Location(s): Lisbon, Portugal
Dates travelled: 2nd – 5th May 2024
The trip
Not the first solo trip I’ve ever taken, but the first one where I thought to myself, ‘This travelling shit is all right.’
My last outing, to Fiji, was in January 2024, only months prior. Yet, by April I found myself needing a break from the stale routine of work, gym, and writing I’d adhered to for far too long. Around that period, I was working in construction as a Site Engineer in Milton Keynes, and I was also doing a great deal of ‘deathbed thinking.’ Wondering how I will reflect upon my life when the ferryman comes to take me across the river, and any regrets I may have.
One thing playing on my mind was a conversation I’d had with a colleague a few months earlier.
He said: ‘Nobody ever looks back on their life and wishes they’d worked more.’
Now, I don’t entirely agree with that, as I’m sure there are heaps of people who regret that they never worked harder on that business they wanted to start, or got that summer body, or wrote that novel that springboarded them out of construction and into the movie industry where they lived happily ever after. However, I see his point. And so, during my deathbed thinking, I realised the number of days I’d given to my almost robotic routine, and noticed they all blended into one single day played on repeat. Whilst I am in favour of routine, and see it as the foundation of success, I’d hate to look back on my life and say I saw little outside of a building site. That the most exotic view I ever laid eyes on was a foreign sparky’s arse crack.
This, and the slight feeling of burnout, drove me to book the flight one Tuesday morning.
It was the most short-notice flight I’d ever booked. I did it at work, and remember saying to myself, ‘All I can think about is Portugal. I should not be on a construction site right now, because my mind is not on the job.’
My excitement made the next two weeks painfully slow. Free time was spent researching Lisbon and writing my itinerary.
During preparation I was a severe over-planner. I wish I’d kept my paper itinerary because it would make a good addition to the story. Probably would double the word count though. I planned everything I would do and see down to the minute, including what I would eat at which restaurant and when.
Skip forward to when I arrived at Luton airport. I started my holiday as I meant to go on: Though an introvert, I wanted to stretch my people skills and force myself to become more social whilst travelling. So, I made it my mission to have a conversation with someone before even entering the airport. Anyone who’s tried this will know the expectations, i.e. the other person being rude, annoyed, weirded out, etc. The reality is often the opposite, and was in this case. It set a great tone for the holiday.
By the time I passed through security I was famished, and broke the morning fast with a hearty breakfast at Big Smoke Taphouse whilst I read Eat That Frog. Read it if you’re struggling with productivity, my G. A waitress passing by asked me how I could read with all that noise going on, but the book was absorbing and I loved it.
Day One
I arrived to Lisbon in the early evening and took a couple of buses to my hotel. As someone who has practiced mostly Brazilian Portuguese, the European accent often catches me off-guard, and my first time asking a bus driver for directions or the price of a ticket quickly resulted in him telling me in English. It felt silly to thank him in Portuguese, so I said it in my native tongue and took my seat.
When asking Lisbon bus drivers about ticket prices, an answer you will likely hear is ‘dois e dez’. That’s two and ten – two Euros, ten cents. ‘S’ sounds are more complex in European Portuguese, some being like ours in English, others sounding like a cross between a ‘sh’ and ‘j’. So, ‘dois e dez’ comes out ‘doijsh e dejsh’. You know how in France they say ‘je m’appelle’ or ‘je n’aime pas’? It’s not so different from the ‘je’ part.
I sharpened my linguistic tools again on the lady at reception when I arrived to my hotel, and managed most of the conversation in Portuguese. She gave me my key and I took my bags to my room. I showered and changed, then took a walk around the local area. I was staying at Estrela de Arganil in Arroios, a short walk from the City Centre and Moorish Quarter. The roads I roamed were lined with ‘Pastelarias’ or pastry shops/delis, and the cars in Lisbon were quite dated, giving the area a vintage, nostalgic feel.
