Where the grass is greener - April 28th, 2006

11:50 am - Land of Saudade

I have procrastinated with this post long enough to apply as a contender for a Guinness record; who else writes about last year vacation right when this year' season starts?
But this unfinished (although started, and not once) business has been gradually coming to a boil at the back of my mind, especially since I've learned a friendly blogger's mother is planning to visit Portugal in May (hi, Neilochka!) - and that was the last drop: I risk to become irrelevant if continue torturing myself in wait for perfection.

So, I'll present my scattered notes now. I might add something or other along the way, return to the past parts if I suddenly remember some amusing detail. I'll alert you with updates if that indeed will be the case. Questions from the audience are encouraged; you might trigger some happy memory that fell asleep for a moment, so please shoot.

Also, a fair warning: the following is my own, highly personal, impressions and opinions; it came through a few conscious and unconscious filters I set for myself and probably (even certainly) will not coincide with book guides or fond memories of other travelers.

Part I.

Transport

The only direct airline flying from US to Lisbon and few other Portuguese cities is
TAP. And as you can see from the link, it's quite expensive; some would still take convenience over savings; I preferred to shift my view. I decided to look at travel comforts or lack of them as yet another new experience, part of the "see the world as it comes" package. Which has an added bonus of being easier on the vallet, too.

So, after weighing options, I selected Lufthansa for my trip New York-Frankfurt-Lisbon. When I arrived at the airport my choice proved the popular one: European terminal was relatively empty except 3000 people @ Lufthansa counters. The flight wasn't particularly memorable except one enthusiastic Markus who insisted of making friends with 2 French matrons behind me; they were not impressed. Food appeared in intervals of 3 hrs prompt, vine and beer were plentiful, the staff looked and moved like Olympic German team of 1933, my neighbor slept for 9 hrs straight, I sketched various knots that tied uniform neck scarves on stewardesses: remarkable inventiveness. Frankfurt airport came and went as a dream full of hideous 70's-style bathroom sinks and grey ceramic mosaics. Fly Lufthansa!

In Lisbon I switched planes to a local airline to Faro, the only city with airport in Algarve, in the South. The atmosphere changed immediately: stewards chatted among themselves, children cried and run along the passages, a sweaty guy across the aisle unwrapped home-made lunch (or was it breakfast? - I lost sense of time).

Portugal pleasantly surprises by variety of transport options available, for such a small country. Renting a car would be of course, ideal - if I knew how to drive. Absent the skill, I had to rely on public transportation. To get to Lagos (a resort town further to the West from Faro) I had a choice of either local train or the bus; since I missed the last bus by mere 10 minutes, I took the train.
I regret now not taking the picture of the train itself; it was spectacular: I estimate it to be about 70 years of age, and it certainly didn't lead a sheltered life: it whizzed and coughed, the windows weren't washed in decades, the brown leather on its' seats was cracked and dusty - but at times it was speeding like the best of them, and its' voice was powerful and melodic.
To take some pictures I opened the window; the sunset and scents of flowers from the hills and iodide sea water filled the flying car - along with soot and grime of the locomotive. When after 3 hours of this entertainment I finally made it to my room at Tivoli hotel, the shower water turned black coming through my hair... When I told about this trip to my companions at the resort's beach club, I had their instant admiration and was tagged as a free spirit (or not quite well upstairs...take your pick) - the train was considered a scare. Well, the only scary thing for me was a rooster in some peasant's basket, who suddenly announced his presence in the middle of the sharp turn.

After a week on a beach I took a bus back to Lisboa. That week did wonders to my relaxation; actually I became a bit too relaxed (read: lazy) to take a shot of the bus when it arrived to the station. Believe me, it was a wonder. I'll link somebody else's picture to illustrate.
Those rare-view mirrors hanging in front made it look like some oversized cartoon insect, but the friendly one, of the sort that hops around on the warm sunny meadow among fragrant grasses. Inside, there were: -a TV (with ever-present football), -excellent seats, - tinted skylights, -a tiny clean bathroom. The 3.5 hrs trip was a breeze, with lonely white-washed and red-roofed farms among olive and cork trees running back on the sides of the road and amusing commercials on TV (the one I thought had something to do with romantic couple [swans on a lake, sunset] turned out to be for a soap).

