vacation: belem and alfalma in lisbon, portugal
Wake up to no water and no concierge to help, but thankfully it came back on in time for a shower, hurray. We try several times to get out to Belem before noon, but the cards were stacked against us. We missed our bus, another didn’t operate on Sundays. And no delicious European standing cafes with tasty pastries. Instead it was Brown’s Coffee Shop playing bossa nova style YMCA and Ace of Base covers. Unacceptable pastels de nata and a chocolate croissant with sprinkles (yikes!).
We stumble upon traditionally dressed Portuguese dancers and bag pipe players headed towards PraOa da Figueria for the Festa do Folar. We take the tram to Belem, where people are walking around with large palms for Palm Sunday service. Pasties de Belem are far superior… flaky, creamy, not too sweet, just right.
Since we aren’t allowed to go into the Mosterio de Jeronimos, we visit the nearby flea market with overpriced silver wares (the dragon tongs were awesome) and rows of ancient post cards. Peruvian flute music echoes from the shoreline… doo-wop and greatest hits opera. Tom thinks the Monumento dos Descobimentos would look cooler if they were “climbing up to the moon”. We get sun burnt in the nice weather.
Torre de Belem is crowded but free. We continue our tradition of monster mask pictures wherever we can sneak it, before heading back to Baixa for lunch. No luck on a Sunday… all tourist places with pictures of food on menu, Ena Pai. Tom’s suckling pig is the best. Alyssa might have gotten food poisoning from her watery crème brulee or fish food. Mine is just all sorts of bland… bachalau bland.
Pass through Festa do Folar on our way up to Castelo Sao Jorge, tough on the feet uphill on cobblestones. We find an abandoned house on a more scenic way up to the top, with lots of colorful laundry hanging on clothes lines. Stray cats run around the castle, as another strange man (wizard?) plays flute. Tom freaks some American girls out when he questions what the peacock might taste like… duck perhaps?
Our feet are dying. Alyssa looks sick. We get on the historic Tram 28 through Alfalma, Baixa, and Chaido. Go to Pingo Doce for food… no linguica but they have Panda spaceman cereal, cheap wine, and soft tasty cheese. We rest and rest and rest until it is far past dinner for America, but the night has just begun for the Portuguese.
Taxi it to Restaurante Alfaia in Barrio Alto where we wait a while for a table in the back. I have Acorda de Gambas, a thick bread soup with shrimp. Alyssa is convinced to eat a steak with a fried egg on top covered in some meat gravy aka delicious. Tom has the best of all, pork with clams in white wine sauce. The food is mmm mmm great. The wine is even better. We come back happy and drained and stay up to the wee hours chatting over Vinho Verde.
Tomorrow: A day at the beach in Cascais & Estoril
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