I found a cozy restaurant in a lively pedestrianised spot, took a table outside and watched the world go by. Caipirinha was on the drinks menu, and I resolved that caipirinha in Portugal was the next best thing to getting it in Brazil, so ordered that and a burger. My neighbours were chatting in English, but I noticed they both had accents. When I asked, they said they were German exchange students. I want to say that they were studying English in Lisbon, though I don’t remember. When I went inside to pay my bill, I had a great conversation with a waiter. He was the friendliest person I’d met in Lisbon thus far, and his Portuguese was the clearest. I asked him where he was from and he told me: Fortaleza, Brazil. This would prove to be a recurring theme. I love the Portuguese, they are a wonderful people. However, if you meet somebody in Portugal who seems warm and kind beyond reason, I bet you diamonds they’re from Brazil. I concluded my evening by casting a longing eye over the pastries in the windows of pastelarias on my way back to the gaff, and then went to bed ecstatic for the following day.
Day Two
The first full day commenced with a sandwich from a local pastelaria on my way south towards the Castelo do São Jorge. Something that warmed my heart about those small, local coffee shops and delis was the community aspect; people dropping in for their morning espresso, whilst elderly gents sat outside having animated debates.
My first stops were Praça da Figueira and Praça dom Pedro IV, the latter of which had a stage set up and dozens of empty seats covering the square, either preparing for or having just finished a concert.
I took a quick look around, and then went to check out a food spot I’d seen recommended on YouTube: ‘As Bifanas do Afonso.’ Where arguably Portugal’s most beloved sandwich is served. A bifana is pork cutlets in a bread roll, usually eaten with mustard. Afonso’s was another small cubbyhole establishment, with a few stools and a counter running by the window where you could eat your bifana. A vast but shallow pan sat behind the service counter, in which pork was frying in a beige sauce. Truth be told, the visual presentation, whist good, didn’t do the excellent flavours justice. I copped a bifana for around three Euros if memory serves, and ate it looking out the window. A young couple passed by that window. I guessed they were tourists from how they took one look at me chomping into my bifana, made a face, and then turned around and walked back the way they came. Whether it was the bifana or my table manners that scared them away is but a mystery. Either way, it was their loss because that sandwich was mint. Get your arse to Afonso’s if you visit Lisbon.
Charged up on bifana, I took a confusing stroll around the winding, narrow cobblestone streets and, after receiving directions from police officers, arrived at the Castelo do São Jorge. According to Google, this was built in the 11th century under a different name, then retitled over a hundred years later after being captured by King Afonso Henriques. The Afonsos in Portugal seem to do quite well for themselves, and since learning this I have vowed to name my firstborn Afonso, regardless of gender, in the hope that they become a prosperous ruler who can make a delectable pork sanger.
I bought my ticket from the yellow ‘Bilheteira’ and went through the turnstiles straight into a tranquil garden, which had some of the best views of Lisboa, with a sea of clay-tiled roofs and white cement buildings interrupted only by the actual sea, and the ‘Ponte 25 de Abril’ (April 25th Bridge) that leads to Almada.
From there I progressed to the castle itself to admire the condition it’s been kept in, and enjoy more stunning views from the parapets. I met another traveller up on the parapet. She was out seeing sights whilst her friends were in bed suffering hangovers. We exchanged details but nothing came of it. Oh well, life goes on.
I came out of the castle feeling on top of the world. Keeping my historical cap on, I ventured to the ‘Igreja de Santo António’ (Church of Santo António). Old churches, libraries and art galleries always chill me out and put me in a good headspace for thinking. The church was easy on the eye, with its vast stone arches (fantastically maintained like the Castelo do São Jorge), stained-glass windows, and paintings from long ago. You can also pop outside for a view of the city, but it’s not as picturesque as the view from the castle.
Igreja de Santo António
As much as I admire grand old European constructions, I was hoping to stumble across something more upmarket to compliment the city’s historic backdrop. Deus must have been listening because soon after leaving the church I arrived at Rua Augustina. This is a bustling little sector with high-street shopping and a variety of eateries. Whether you want breaky, a snack, or a fancy dinner, Rua Augustina will have something for you.
Now, two things you need to know about the guy writing this: he loves his chocolate, and he especially loves his exotic chocolate. Intermittent fasting and dieting will never weed out the food-lover in me. Once my gaze fell upon the words ‘Chocolataria’ and ‘Ecuador’ I had no choice but to step inside. The wall to my right was lined with a selection of choccy bars, powders, and a hot chocolate dispenser. Opposite was a glass case of truffle balls in every flavour imaginable. I spoke with Davido, who poured me up a cup of hot chocolate and let me sample a couple of pieces. I didn’t want to pig out too much as I’d other foods I wanted to try, but I grabbed a couple of truffle balls including ‘frambuesa’ (raspberry), and ‘caramelo’ (you can translate this one). I remember discussing with Davido the differences between the Portugal and Brazil accents, and joked that Portuguese talk like they’re trying not to move their mouths. He didn’t laugh at that. Minutes later, walking down the Rua Augustina, I went to sip my hot chocolate and the lid popped off, spilling out piping hot liquid cacao all over my face and shorts. Not saying the lid was loose was by design, though I could picture Davido perched on a chocolate throne saying “Mwah-hah-ha!”
