Chilling in Lisbon. The Portugal / Denmark rehydration break.
Bit of a strange day. Many of the Red Wall are heading back to Wales. Many are making their way to Copenhagen. But there’s still a few stragglers around who are heading home / to Denmark tomorrow. Including us.
It’s almost October, but still hotter here than it was in our UK heatwave over the summer. There’s loads of touristy shizzle to see and do, but with the heat and the hills we don’t even contemplate running around on one of our usual tourism safaris.
We did, however, quite fancy the Elevator Santa Justa. It was top of our list of things to see and do, as it saves walking up the steps. As indeed most lifts do. Well, all lifts actually…
The Santa Justa Lift , also referred to as the Carmo Lift , is a public transport system located in the center of Lisbon , in the district of the same name , in Portugal . It connects Rua do Ouro and Rua do Carmo to Largo do Carmo and is one of the most interesting monuments in Lisbon’s Baixa district . It consists of a metal tower with two cabins and a walkway connecting the upper floor to the Carmo area. The lift’s structure is made of cast iron and uses a design inspired by the Neo-Gothic style. It was built under the management of the distinguished engineer Raoul Mesnier du Ponsard , known for having carried out other similar projects in Portugal. This lift was planned since the 1890s but the project was only approved by the Lisbon City Council in 1900 , the year in which construction began
Unfortunately, it’s closed for maintenance so we don’t get to go up, or in deed down, in the lift. We got to take photographs though .
We contemplated actually walking up the steps, but decided to go in the Hard Rock Cafe instead. And went up their steps to the first floor. We sat eating noodles and drinking cocktails under Tom Petty’s guitar whilst looking at Robert Plant’s dressing gown, contemplating how authentic this stuff is. There’s a lot of these all over the world and they are all stuffed with rock memorabilia. It can’t all be real. Can it?
We get a text from the Shanahan Posse to say that they were in full tourist mode and had walked up to the castle – which is all uphill. When they got there though, they discovered you have to pay to get in. So didn’t. They found a free bell tower nearby, but got thrown out and banned for ringing the bell.
For the next few hours we wander with no real purpose. Taking pictures of statues, eating custard tarts and taking pictures of statues. Eventually we find ourselves plotted up in a bar on the edge of Praco De Comercio square. We sit and watch the world go by. Then some of the world decided to not go by. We are joined by the Abertridw Mexican Ultras. They are actually flying in a few hours and Megan gets anxious on their behalf over how fine they are cutting it to get to the airport.
We chat for a while and reminisce about past trips we had been on together – when we were much younger and more excitable.
The Mexicans eventually head for the airport and we walk along the river. There’s a full moon and the sun is starting to set. The shore is east facing, and apparently they have amazing sunrises, but sunset is pretty cool as well.
There are pleasure boats of all descriptions, from huge jet powered catamarans to sail-powered viking boats. Some are gracefully soaking in the sunset, whilst others appear to have full on raves on board.
We wander along the river holding hands and looking lovingly in each other’s eyes. (Yes Kevin, I can do romantic. In fact I’m as romantic as fuck!)
The numerous riverside bars we walked past on match day are changing gear. Funky house music fills the air as groovers loosen their hips.
We return to Bipolar, a funky little bar near a jetty, with a DJ and waiters that actually seem interested in serving you. We have more sangria and tapas and contemplate our thoughts on Lisbon. It’s nice. It’s really nice. We would definitely come back, but it’s not high on our list.
Then we hop on the Metro. Foreign transport systems can be daunting at first, but at the end of the day they are not that different to the UK. We surf the metro like a couple of locals, changing line three times to make sure we end up at the closest station to the hotel, then get an early night. For tomorrow we fly to Copenhagen. Whoop whoop. #WalesAway.