Leaving Lisbon

Today we left Lisbon. We quickly packed last night’s needs into our packs, stashed the skeleton key back into its lock box, and sleepily tripped down the steep, uneven stairs out into the streets of the Alfama. The pale stones of the streets seem to be “ours” after only three nights. I can already navigate (mostly) the three or four winding blocks around our apartment. I recognize the old women, the mother with a child always dressed only in a diaper, the black cat which peeks at me from a balcony. The terra-cotta roofs burn bright… well…. terra-cotta already by 10 am.

We stopped for newsprint-wrapped croissants and a carob tart. Priscilla ducked into a last souvenir shop to buy a cork bookmark complete with images of tiles, sardines, and a Lisboa rooster. One item to capture all the “things” (cork, tiles, roosters, and grilled sardines!).

With Jen in the lead, as always, we followed her and her applied watch through the narrow winding streets. I couldn’t help but stop to snap a few more photos of tile and the streets resplendent with streamers for the month-long June celebration of everyone’s “favorite saint” – Saint Anthony.

Once arriving at the train station, we learned our metro passes had one ride left, which was good for the two stops we needed at the bus station! The train station was stunning and empty (save the trains); however, there was no time for photo taking, we jogged with 1 minute to spare to the infrequent Sunday train we needed. At the bus station, we grabbed a few cheese sandwiches for the three-hour ride, only to find there was no eating on the bus. Additionally, I could only book two seats meaning two of us would have to stand if there were no open seats. However, there were plenty of seats to spare.

Lisbon city streets gave way to arid rolling hills dotted with orange and olive tree groves. Endlessly, the faded green burned beneath the hot sun, making me very appreciative of both my seat and the air conditioning on the bus. For two hours, there seemed to be nothing but farmland, horses, and olive trees until small white houses began to speckle the horizon.  Small towns with traditional white plaster and terracotta houses gave way to modern glass houses sporting solar panels and Teslas.

Our Flix bus rolled to a stop in the middle of an unauspicious street lined with high-rise apartments greeting us on both sides as our driver announced we had arrived at Armacao de Pera. Our bags were pulled from the bowels of the bus, and he was off before we could get our packs on our backs. I led the band the six-minute (according to google maps…. maybe 13 minutes according to the Bauer walking tempo) to our new Airbnb. While significantly cheaper than our Lisbon stay, this flat has three bedrooms, a huge balcony, a pool, and a working washing machine…. And the pièce de résistance… a bathroom door that closes and a toilet one can sit on face forward as opposed to side saddle. We pulled on suits and pushed each other out the door to the pool.

After two hours or so in the lovely cold water in the hot sun, surrounded by only Portuguese speakers, we stopped by the supermarket and picked up enough food for a small army. We dined on a cheese and meat plate, apples, craft pizza, pasta with fresh pesto, and capped the evening with premade flan (Katelyn’s favorite). After the dishes were washed, we played several rounds of spoons, Uno, and re-remembered how to play Egyptian Ratscrew (putting that in print makes me think we need to rename the game)…

Jen and Priscilla decided today had been so relaxing they took to the living room floor for a quick hour of yoga on Jen’s computer. I hid in a bedroom and snuggled and giggled with Addie while the twins were up to who knows what on the other side of the apartment. Off to put the wild beasts – I mean children – to bed.

Some 42 years ago, in Greenville, South Carolina, Boris must have been driving Jane to the hospital right about now.  Colin was only 18 months old, and I think he was left home with a pre-teen babysitter and no cell phone!! Birthdays are great fun for the celebrant, but perhaps they should be shared with the parents who put in all the work those years ago to bring us into this world.