Face burnt with chocolate and a brown stain on my shorts, I browsed the shops. It was a sunny day, too, around twenty degrees. Perfect for exploring. My journey took me down to the Arco da Rua Augustina. The other side of the arch opened out into the ‘Praça do Comércio’ (Commercial Square). A whopping great plaza overlooking the beach. Its centrepiece is a statue of Joseph I on a horse, and the surrounding mustard-coloured buildings are occupied by restaurants, event halls and a museum.
West was my direction of travel, so I took the scenic route by the sea, admiring the sand sculptures and all-around beauty of the city. I remember pondering that I might want to live and work here someday, although Lisbon is a little too small for my current taste.
Pink St is a former red-light district that has been converted into something more positive (unless you’re a pimp). As its name hints, the road is bright pink, with dozens of multi-coloured umbrellas hung above. I took a seat at a restaurant there and ordered ‘polvo com batatas assadas’ (octopus with roasted potatoes). Pink St is another fantastic people-watching vantage point. A live band was performing down the street, and beside them, parents danced to the beat with their children. I relished the beautiful European ambience, unable to stop myself comparing it to home and conceding that you just wouldn’t see that on an afternoon in Leicester. The closest thing I can remember to that is when I sat in Maccies near the clock tower, and Ketty Phil was outside boogying his heart out to ‘Rock Around the Clock’ whilst an entourage of roadmen recorded him.
I left Pink St and went back to walking by the sea. I hadn’t gotten far when I came to a dessert shop. Also, my phone was dying. I got a Nutella waffle and charged up, listening to the story of yet another Brazilian about how her life here compared to São Paulo.
LX Factory was next on my list. It took me bloody ages to walk there and my feet were hurting by the time I arrived. I also failed the foodie in me by missing out on the Time-Out Market, but rest assured I shan’t miss it next time.
LX is quirky and modern; in place of commercial high-street brands, it pushes handicraft businesses such as the origami factory. The shop selection, combined with vibrant artwork, make it feel like a celebration of self-expression. Very artsy, very hip. Very demure.
I didn’t actually do much there so can’t shed much light, but deffo go if you’re in Lisbon.
By this point I was bollocksed, but my itinerary was specifically organised to check off all the city sights that I wanted to on my first day. And I had a date with a tart. A custard tart.
Belém wasn’t too much of a walk from LX, and brought me back in time with its grand old structures alike those in Arroios and Rua Augustina. Two highlights were the ‘Padrão dos Descobrimentos (Monument to the Discoveries) and the ‘Mosteiro dos Jerónimos’ (Jerónimos Monastery), though I was there to feast my belly as much as my eyes. And where better to feast than the Rolls Royce of pastelarias: Pastéis de Belém.
I didn’t actually do much there so can’t shed much light, but deffo go if you’re in Lisbon.
By this point I was bollocksed, but my itinerary was specifically organised to check off all the city sights that I wanted to on my first day. And I had a date with a tart. A custard tart.
Belém wasn’t too much of a walk from LX, and brought me back in time with its grand old structures alike those in Arroios and Rua Augustina. Two highlights were the ‘Padrão dos Descobrimentos (Monument to the Discoveries) and the ‘Mosteiro dos Jerónimos’ (Jerónimos Monastery), though I was there to feast my belly as much as my eyes. And where better to feast than the Rolls Royce of pastelarias: Pastéis de Belém.
From the number of people queuing at the takeaway section, you’d think Cristiano Ronaldo himself was serving cakes. Fortunately, their dine-in section is humongous, and so I got a table without much trouble. I took two of their bestselling Portuguese delicacies: One ‘pastel de Nata’ (custard tart), and one ‘pastel de bacalhau’ (cod cake).
Belém is renowned for its pastel de nata, and it was creamy to the point of lethality. I can’t help but think I’d have savoured it more had I not already eaten so much that day.
