Then we reach the boarded up Praça do Comercio (where in 1908 the Portuguese shot to death King Carlos I and his eldest son!) and we take a tram to Belem. The tram is jam packed mainly with tourists. We stand in front of an skinny old man, seated at the window, who speaks with great passion to a lady standing behind us. Sounds like he is saying 'fucker' and we wonder about that, but what he is trying to say, is 'pickpocket'. He is relieved, understandably, when we finally understand. He points to one, who immediately gets off the tram looking annoyed, but as he exits, another enters. We can watch him at our leisure. He's around 3o, a bit unkempt and with a roomy shoulderbag slung across his chest. His eyes dart here and there looking for likely victims and he moves through the wagon to place himself in the crush of people getting out. A useful introduction to Lisbon, we think. We always feel so safe away from Rio de Janeiro.
It is hot when we arrive in Belem and we decide the famous pasteis will be our first stop. The 'pastelaria' turns out to be a rabbit warren of room after room full of tourists munching pasteis behind a relatively small store front. We find a seat in the very last seating area and devour our crunchy, flaky, moist WONDERFUL six pasteis - 3 each - in the blink of an eye. Things have changed a lot since our visit here in 1985, where we got drenched crossing to the tower, and only then had our pasteis. This time we cannot see the tower, as we walk through a little park towards the river. Along the coast runs a busy highway, lined with rails. In the far distance we think we may see the very top of the tower, but then we are distracted by The Centro Cultural de Belem, where we see the not so interesting Berardo collection. After this we grab a cab back to the hotel to rest up for dinner. We remember the stunning circular pool set behind the hotel on a raised area and settle there for a while, lounging in beige linen recliners with soft aqua colored towels. We sip our vinho verde and beer and watch the swimmers, who all yelp a little as they get into the water. Only Oswaldo swims...
At sunset we hit the Sky Bar - a chique lounge set on the hotel roof, where we recline on pillows and take in not only the beautiful pinkish hued view, but also interesting drinks made with, respectively, red and white port. Thus fortified we venture out later on foot - and with sensible shoes - to find bustling Casa de Alentejo, housed in a weird Moorish 3-story residence, where Oswaldo has bacalhau cooked with red peppers and black olives and I a delicious Acorda Alentejo (a green broth, flavored with cumin and garlic and with soaked thin slices of country loaf). And of course a chilled glass of Vinho Verde. Link to photos: http://picasaweb.google.com/schateaubriand/