In Lisboa a friend gave me a tour of the city. We climbed the winding streets for 2 hours and got a bit short of breath. Let's take a Carris funicular, she said. Again, I have no picture of my own, but you'll get a sense what it was: designed to move uphill, it's build on triangular platform, with its rare end higher from the ground than the front, and thus retaining horizontality of the cabin while in motion.
Taxis, of course, are widely available (one took me to and from a fado club in Alfama one evening), and metro is great: clean, wide platforms, high ceilings and compact trains. Here's an example of tiles' wall treatment on the platform, somewhere on Avenida da Liberdade

In two days I traveled to the North of the country, to Oporto, by a different train (Intersidades) - modern, convenient, air-conditioned vehicle, on time and fast. It took me about 4 hours for 195 miles, through beautiful scenery and picturesque stations. Porto has lots of bus routes and comprehensible (for a non-speaker) maps. On my second day I even found myself on a bus stop giving advice to a German visitor wanting to get to Crystal Palace - who, as it turned out, was living in Lisbon for 2 years and could ask the way in Portuguese - but preferred to communicate in English (which in Porto is not so common)! The city is on steep hills on the bank of the Douro river, and it's a wonder how the buses climb the streets.
There are other, more traditional means of transportation in Porto, too. Trams are popular(there is one route going on a scenic journey along the promenade of the river; I took it once - the tram itself was pure delightful Victoriana, with leather handles, wooden grates on the floor and passengers perched high on narrow stuffed seats- it is a regular route, not specificaly for tourists and it costs peanuts) - the city even has a tram museum, if I remember correctly [and I do! an update - T] from the guide's text I listened to while seated on top of the doubledecker on a continuous loop-tour around the city (highly recommended; not the text but the tour).

Porto, obviously, is famous for its' wines, which were - and sometimes are - transported in casks down to the cellars of Villa Nova De Gaia in a shallow boats from vineyards up the river. This one is filled with gawkers, and if I had the time, I'd join them too.

Cars. As much as the subject bores me (repeat: I don't drive), I couldn't help notice their size (minuscule!) and ability to manuever and park practically everywhere. There are cars, I believe, just for a driver and maybe a space for 2 bags of groceries behind him; - this was parked 2 streets from my hotel in Lagos; it was the size of a bycicle. Alternatively, there exist elegant and noble automobiles promenading around the column of Marques de Pombal in the capital. Look at this grand Art Nouveau building on Avenida da Liberdada in Lisboa - it's a Mitsubishi dealership! A way too much respect to a transportation device, in my view.
A friend told me that a car has more than an utilitarian value for Portuguese: for majority of populace an idea of owning your home (if it's not being handled down through generations) is an unachievable dream. It is manageable, however, to buy a car - with all due diligence at saving, etc - so like in every poor nation, people's achievement is valued in units of cars. "He's driving a BMW" could only mean the guy is a rock star. (*Remind me to tell you later about the Portuguese rap music). My friends, husband's a programmer in a big hospital, wife a student, writer and a radio-journalist, could only afford to take a loan for a car after a year of marriage.
This is a shot of the interior wall of the garage, right in the center of the city; the drivers seem to be sculpted in the 60's, but the expressions didn't age.

To be continued.

Update (May 13)
I found a pencil-scribbed note about Lisbon buses in my pocket notebook:
Yellow Carris city buses are very comfortable, low-platform (easy to climb in) - but have no wheelchair access or equipment to fixate it in place. They don't "bow" to accomodate invalids or elderly, like NY buses. Ticket system is "progressive" - tickets cost vary depending on the distance of the trip. Buses itself could be single, double (with "accordeon" joint in between), and even minivans. I am not sure, but I don't think there is one universal card, good for combined trips and transfers between metro, bus, and tram; there is a discounted monthly card, though, and special tourist 1-day card - you buy one and have unlimited access to all means of city transport for a day.