Pastel de Nata + Pastel de Bacalhau
Belly satisfied, traveller’s spirit still starving, I meandered from the busy roads through peaceful parks until I got to the ‘Jardim da Praça do Império’ (Empire Square Garden). I stopped for a while to listen to a lady playing ‘Take On Me’ by a-ha on the flute. Her performance gathered quite an audience, many of whom were brought to tears by how beautifully she played. If only Ketty Phil had been there to add some kinetic energy to the performance, you’d have a stadium-filler.
Belly satisfied, traveller’s spirit still starving, I meandered from the busy roads through peaceful parks until I got to the ‘Jardim da Praça do Império’ (Empire Square Garden). I stopped for a while to listen to a lady playing ‘Take On Me’ by a-ha on the flute. Her performance gathered quite an audience, many of whom were brought to tears by how beautifully she played. If only Ketty Phil had been there to add some kinetic energy to the performance, you’d have a stadium-filler.
An underpass took me across the road (after a speedy pizza slice) to the Padrão dos Descobrimentos. I got my videos and pictures, but it was necessary to put the phone away and be present for a minute in a fabulous city, amongst people of all backgrounds, who wanted to admire what mankind is capable of through their own eyes like I did.
Three percent was what my phone had left, and eight-point-five kilometres was the distance between me and my hotel. You’re bloody right I ordered an Uber, which arrived just before my final percentage gave out. I battled to maintain conversation with my driver, yet my Portuguese and social batteries were about as dead as my phone, so I kicked back and listened to him tell me in English about the evil Brazilians who were ruining his country. Taxi drivers in general have an uncanny ability to spot the national enemy, don’t they?
I rested for a short while in my hotel, then went down the road to a Chinese restaurant. You’d think, after all I’d eaten, I wouldn’t have much of an appetite. I’ll let the pictures below do the talking.
Bao buns, noodles, shredded beef. You name it, I yammed it. I went to bed with a delightful trifecta: A food coma, fully sapped glycogen stores from the day’s walking, and the mentality to do it allllll again tomorrow.
Then tomorrow came.
Day Three
My plan was to go to Sintra, a countryside spot neighbouring Lisbon. The town is built into the foothills in the Southwest and was home to many royals once upon a time. Habitual swearing is something I’d like to avoid when I’m telling these stories. But I was fucked when I woke up.
All that walking, and running on cakes, bread and noodles took it out of me. It was now I missed my yoghurt, oats, blueberries and whey protein as every part of me – physically and mentally – couldn’t be arsed for the day ahead. That said, I hadn’t flown to Portugal to hide in my room, so found myself at the train station soon after waking.
Tickets were cheap; I’d not experienced foreign trains much, and having spent my life dealing with UK public transport I could hardly fathom a reasonably-priced train that showed up on schedule, looked like a hoover might be used on it from time to time, and wasn’t missing half of its carriages. Forty minutes later we were in Sintra.
I alighted the Lisboa Rossio and did more of what I shouldn’t: walking. Fomo beat away the urge to slow down whilst I explored the town. I found myself in a small bakery, where I had a slice of cake – because the cure for feeling tired and lethargic is of course a slab of processed sugar.
I progressed through the old town to the Initiation Well. I’d recommend travellers to get to it early doors. Any later than midday and you can expect to queue for a while, although it is worth the wait when you get that first glimpse over the wall at the spiralling stairwell. At the bottom there are some cool little tunnels one can explore too.
After the well I visited the nearby Quinta da Regaleira, a castle whose design was influenced by both Medieval and Renaissance times. Slate-coloured blockwork, dark windows and gargoyles. Basically, it looks like Dracula’s crib. I didn’t opt for a guided tour as I didn’t believe I had the energy for one, but I would recommend having a guide so you know what you’re looking at.
Clouds as grey as the castle had been gathering all day, and as I left they unleashed a downpour that matched my mood. There were no signs of it ceasing so I took a soaking on my trek back to the train station.
Being the man of culture that I am, and having such an abundance of local cafes and pastelarias at my disposal, I walked past all of them and got a burger and milkshake, then boarded the train home. The door between our carriage and the next was a bit of a conundrum; my neighbours and I took great pleasure in watching everyone who attempted to open them go through the same shenanigans and eventually ram their way through.
