Lisbon to Porto

We arrived in Lisbon fairly refreshed, I'm always waiting for Shayne to drop on international trips since he doesn't sleep on planes. I'm the person that can kinda sleep, but also does the startling awakening with a slight kick and a shocked look. Then I laugh at it. There has to be a word for what that is. I'll look it up later.

I was ready to maneuver us through as needed, go team! We easily got a cab and our luggage, the airport really seemed to have it together nicely. Good signage, clean. Even from the plane everything looked clean. Shayne was still totally awake, I don't know how.

We zipped through the sunlight highways ported through a tunnel or two, people were at bus stops waiting, laundry hanging, general life. There was a lot of graffiti. But it was so clean, there wasn't a sad or unhappy vibe anywhere. We were ported through city roads onto tiny cobblestone streets, deposited swiftly and happily onto the doorstep of Casa dell'Arte Club House. It took a minute to figure out where the bell was, it seemed we were ringing into a fortress door. The door popped open and we were greeted with Miguel, a young Portuguese man with glorious emo hair and a smile under his mask.

He welcomed us slightly downward, one step, into a cool, slightly dark, cobblestoned entrance. Adjusting to the light, I was greeted with gleaming speckled rock swirling under my feet, stone walls and modern art. A velvet couch and ottoman was the perfect spot to set luggage as we spoke with Miguel about the restorations happening on the property. We were delighted to meet David who was the artist working on their new to be opened art museum/installation. It was Saturday morning, the opening was Tuesday. David was a curly haired, wiry character who warmly welcomed us.

Being brought around the property, we were the only guests that night. David was staying to finish up his art installation next to the entrance, and the back garden's massive mural. Up the cool, dim stairs with more glittery modern art, we were brought to a gorgeous blue tiled kitchen, a dining room with gold leaf and gold artwork, and our room. The place is basically yours, Miguel said, as he dropped us the castle-y set of keys. This was just the first night and I already could tell that card key systems were really needed, we continued to really struggle with the knack of all our keys from that point on. These were by far the most fascinating but throughout the trip they all had a charm, like with a little ball lever that extended the key, one that was electronic but also just normal, or looking like a castle key and cactus mated.

Our room was gorgeously done in artworks that looked like antique portraits but upon close inspection were dotted and lined in a very subtle modern art way. We had the most beautiful bathroom I've ever seen, lined completely in blue and white Portuguese tiles.

When we asked Miguel where to go for dinner, he suggested the place down the street that had a focus on cogumelos, mushrooms. I like mushrooms and he said it was also 'kinda weird', which sold me. We went in search a bit of the wrong direction, and came to find after a circle it was right down the street.

Also came to find it wasn't open until 7:30pm at at that point it was maybe 5:30pm. We'd been up since 8am or so Pacific time and I didn't want to do the math on what that really meant. We ate a snack under the trees nearly under the balconies of our own living room, apparently, and the windows of our room. We went back upstairs to shuffle around and wait until dinner, we both fell asleep by 6pm.

I woke at 2am and snuck from the perfectly dark room to the kitchen. I bumbled around and made Chamomile tea, looking through the windows see David's progress on the mural. I sipped tea and enjoyed the living room, filled with white furniture, mirrors, and gleaming chandeliers. At two in the morning until about six, I luxuriated in it's bright and soothing light, watching movies and reading about mitocondrial DNA.

The next 'real, normal' part of the morning, we languished in the sun with David between a few parked cars in front of the hotel, he'd just arrived for work and stopped to talk for a bit. We spoke of what we do for a living, what we are looking for in life next while the market buzzed next to us. We both were looking to relocate to Europe to take advantage of the reasonably priced higher education, as we both wanted to go back to school, and we also know we want to retire abroad. We were to find in this trip that Portugal is perfect for us because of the restoration and experience it's undergone. We were excited to learn more of the story from the locals, and hopefully see if we could find a useful place for ourselves within it, to learn from it.

After talking for at least thirty minutes, we didn't want to keep him from all his work. He had a lot to do before Tuesday. We walked along the market that had been there for hundreds of years, full of Portugal made tchotchkes, small estate and yard sales, all were filled within about the size of a parking space for a smart car. Some had actual paint, as I think they were for parking, others seemed just understood, like that person had passed down the space.

The market snaked around the shady streets of Campo de Santa Clara, under the National Pantheon, leading down to the train station, Santa Apolonia, where we were to head in a few hours to go to Porto. Cork purses and shoes, which I'd soon seen everywhere, silver items, furniture, tiles, books, items you'd see on apps like Thrifted. This is the place I'd go for house goods when I relocate, something like this. Junk to treasures, everywhere.

Miguel had told us on check in that there'd be a market every Saturday and Tuesday, which to us sounded like a small farmers market. Not even close. This market is called "Feira da Ladra," often thought to mean "Thieves' Market" (in Portuguese, "ladra" is a woman thief) but it actually derives from "ladro," a bug or a flea found in antiques, apparently. A market of this type is thought to have been in place in Lisbon since the 12th Century, and the name "Feira da Ladra" was first mentioned in the 17th Century or so. I'd seen the setup starting around 4am or so, and had checked on it as we were waking up and getting ready, but it was still so surprising to see so much brought to life twice a week.

Shayne and I walked across and around, I was testing the cobblestones, I'd read about how slippery they were. Seemed fine, it did make me slow down and appreciate how quiet it was. We were in the middle of the city. We wandered through the market and set eyes on the train station, moving in and out of the small road to accommodate market goers.

We wandered back to the hotel to grab our bags and check out before 11am, then back down through the now known market and hills to the train station. We fairly quickly after buying tickets were whisked through Lisbon, into the countryside, along the beach then back to the interior a bit, to be delivered to the nearest train station to Porto.