Armed only with our plastic yellow keys we ventured out yesterday on a quick tour of Lisbon. We clambered on to a coach, which was quite high for Albina but even more difficult for some of our elderly fellow passengers with walking sticks, Looking back it was the first time I could actually take a proper look at the ship. As we had disembarked through the lowest deck it now seemed gigantic, but it had docked between two other cruise liners even larger and more overwhelming in size. Our Portuguese guide, Tina, certainly made a good impression.
The first port of call was the Hieronymites Monastery, rebuilt by King Manoel I in the XVIth century with all the riches from the Portuguese trade with India. It was alarge building, almost the size of the British Parliament, but sumptuous in detail, with an ornate entrance, but beautiful subtle decorations and pinnacles along the walls. There was an long queue formed to visit the legendary beautiful cloisters and large sections of the building were now occupied by two museums, one of archaeology, the other of naval history, which in the cas of Portugal, was of real world signifivance. Beyond that was a beautiful Catholic church contemporary to the monastery, with the faiithful just walking in for their Sunday mass. There was no time to go inside but the cafe opposite the front entrance to the monastery showed post cards showing the lavish late Gothic interior of the church. On the other side of the road was a massive white nwely built fortress-like building supposedly a cultural centre, which houses the local design museum. Pity that the sense of design affected only the contents and not the outer structure. It reminded me of the brutalist architecture of the National Theatre, with all the glorious theatrical sensations experienced inside, in direct contrast to the horrors of the building perched over the Thames.
After a 15 minute break we were driven by coach to a square where we picked up the promised tram. Red in colour, this wooden structure looked ancient, solid and reliable, with just the right sense of reliabilty with which which could enjoy an adventurous ride through the winding and undulating streets of old Lisbon. We were greeted by a pretty young lady, beautifully dressed in a bright red national costume. Once the journey had started she served us glasses of port and those lovely little custard pots invented in medieval Lisbon, the nata. A lovely experience, especially as the port was served liberally by this beautifully adorned maiden, so appealing in sight to us wrinklies, while the nata tasted even sweeter than in a London Nando's.The journey in the tram lasted around 45 minutes, and it was a true joy ride up and down through the narrow streets as the tram appeared to brush against pedestrians on 12 inch wide pavements and street cafe tables full of tourists, almost appearing to touch them, but without reducing its speed. The journey may have seen haphazard but it was smooth enough on its rails for us to be able to hold our glasses port without spilling anything. Tina had warned we could drink as much as we liked provided we were sober enough to be able to get off the tram at the end of the journey. She pXointed out various features but it was all too bewildering to take in first time round, and certainly I had completely lost all sense of direction. The main feature I remmber was the national Parliament building with its classical facade, and the arge number of house frontages covered in native Moorish ceramic tiles. Suddenly we emerged from this labyrinth of ancient streets onto the wider seried streets of post earthquake XVIIIth century Lisbon, and stopped at Rossio Square.
We picked up the coach again at this square and proceed along the wide Avenida de Liberdade to the Square of the Restorers, which commemorated the uprising in 1640 which led to Portugal recovering its independence from Spain. We drove further along this wide tree lined boulevard, surrounded by elegant shops and beautiful frontages of bright ceramic tiles, and past the massive Pombal monument, displaying the proud enlightened despot who helped rebuild Lisbon after the destruction of the massive earthquake in 1755, as momentous a moment in the history of Lisbon as the Great Fire of 1666 was to London. The monument also showed a beautiful statue of an upright woman symbolizing the rebirth of the city from the intense earthquake tremors and accompanying fire and flood. We reached the pinnacle of the Avenida de Libersade at the beautifully lansdcaped Edward VII Park from the higher part of which we could catch a glimpse of the glorious vista of the Portugal's capital overlooking the Tagus and bookmarked with the ancient hill fort, the Castelo de Sao Jorge, on the left and the massive April 24 bridge on the right. We drove back down into the restored city centre by way of the Aurea (Golden) Street passing through a richly adorned arcg that opens up onto the strategic riverside square called the Praca do Comercio, surrounded a three sides with classical porticoes fronting various government offices. At the centre of this square was a statue of King Joseph 1st on a horse. This was the king who appointed Pombal to rescue the city. Next to it was the municipal square with the neo-classical Town Hall and centred around the a thin white monunent symbolizing justice. Bizarrely, it was site of the ancient pillory where the bodies of executed prisoners were displayed.
After that the coach turned towards the port and deposited us at the cargo terminal. Unfortunately that building was being rebuilt so that none of the escalators were working. There were the usual security checks through metal gates but we had to go up a very steep slope around the building which was very discomforting to those of my frailer fellow travellers with their walking sticks and not so easy for Albina either. When we reached the ship we were starving. There were no promised refreshments on the journey (port and nata not included), but we managed to find late aftenoon tea at the poolside where I enjoyed a delicious fish and chips and Albina had grilled tuna with salad which was just as tasty. At least here by the poolside the catering manager looks like a character and a ladies man and is able to serve us with a merry grufness that I found refreshing. Within half an hour of our boarding the vessel it had cast off.
We sailed off under the immense 3 kilometer long April 24 bridge. It was a colossal suspension bridge built in the days of the dictator Salazar by the same engineers responsible for the Golden Gate bridge in San Francisco. It had a railway suspended under the roadway. The cars moved along like little white pebbles as we approached it and it was an extraordinary feeling after having dominated the quayside that our vessel could fit so snugly underneath the bridge. As the evening approached I sat in the Observatory over the prow, up on Deck 9, with Albina, while we watched our ship slip by the explorers memorial and the Belem Tower, used by Prince Henry the Navigator, to launch his many ships and steer his mariners to the Cape of Good Hope, to India, to Brazil, and beyond. Further out lay the Atlantic again as our ship made its night time progress towards the Mediterranean Sea.
All in all, it was a whirlwind tour, but we saw a lot and both agreed that we would like to come back and sample the culture of Lisbon again. If only there were not so many hills.
We had eaten so well, but so late in the afternoon, that when it came to dinner Albina did not have the appetite to each. So I went to our apportioned table no. 93 in the Borealis Restaurant and had my meal on my own. The concerned waiter asked after Albina and was concerned that he had not seen us for two nights, so I gave hm an account of events. Certainly the service in Borealis is polite and efficient, but with a certain overeagerness to please. Perhaps that is for the best. The female waitresses are all of Asian appearance, all seem to wear the same smile, as if painted on, and use similar cosmetics, and all have their brushed back and tied in a bow. All very practical, but it is a bit like being served by an advanced A.I. I suppose with time their individual personalities will develop as we all get more familiar with each other.
I was very disappointed to pick up on my i-phone that Iga Swiatek had lost the final match to Krejcikova at the Dubai Tennis Championships. Later that evening, while Albina watched a film on our TV screen, I chose to obviate my misery over Swiatek by relishing another session of general knowledge quiz with the two couples who form my current team. Only nine and a half points out of 15 this time, but the winners only scored twelve and a half, so again, we were not humiliated. In the course I had to quickly calculate how many miuntes in a week (100080), and how many letters in supercalifragilisticexpialidotius (34) and the half point for instance was to get the real name of John Wayne, including his middle name. The half mark was to name his first name and surname Marion Morrison, but the full mark was awarded if you knew his middle name, Robert. (who knew?). One curious moment. The quizmistress asked suddenly where there was anyone fromLondon as the next question was based on cockney rhyming slang. Imagine my surprise when, in a crowded room of about sixty people, I was the only persona to put my hand up. What's more, I still got the answer about the rhyming slang wrong. With such trivia is a merry time spent in good company.
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