With all the Brazilian influence in Lisbon, I decided I couldn’t leave without finding somewhere to get authentic açaí. I got mine from Ponto de Açaí in Arroios, which was run by Paulistas (people from São Paulo) although I can’t confirm its authenticity as it’s a chain restaurant. To this day, I think that’s the best açaí I’ve ever tried, even better than any I ate in Brazil.
Day Four
My final day in Lisbon was spent looking around the ‘Colombo Centro Commercial’ (Colombo Shopping Centre), before going to the airport. Colombo made a nice addition to the trip, and is a great option if grey skies are looming when you’re in Lisbon.
Conclusion
A year on from my trip to Lisbon, I reflect fondly on the journey that sent me head-over-heels with travel. Despite the showers in Sintra, late spring wasn’t a bad time to visit. Either side of Summer is your best bet as you get fewer crowds and more tolerable weather, ideal for walking around a city. If I were to go again, I’d be sure to allow two or three days just in Lisbon to avoid cramming the schedule. For a city of only 600,000 inhabitants, it has such a wealth of attractions – historical and modern – to keep you busy. Further, I felt completely safe wandering around on my jack jones, and there were so many tourists I never felt out of place or unwelcome anywhere. The flute performance in Empire Square Garden captured the city’s essence well: vibrant and enchanting, yet tranquil and relaxed.
Social/Dating
Most of the people I met in Lisbon were non-natives, so social interactions were made easier by the fact that we shared the common ground of being foreign. However, almost everybody I spoke to around my age were tourists, which makes Lisbon more ideal for hook-ups or going out drinking together than for casual dating. Of course, if you’re staying longer than three days then causal dating becomes more feasible.
In a nutshell, I would say a lot of the young women I spoke to were either tourists, exchange students, or Brazilians who were already married and moved with their spouse. Again, the population is 600k, and dating apps get trickier in any city with less than a million people, so I would wouldn’t recommend Lisbon at the top of your list for dating via, but it’s known for brilliant nightlife so I bet you’ll do well with the ladies when out on the town with a couple Super Bocks in your system.
Food
Sublime. Portuguese scoff is diverse enough to tick the boxes of fine-diners, fussy eaters, and everything in between. Seafood (particularly cod) makes its way onto many a restaurant menu, as do soups and, let us not forget… grilled piri-piri chicken.
The snack game of Portugal’s capital is hard to rival. A seemingly never-ending offering of shops and cafes pop up everywhere you go, supplying global treats like pancakes and pizzas for less adventurous tastebuds, but also traditional cuisine. Delis are a must-try in Lisbon; you simply shouldn’t leave without trying a Bifana from Afonso’s, and a Pastel de Nata from Belém.
Side Note
Whilst I’m not quite sure who my target audience is, it’s been nice to write something without the pressures of creating characters and trying to make them uniquely sentient, or avoid using ideas that I want to save for later stories. Also, it’s nice to write something that has a fixed start and end, and simply tell what happened in a narrative voice that comes natural to me. The only character and storyline I need to worry about here are me and my own.
Thank you for dropping by, and fair play to you if you had the attention span to read to the end, because many don’t in this age of instant gratification and easy-come easy-go. And if you didn’t finish the story because you didn’t like it, rather than your attention span or lack thereof, then no hard feelings, and I congratulate you too, even though you won’t be reading this.
I might share some of my other interests or other parts of my life on this blog, or I may just stick to travel. We’ll see. Thanks again, and I hope you’re taking good care of yourself. Especially you, Ketty Phil.
Sincerely,
Tom Hooke
How Tom Got Around
- Day one:
- Arrival and Check-in
- Arrival and Check-in
- Day Two:
- Praça da Figueira
- Praça Dom Pedro IV
- Castelo do São Jorge
- Igreja de Santo António
- Rua Augustina
- Ecuador Chocolate Shop
- Burned myself and my shorts
- Arco da Rua Augustina
- Praça do Comércio
- Walk along the front
- Pink St and octopus for lunch
- LX Factory
- Pasteis de Belém
- Jardim da Praça do Império
- Padrão dos Descobrimentos
- Mosteiro dos Jeronimos
- Day two:
- Rossio from Lisbon to Sintra
- Initiation Well
- Quinta da Regaleira
- Rossio from Sintra to Lisbon
- Day three:
- Colombo Centro Commercial
- Return to Miserable England
Tom Gets Around 
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