If You Can't Take the Heat...

The weather in Lisbon was oppressively hot this weekend, and lacking A/C or fans, we decided to leave town for some cooler environs. We took the train about 30 miles up the coast to a little seaside town called Estoril, a popular draw for Lisboners (Lisboans? How can we not know this...) on weekend vacation and, in its earlier days, deposed royalty. As you can see from the pictures, the main draws of Estoril are the beach, the park in the center of town, and the casino.

Windows to the Soul

Today we visited a select few of the cathedrals that are seemingly littered across Lisbon. The pictures here are from the Sé Cathedral in the Alfama neighborhood of Lisbon. My favorite thing about them, hands down, is always the stained glass windows. Cathedrals, in addition to being architectural wonders, are also marvels of psychology; every single object is created to make you feel the presence of God on Earth, from the soaring columns to the ethereal organ and the dim candlelight. But these windows, even though I know they are simply a trick of light and glass, always make me feel a faith I didn’t even know I had.

Cathedral of the Sky

These are the pictures from our trip to Museu Arqueológico do Carmo. The name is a bit of a misnomer – while there are some interesting archaeological artifacts, the real reason for the importance of the ‘museum’ is that it remains one of the few standing buildings from the 1755 earthquake that destroyed most of Lisbon. As you can see in the photos, the roof fell in the earthquake and was never repaired, making it the only building in Lisbon that suffered significant damage but was neither knocked down nor fully restored.

Noise in the City

Upon finding out that we would be spending two months in Portugal, and possessing an unholy fascination with the written word, Matt and I immediately read through every travel book published on Lisbon. Many of them disagreed: some said the shopping was divine, others said save the euros for Paris. Some claimed that food was exquisite and adventurous, while others could only summon up a lukewarm “unique” to describe the culinary attempts. There is one thing, though, that every book agreed upon: Lisbon was noisy. And it really, really is.

At first I just thought the cacophony pouring through the windows was there from the two bars within a 30 second walk from our apartment (honest, I didn’t know that beforehand). But then, it was there when I woke up in the morning, and when I returned in the afternoon, and when I fell asleep at night. Eventually I began to open my ears and listen, really hear what all this “noise” was.

It starts in the morning with the construction workers that arrive and begin to toss commands and tools up and down three flights of stairs. Then the windows on the street open, seemingly choreographed, as little old ladies assume their perch on the sill and begin chirping back and forth across the street. The dogs eventually join in, barking at cobblestones or pigeons, I’m not sure which. The funicular, or street tram, trundles it’s way up and down the street, it’s ringing bell subject to no schedule but the whim of the conductor. In the afternoon, the sunlight draws out the children whose yells echo up and down the long hill, as their soccer ball bounces against every wall on the street. At night, their parents come out and begin to circle the bars and restaurants alternating between shouted endearments and drunken singing. See, it’s not really noise, it’s everyday occurrences and greetings without the separation of public and private space, all bundled onto one tiny hill. In short, it’s life. Not noise, but life. Not insignificant sounds, but an entire existence of a people.

And so when we open the windows, life pours in from the streets and people below. Perhaps I should write to the travel books and tell them they got it wrong, but I would hate to make any noise.

Have Fun Storming the Castle!

Today we visited the Castelo de São Jorge in the Alfama neighborhood of Lisbon. It’s been around since the 11th century, through Moorish, Castellano, and Portuguese rule. The views were truly amazing, but the best thing was to lay your hand on the stone walls and envision the centuries that have passed, the people that have brushed this very same object in the past, and the generations that will enjoy this same thing in the future. It was timeless.

(Ten points if you get the title.)

Ola Lisboa

We finally arrived in Lisbon, Portugal today at 8:30am local time. We're already enchanted with the city and can't wait to explore; check out the views from our apartment in the Bairro Alto neighborhood of Lisbon. Wish us luck! (Boa sorte!)

Goodbye Chicago

Port Charlotte, FL, 8/13/2009, 11:12pm

“One always begins to forgive a place as soon as it’s left behind.” --Charles Dickens

As soon as I saw this quote, I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. I first noticed it one week before leaving Chicago for good, and the truth of this simple statement echoed in me immediately. I had begun to feel the irony of missing a place that had seemed to cause nothing but frustration, and wonder if I was really that fickle of a person or simply being overly sentimental. After all, Chicago certainly does have a lot to forgive: traffic, relentless blizzards, traffic, a staggering homicide rate, and let’s not forget traffic. And that’s not even mentioning two incredibly grueling years working 24/7 while pursuing a graduate degree that has thus far yielded little to no realistic results. However, thoughts of forgiveness were short-lived. I realized that this was just a gut reaction, remembering all the bad things that this place had thrown at me, letting them cloud over all the amazing things that I had experienced. In retrospect, my reaction to leaving Chicago was just the opposite: As soon as I left I could begin to extend my thanks to this complicated, chaotic mass of humanity....

Thank you for making me stronger. Literally in the sense that I have no fear of carrying 50 lbs. of winter weight clothing over a 1 mile hike to public transportation. Figuratively in the sense that failure and success are not extraordinary occurrences anymore, but daily constitutions that I take in with my coffee in the morning and leave when I put away my last glass of wine at night. Thank you for making me realize that I am not safe anywhere, and nor should I be. Personal responsibility and awareness are not luxuries but necessities during every step I take. Thank you for making me realize that culinary exploration can be an art form, but that it’s still okay to gorge oneself on unseemly concoctions of grease. Thank you for teaching me that humanity gathered at a single point and purpose, no matter whether it’s the Gay Pride Parade or a historic inauguration, is a truly beautiful thing. Thank you for the worst traffic in the world because it gave me more time to appreciate a beautiful skyline that otherwise sped by too quickly. Thank you for terrifying me with loneliness so that I could finally overcome a lifelong fear of commitment with the most amazing human being I have ever meet. But most of all, thank you for challenging me at every turn, in every situation, and, eventually, dissolving fear of everything into pure, distilled wonder.

Of course, Chicago has given me some new fears that will persist far too long. I am now terrified of the suburbs. Life without a Whole Foods seems too horrifying to contemplate. I’m convinced that I would actually be stupid enough to trek 500 miles out of my way for a slice of deep dish pizza. And I honestly cannot envision life without at least two local baseball teams. But, I’m sure some other place, some other time will cure me of these fears as well.

So I forgive you Chicago, for everything, but I thank you for more.