I’m in love! I’m in love! And I don’t care who knows it!

I’m in love with a city, and her name is Lisbon. Gah. I can’t. I just can’t. Why did I stay for only a day?! It was love at first sight!

First of all, Lisbon is cheap. And I mean CHEEEEP cheap cheap. Known as the cheapest capital city in Europe. To get to the city center from the airport, most cities have metros or buses that cost between five and fifteen bucks. Lisbon’s metro to the city costs a mere 1.25 euros, which is less than $1.50. INSANE. I felt like I was sneaking onto the train for free or something. Once on the train, I became acutely aware of my out-of-placeness. Airport bus transfers are normally packed with tourists, but the metros and trains are stuffed with locals, and I observed our differences sheepishly. I was dressed in striped yoga leggings and a tank top with my ghastly green Geico sunglasses and a sweaty bun. In contrast, all the women around me had long, wavy, half-dyed-half-faded hair, always down to their back and never tied up. They were wearing sandals or running sneakers and flowy floral pants. Sunglasses were top-notch classiness, and the shoulder bags were prolific. The men were even more gorgeous, with equally flowy hair, but often tied up in man buns that, for once, did not bother me one bit. (;

Once we got closer to the city, a man stepped on the train and began playing the accordion. On his shoulder perched a tiny chihuahua, who clenched a little coin basket in his jaws. The man walked from the front of the train to the back, bending down for his pup to gather offerings, and then he got off at the next stop to get on a different train. So strange!

While planning out hostels for my trip, I tried to choose places close to public transportation and within walking distance of the city center. Last year, I went by the “cheapest as can be, please” policy, which resulted in a lot of horrible hostel stays. Portugal did not even have a “bad hostel” option, though. Every hostel seemed to have reviews claiming, “BEST HOSTEL I’VE EVER STAYED AT,” even though they were just as cheap as those bad hostels from the other cities! Man. Can’t complain about cheapness, right? Just check out my hostel’s drink/ snack menu:

One euro for sangria?! Unheard of! I was even offered a free welcome drink of Ginja, a Portuguese cherry liqueur, but as it was only eleven in the morning, I declined. (The man who checked me in was one of the gorgeous, man-bunned Portuguese variety, and he kept saying my name in that lovely accent. Gah.) I immediately changed into the most Portuguese outfit I could muster, “lost” my Geico sunglasses, and hit the streets to buy a new pair and begin exploration.

My hostel was tucked right into the middle of everything. Restaurants had camped their diners in the middle of the streets, and shops flanked the sides. The structure in the photo above is an elevator with a view…. How quirky!

Thank goodness I had on my new sunglasses, because I probably would have gotten stares for how far my eyes were bugging-out. Everywhere I looked was like something out of a calendar. All around me, rapid Portuguese was being exchanged in excited, friendly tones. It reminded me of Rome. (Except that in Rome, the general tone of conversation is much less friendly.)

The streets were all cobblestone. Cathedrals everywhere. Food (cheap, cheap, delicious food) on every corner. I took it all in (literally – I think I gained a few pounds that day, and the pastel de natas didn’t help).

The city was built into a giant sea-facing hillside, which meant that every turn on any street seemed to be met with breathtaking views of either the water or the endless clay roofs looming above. It also meant that half the streets were set at daunting inclines, and some of the streets were not streets at all, but rather snaking staircases! I was navigating via paper map, so as I worked my way from point A to B, I often found myself met with staircases where I expected to find alleyways.

More than once, this hilly city got me lost in the most wonderful way. It was one of the most surreal adventures of my life. Every scene was like a picture from some secret fairy tale I’d never read. I kept thinking, How did I not know this existed???

At the bottom of an exceptionally long “staircase street,” I sat to rest and was greeted by a stray. He was the sweetest thing, and he hung out with me as I tried to reorient myself, laughing internally with the other young woman doing the same thing just a few steps down.

I could tell I was deep into a residential neighborhood at this point by the lack of other paper map holders and the many white tank topped men, all of whom seemed to know my friend, the stray. Eventually, I did make it back out and back up to another hill and another breathtaking church.

More wanderings brought me to the entrance of Castelo de S. Jorge. A castle in the middle of the city? Sign me up! Sitting at the highest point of one of the hills, more views awaited me.

Oh, and yummy things.

It was so peaceful up there among the flowers, the ruins, and the sun.

(I felt really weird posing for this picture, but the lady just kept snapping away, so I tried to go for some glamorous, not-looking-at-the-camera poses. I think I still need to work on it. Hahahaha.)

I didn’t want to leave my perch on the castle walls, but I did, eventually, and I found my way to several small parks and shaded refuges spattered among the hot summer city.

When the sun finally began to descend below the buildings, I made my way back to my hotel for “Mama’s Dinner.” Remember how I said all these hostels had amazing reviews and amenities? Well, I chose this one because it was owned by two brothers, and every night, their actual mother cooks dinner for all of the hostel residents. Whaaaaat???

Dinner consisted of a seafood pasta with salad on the side. I’ve never had a pasta that tasted so much like the sea. I also ended up sitting with a couple of friends who turned out to be from Seattle! What a small world! The dude even worked at Amazon, hahaha. When they went to get seconds, they told me the pasta was in the largest pot they’d ever seen – more like a cauldron than a pot.

Dessert was pears and cream. Yummy yum yum. Oh, and there was endless white wine, too! I think we were supposed to get a pour of the local ginja liqueur, but either I didn’t stick around long enough or they forgot. In any case, we ended the dinner with a toast to Mama, given each evening by someone who has been staying in the hostel for some time and is staying for their last night. So sweet.

In the morning, I popped out to wander these lovely streets one last time.

Then I stocked up on pastel de natas and made my way to the airport, sad to leave, but excited to return one day.

It was a bit silly to fly to Porto, as it would have been an easy four hour train ride, but I’m glad I did, for the views from the air were stellar.

More Portugal adventures to come. Until then,

Obrigada e muitas felicidades/ thank you and best wishes!

-Lizzy-wa