L for Lisboa (and Laura)

It was a busy weekend as we embarked on our first trip outside of Spain – Lisboa, Portugal. We decided that Americans change the name of too many cities and countries (Germany instead of Alemania, Seville instead of Sevilla, Spain instead of España… the list goes on and on really), so we refused to call the city Lisbon for the majority of the trip. Take that, USA.

When we landed in Portugal, the first local we met was our taxi driver, who, while seemingly friendly, promptly revealed his true trip-ruining personality and went on and on about how the tour we were to go on the following day would be a complete waste of our time and money. It turns out that he was a waste of time and money, since he ripped us off, charging us about 10 euros too much for our ride and spent the entirety of the ride bumming us out about our plans for the weekend.

Thankfully, this taxi guy (he doesn’t deserve to be called by name) was the only person we met who did not attest to the friendliness the Portuguese are known for. Just minutes after we arrived, as we walked along one of the city’s main plazas, a guy walked up to us and said that the Portuguese were happy to welcome us “into their population” as tourists. There also were the construction workers we drove past who smiled, waved and said something in Portuguese (which none of us understood, but that’s irrelevant), the older man who walked up to us on the street and gave us each four kisses as a greeting instead of the customary two, and one of the workers at Pão Pão Quejio Quejio, who gave us a thumbs up and winked at us when he brought us our food.

Besides the friendly strangers we came across during our stay, we were truly convinced of the effortless charm the Portuguese possess when we began our “We Hate Tourism” tour and met our guide, Ricardo. Always addressing us as “my friends” and insisting we refer to him not as our guide, but as a friend, Ricardo picked us up from our side of the city, Belem, in a charming old van and showed us around Cascais and Sintra.

Our first stop (after Ricardo bought us the most amazing pastries we’ve ever had, called Pasteis de Belem) was the tiny town of Cascais. Ricardo left us to explore once he bought us some coffee. Okay, not just some coffee, but the strongest beverage I’m sure any of us had ever tasted. Mal, after pouring, and I kid you not, an entire two packages of sugar into maybe a quarter of a cup of liquid, couldn’t handle it. Renatta quickly jumped at the chance of more caffeine (that addict) and finished it off, although it was probably more like syrup by the time Mal was done with it…

We ended up exploring our first beach of our time abroad instead of the city, but can you really blame six girls from the Midwest? The beach, despite the cool weather, was beautiful, and we could see the coast curve around, highlighting the border of the other side of the city. We met up with Ricardo again, and he drove us through the hills to The End of the World. We climbed up and around boulders, Renatta fearlessly climbing under the fences that kept sane people from getting too close to the edge, and Mal pitifully clinging onto the boulders for dear life (although we really were close to the edge of some major cliffs). The views were amazing, and it was crazy to think that a few hundred years ago, it was common belief that this was the end of all land.

Friends at The End of the World

We came rushing into Ricardo’s arms once again, and he drove us back through the hills towards Sintra. Along the way we stopped at a food truck, where Ricardo said he had called the owner and asked her to make her famous chorizo sandwiches, just for us (what a considerate guy). When we tasted these sandwiches, (and it has nothing to do with how famished we were, I promise) even Renatta quit talking to scarf them down (and if you know her, you know what a feat this is). Those sandwiches were easily one of the best meals we’ve had since our time in Europe.

Enjoying the best sandwiches on planet Earth

Next stop on our tour – Sintra. We visited La Quinta Regeleira, an enormous estate built in the 1800s, which included a beautiful palace and the most amazing gardens I have ever seen. The entire property was like a colossal jungle gym, full of towers, ponds and caves for us to explore. Since we felt like we were kids again, we figured we might as well act out a few scenes from our favorite childhood movies. Mal slung hair from one of the several towers like Rapunzel in Tangled and later leaped from a rock, umbrella in tow, as if she were Mary Poppins (she was really on a roll with those Disney movies). Meghan and I also found a gazebo-esque structure and were Leisl and Rolf from The Sound of Music (because you can never miss out on a chance to reenact the greatest musical of all time, unless you’re Carrie Underwood).

Despite our spectacular reenactments, which I’m sure the other visitors of the estate enjoyed as much as we did, the highlight of the grounds was the well. Almost 100 feet deep, the well’s interior appeared to be an inverted tower, with a spiral staircase that wrapped its way around the edges. It’s no wonder the entire estate is a World Heritage Site.

We eventually tore ourselves away from the spectacular sight of the well, and made our way back to the entrance of the estate. We easily could have gotten lost (we’re really good at that), but we eventually found our way. Even if we hadn’t, Ricardo told us before we left him at the entrance that if we ever got lost, all we’d have to do is yell “RIICARRDOOO” and he would come to our rescue. Are you sensing a knight in shining armor motif here?

 Sorry about the cheesy pose, but how about that well

Ricardo drove us back to the city center, where the streets were so tiny and uneven and the van so old and rickety that it seemed like the vehicle would fall apart at any moment. Not to mention that Ricardo was quite an aggressive driver; at one point we almost collided head on with an oncoming vehicle, made apparent not only by the sudden appearance of another car a mere two inches from the hood of ours, but also by Meghan’s shockingly piercing squawk as she “saw her life flash before her eyes.” She has a flare for the dramatic, apparently. Ricardo showed us several vantage points of the city, where we took too many panoramic pictures and tried to stop gasping at the spectacular views.

As our time on the tour (and with Ricardo) came to a close, anyone could sense our disheartened mood. Although we could no longer be shuttled around the city accompanied by a charming guide, on Saturday we made our way around the city just fine, visiting El Mosterio de São Vicente de Fora, and watching the sun set from the beach. We also came across a charismatic street performer, whose voice and rhythms on his makeshift drums entranced an entire crowd of people, making us all clap our hands and dance along.

Overall, our time in Lisboa was an amazing adventure, but it wouldn’t have been a true American escapade without our array of embarrassing moments. I took a tumble walking across the street (everyone knows that the paint on crosswalks gets slippery, yet refuses to admit it), said cheers to the lady at La Quinta Regeilera instead of thank you (I don't have anything to say for myself about that one, except that I clearly need to work on my Portuguese), and Mal literally shed a tear after saying goodbye to Ricardo. Dramatic, one might say? Maybe a little, but then again we all promptly began to suffer from separation anxiety (and still are), so we can’t really judge her.