Road to Iberia VII...
...14 March, Friday: We met the Sobrinos at the Samay Hostel and found that Ems was still asleep. So Joey went with us to the 3 de Oro for pan y café. Then back to the Samay to get Ems. While Joey attempted to rouse Ems Carmen and I started talking to a guy fixing the computer in the common room. He was Argentinian but had lived 12 years in Spain. He also spoke excellent English. I think he was the owner of the Samay. It was an interesting conversation.
When Ems was ready we took off for the Alcazar - the real one, not the restaurant. It was an amazing place filled with elaborate Muslim carvings and stone work. In some places the Arabic writing had been painted over with the coat of arms of Leon and Castile. But if you looked the Arabic influence was all over the place. A metaphor for southern Spain.
Then it was time to get a cab for the bus station. Our cabby wanted to talk - a lot - even before he knew either of us could speak Spanish. Or maybe Carmen just looks like she ought to be able to speak Spanish. First he talked about the weather and then moved on to how awful young people were these days. Carmen teased him that his parents had probably said the same to him when he was young. "No! No!": things really had gotten worse, and he began to give details of depraved behavior, much of which sounded like old news from America.
The bus trip back to Lisbon was interesting. A nice new clean bus, a smooth tip, but the driver seemed a little uptight, wanting to hurry everyone along and move on. He even did this at the lunch stop. Then it was dark and we were moving through the metro district of Lisbon when he suddenly made an exit off the superhighway, pulled down through a little neighborhood and made a big loop, popping back up on the highway at the same spot, but going in the opposite direction. Every now and then he would turn on the light for a few seconds. I joked that he was lost and trying to read the map.
Then we realized that it wasn't a joke: he actually was lost. He got on the phone and got someone to talk him in. We were a bit late, but still got off the bus about 9 pm. We came back to our same hotel and spoke to Sr Parada, the desk clerk who collects American quarters. Walked all over the place looking for some place open to eat and finally found a Cervejaria. It was very Portuguese, not touristy at all and the food was excellent. Although I don't think you can go wrong if you order seafood in Lisbon. Besides, the sangria was wonderful.
15 March: Our last day in Lisbon, a pretty one. We had our usual big breakfast at the hotel of scrambled eggs and bacon with lots of juice and coffee. Then we decided to take the Metro down to Baixa-Chiada and walked dowen to the Praça Commercio.
We caught an electric street car that was packed. The local people were very sweet about giving us some help finding it. We traveled what seemed like a long way to Belem which was once a separate community but since the 19th century has been part of Lisbon. We walked up to the big monastery there and spent quite awhile wandering through it. It was impressive but I think I prefer the Arabic style of the Alcazar in Sevilla. From there we went down the street to a place to eat. Another good meal - this one relatively light.
After lunch we went down to the riverside through a park like area. Lots of young black men wearing bright red T-shirts were working there. Carmen finally said that they were setting up for a big marathon race for Sunday.
When we got down to the river we saw the giant sculpture of the great Portuguese heroes and conquerors. It was overly grandiose and triumphalist for a small, modest, and poor country. Still, in some ways they deserve it perhaps.
From there we caught a bus back the way we had come on the street care. Some Italian girls had gotten on with us. While we were waiting one had come up to look at the bus map right behinds and said immediately in English "Sorry. Excuse me" to get around me. I don't know whether we simply looked like English speakers or she didn't know any Portuguese and thought she'd try English.
We walked up to the Cortes Ingles, a chain store like an upscale Target, only much bigger. We went looking for a simple T-shirt so I would have something to wear the next day, but they were all so very expensive. Finally found a nice dress shirt 50% off which at $30 was still cheaper than the not very appealing T-Shirts. Got back to our room, ate at the same Chinese restaurant that Joey liked so much, and that was pretty much all of our great trip to Iberia.
...14 March, Friday: We met the Sobrinos at the Samay Hostel and found that Ems was still asleep. So Joey went with us to the 3 de Oro for pan y café. Then back to the Samay to get Ems. While Joey attempted to rouse Ems Carmen and I started talking to a guy fixing the computer in the common room. He was Argentinian but had lived 12 years in Spain. He also spoke excellent English. I think he was the owner of the Samay. It was an interesting conversation.
When Ems was ready we took off for the Alcazar - the real one, not the restaurant. It was an amazing place filled with elaborate Muslim carvings and stone work. In some places the Arabic writing had been painted over with the coat of arms of Leon and Castile. But if you looked the Arabic influence was all over the place. A metaphor for southern Spain.
Then it was time to get a cab for the bus station. Our cabby wanted to talk - a lot - even before he knew either of us could speak Spanish. Or maybe Carmen just looks like she ought to be able to speak Spanish. First he talked about the weather and then moved on to how awful young people were these days. Carmen teased him that his parents had probably said the same to him when he was young. "No! No!": things really had gotten worse, and he began to give details of depraved behavior, much of which sounded like old news from America.
The bus trip back to Lisbon was interesting. A nice new clean bus, a smooth tip, but the driver seemed a little uptight, wanting to hurry everyone along and move on. He even did this at the lunch stop. Then it was dark and we were moving through the metro district of Lisbon when he suddenly made an exit off the superhighway, pulled down through a little neighborhood and made a big loop, popping back up on the highway at the same spot, but going in the opposite direction. Every now and then he would turn on the light for a few seconds. I joked that he was lost and trying to read the map.
Then we realized that it wasn't a joke: he actually was lost. He got on the phone and got someone to talk him in. We were a bit late, but still got off the bus about 9 pm. We came back to our same hotel and spoke to Sr Parada, the desk clerk who collects American quarters. Walked all over the place looking for some place open to eat and finally found a Cervejaria. It was very Portuguese, not touristy at all and the food was excellent. Although I don't think you can go wrong if you order seafood in Lisbon. Besides, the sangria was wonderful.
15 March: Our last day in Lisbon, a pretty one. We had our usual big breakfast at the hotel of scrambled eggs and bacon with lots of juice and coffee. Then we decided to take the Metro down to Baixa-Chiada and walked dowen to the Praça Commercio.
We caught an electric street car that was packed. The local people were very sweet about giving us some help finding it. We traveled what seemed like a long way to Belem which was once a separate community but since the 19th century has been part of Lisbon. We walked up to the big monastery there and spent quite awhile wandering through it. It was impressive but I think I prefer the Arabic style of the Alcazar in Sevilla. From there we went down the street to a place to eat. Another good meal - this one relatively light.
After lunch we went down to the riverside through a park like area. Lots of young black men wearing bright red T-shirts were working there. Carmen finally said that they were setting up for a big marathon race for Sunday.
When we got down to the river we saw the giant sculpture of the great Portuguese heroes and conquerors. It was overly grandiose and triumphalist for a small, modest, and poor country. Still, in some ways they deserve it perhaps.
From there we caught a bus back the way we had come on the street care. Some Italian girls had gotten on with us. While we were waiting one had come up to look at the bus map right behinds and said immediately in English "Sorry. Excuse me" to get around me. I don't know whether we simply looked like English speakers or she didn't know any Portuguese and thought she'd try English.
We walked up to the Cortes Ingles, a chain store like an upscale Target, only much bigger. We went looking for a simple T-shirt so I would have something to wear the next day, but they were all so very expensive. Finally found a nice dress shirt 50% off which at $30 was still cheaper than the not very appealing T-Shirts. Got back to our room, ate at the same Chinese restaurant that Joey liked so much, and that was pretty much all of our great trip to Iberia.
posted by Clemens | 5:46 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home