Thursday 23rd
It was dark when we began our journey to Lisbon. 05:30 on a cold January morning. That’s one of the reasons we had chosen to do this, to escape the long winter misery that is January in the north of England.
For once our journey was smooth and uninterrupted. Well, apart from a bit of unscheduled turbulence.
Owing to Ryanair’s money-making scams we couldn’t sit together. So I spent most of the flight writing about our disastrous bathroom renovation. A 1.5 hour essay then disappeared into the either because my phone was in flight mode and the post hadn’t saved!
When we arrived in Lisbon it was dull but fairly warm. A 20 minute taxi ride took us to our hotel. It was a hairy journey, and an introduction to the wacky races style of transport life in Portugal.
The hotel was comfortable, clean, but basic. We checked in, freshened up, then went in search of refreshments.
Jill’s research had found quite a few craft ale bars. The Canil was good, the Sputnik was now a lager bar, and the third was okay.
We had planned to visit the O Coradhino restaurant for a meal, a place that had rave reviews on Google. It was full, so we went to The Fam Kitchen a few doors down which also had some good mentions. It was a friendly family run place, with decent prices and good food.
Friday 24th
Breakfast at the buffet was definitely not a highlight of the trip. We had really been spoiled during our visit to the Waterfront in Malta the previous month. This offering was a very poor comparison.
After a not inconsiderable amount of confusion at the ticket machine, we set off for the old town on the metro.
We enjoyed just wandering for a while, along streets lined with souvenir shops and restaurants, before making our way to the stop to ride the famous 28 tram line. There was a decent sized queue, where we got chatting to a couple from Canada. After around 20 minutes we were on our way.
It really was quite an experience riding this old tram, through winding streets that were so narrow at times you could put your arm out and touch the walls. I wondered how many people might have been taken out as they stepped out of their doors.
We should really have stayed on until the terminus, but jumped off early to visit St George’s Castle. We grabbed a coffee and a custard tart before making our way up the hills and steps to reach our poorly signposted destination. The castle ruins were unremarkable, but kept us occupied for some time. Then it was back down to recommence the tram journey.
I followed my instincts on the way back down, taking an alternative route. I made the mistake of choosing some steps that took us so far down that we had to walk back uphill again. But we found the tram tracks. The only problem was that we forgot which side of the road we were on, and ended heading in the wrong direction, missing out on the larger part of the route. We could have got off and picked up a tram on the other side, but we were both tired so headed back to base camp and had a couple of beers.
We were determined to eat at the O Coradhino tonight, so we had one drink at the Canil and arrived shortly after its opening time. The prices in this place were very good, with the most expensive (and very nice) bottle of wine only costing £13. Meals were generally around the £10 mark. We were in for a big disappointment however, as the food was terrible. My pork fillet was three pieces of hammered shoe leather, with sautéed potatoes that were more like tough crisps. It was accompanied by two large slices of salad tomato, grated carrot and rice. Jill’s scabbard fish was served whole, with big chunks of plain boiled carrot and potato. She squeamishly picked at the fish but left most of the plate untouched.
We were both still hungry, so went back to the Canil and ordered some chips to go with our beers.
Saturday 25th
It was curiously quiet on Saturday morning. The crossroads next to our hotel, which was normally a melee of horn-beeping drivers was almost deserted.
We intended to get the metro to visit the Belem Tower, but we were amazed to find it closed on a weekend. Instead, we took a longer walk to the 15a tram terminus, which proved to be a much more pleasant journey than the underground.
The tower was an amazing structure, built on the beach, I’m amazed that it hadn’t sunk over the years. It was built as a fortress, but was architecturally stunning.
Nearby there was a war museum which we spent an hour or so wandering around. It was interesting but a lot of information was only in Portuguese.
Following that, we walked along the seafront with the intention of visiting an amazing looking monastery. Unfortunately, Jill was ill with a tummy upset and we had to quickly order an Uber back to the hotel.
A little later, we headed back out to ride the Bica funicular. Google navigation led is through a very winding route and we ended up at the top of the hill instead of the bottom. Making our way down, we spent far too long waiting in a small queue, and paid €4.20 each to be packed in like sardines. We were all crammed in and sweating for about 12 minutes or more before the thing finally got moving. It was a relief to get off, and not an experience I would recommend.
Refreshment was urgently needed. The 12 minute walk to the Queen Ale House seemed to take a tortuous half an hour, climbing steep cobbled streets and passing through some very unsavoury neighbourhoods. I wasn’t confident of finding what we were looking for. Eventually we found it, and both immediately ordered a pint of a local IPA which quickly disappeared.
Instead of going back to change, we opted to stay out for a few more drinks, finishing with a visit to the Luka Thai restaurant. The food there was great and a good finish to our stay.
We could have done with one more day in Lisbon, but had to be up at 7 to begin our journey back to the cold rain of Manchester. It’s definitely a place worth visiting, though very hard on the legs. To see the best of it you need to do a lot of walking, and as the hotel receptionist said, “We have a gym here but you don’t need to use it, Lisbon is a workout out in itself!”
