NORMAL LIFE: Alan & Lisbon
Sunday, 16th March
I had flown from Helsinki to Manchester the previous Friday, spent one night out with Fred, before heading down south to spend one night with family. Then, on the Sunday, I attended the disappointing Australia Needs Skills Expo at Australia House in the Strand with Nick before heading towards Heathrow, bound for Lisbon. What a weekend!
I took a British Airways flight with a wacky airhostess originating from Spain and a camp, but oh-so-polite air-steward in his forties. Together, they were very entertaining, bouncing jokes off eachother and amusing me endlessly. As such, the flight went very quickly and, after my arrival, I patiently waited in the taxi queue to be whisked away to the city of Lisbon.
Ten minutes away from Hotel Turim, to call Alan to let him know that I would be arriving shortly. Alan tells me that he has been feeling poorly and had spent the day seeing some of the city whilst dosing up with medicine. Not to worry, I said, we can take it easy.
Within an hour of arriving, however, having unpacked, showered and poured a Bacardi and coke from my own private stash, we were out and about in the deserted City centre. Our hotel, located near Marquês de Pombal, was a twenty minute walk from a handful of gay bars which constitute the bulk of Lisbon's gay scene.
For starters, we tried Bar 106 in Rua de São Marçal, a small establishment which, at first, we didn't even see. To get inside, you need to push a doorbell of what looks like a very normal entrance to someone's home. Inside, Alan and I were given a sticky number, a tag that would enable people to leave messages for us at a designated point in the middle of the room from where recipients could collect messages bearing their number.
When we arrived, there were perhaps six or seven other customers so we got some drinks and bided our time. Hunger set in so we went to the nearby Frei Contente, a restaurant which offered countless appetising tapas choices. The menu was in Portugese, but the waiter kindly guided our decisionmaking. We eventually settled for tuna salad, tomato and mozarella salad and sparkling wine - a bargain at just €24!
Our hunger now satisfied, we returned to Bar 106 which, by now, was considerably busier. Neither Alan nor I received any messages, but we did get chatting to a rather flambouyant guy in his fifties hailing from Manchester, who was with his boyfriend from Spain. The four of us drank together, but it was when #111 made an appearance that the chatter truly started: tall, dark and moody with absolutely massive hands, I relented and posted a message for fun! #111 didn't reply, but I somehow detected that he knew it was me because he sat down nearby as if waiting for me to make the first move.
About 1.30am, we moved onto Finalmente, a tiny, one-room club measuring approximately fifty square metres. As the club slowly filled up on this Sunday night, we were whisked away on a time warp to songs such as The Rivers of Babylon by Boney M. We wanted to check out one bar nearby called the Bric-A-Bar on Rua Cecilio Sousa so, leaving Finalmente and climbing the steep hill in our semi-drunkeness, we were surprised to find the bar to be empty except for the barman and the doorman! We are just closing, the barman explain, so we rushed back to Finalmente, where they let us back in for free!
Shortly after our return to the now-packed, smallest club I have ever seen, a drag show started up. I personally am not a fan of drag, but there were some very impressive performances, including a disco version of Christine Aguilera's hit, Hurt, followed by This Is The Moment sang by a lone boy. We left Finalmente at 3.30pm, the loud music having rendered our ears absolutely numb. Having navigated the hill of Real District rather successfully, we stumbled into bed after 4am!
Monday, 17th March
We woke up just intime to catch the last mintues of the breakfast. Feeling somewhat dehydrated, I gulped down countless glasses of juice together with ham, cheese, breads, sweet buns, yoghurt and fruit. Having got prepared for the day, we took the blue line on the metro from Marcquês do Pombal to Baixa-Chiado, then switched to the green line to Cais do Sodré. From there, we took the bus to Belem.
Fifteen mintues later, we alighted from the bus to find ourselves right outside the impression Jeronimos Monastery, a world heritage monument. King Manuel I built it in 1502 on the site of a hermitage founded by Prince Henry the Navigator, where Vasco da Gama (the discoverer of Las Agulhas in South Africa) and his crew spent their last night in Portugal in prayer before leaving for India.We walked along the front of the monastery which, on this Monday, happened to be closed. The architecture, Manueline in style, was impressive with carvings of rope, sea monsters, coral, and other sea motifs evocative of that time of world exploration at sea.
Having ambled along the gardens in front of the monastery, we came to the Discoveries Monument, comemorating the 500th anniversary of the death of Prince Henry the Navigator. Representing a three-sailed ship ready to depart, sculptures of important historical figures such as King Manuel I, poet Camões, fellow discoverer Vasco da Gama and several other notable Portuguese explorers, crusaders, monks and cartographers following Prince Henry the Navigator at the bow holding a small vessel. Queen Phillipa of Lancaster, the English-born mother of Henry the navigator, is the only female to feature on the Monument.
Enterting the Discoveries Monument, we paid the nominal fee to ascend to the top of the monument by way of the lift, granting us a bird's-eye view of Belem and its monuments. Compared to the weather back home, Lisbon was fantastic. I need to be careful, however, because, within minutes, I could feel the 18C heat on my bald head!
Back on terra firma, we wandered along the promenade until we reached another World Heritage Monument, the Belem Tower. Built in 1515 as a fortress to guard the entrance to Lisbon's harbour, the Belem Tower was the starting point for many of the voyages of discovery, and for the sailors it was usually the last sight of their homeland. Ultimately, it serves as a monument to Portugal's Age of Discovery. UNESCO granted World Heritage status to the Tower because: "It is a reminder of the great maritime discoveries that laid the foundations of the modern world."
It was kind of ironic, as we made our way from the tower, that Alan indicated that we might actually tan if the weather continues like this because, within minutes, the sky turned overcast and a cool wind arrived on the scene. After a lunch of fried potatoes with onions, the rain arrived, but fortunately it was local and didn't last for long.
It was as we walked to the nearby Rossio Square when it started to rain. Nearby, were countless cafe's so it was time to take a break. After we finally worked out the purchasing system - order your food, take a receipt to cashier, pay the cashier, then 'claim' your purchase - we ate coffee with custard tarts. Splendid!We took the metro back to Marcquês do Pombal, exiting in front of Parque Eduardo VII, named after the British monarch who visited the city in 1903 to reaffirm the Anglo-Portuguese alliance. It just happens to be the largest park in Lisbon.
Dodging the heavy rainful, we arrived back at the hotel. Before settling down for a nap, I looked out at the grey sky outside only to notice a very traditional - if somewhat dirty - balcony across the road. Behind the balcony stood a glass office building, providing a very strange contrast.
Back at the hotel, we played music and drank Bacardi with energy drink, before heading out at 10:30. Our first port of call was Bar Max (Rua de São Marçal 15) where, to our annoyance, another messaging party was just starting up (Alan was #9, I was #10)! It was at Max that we met Glover, the barman, who face hair was smartly trimmed. Alan took quite a shine to him, leaving messages for him and vice versa.
The crowd grew to some 20-30 people, but nobody came to talk to us. Alan started 'rhubarbing' e.g. pretending to have a conversation by blah-blah-blah-ing which had me in fits of laughter. Alan had received a message from the barman, "You are the sexy one!", which I could have taken offence at, but which I found quite amusing. By now, I was getting drunk and, for fun, I tore up a piece of paper into two small pieces, licked each piece and attached them to my eyes so that when I fluttered my eyelashes, long white bits of paper fluttered! You just had to be there, I suppose!
Around 2pm, we left for Finalmente, the same nightclub we had visited the night before. On the dancefloor, guys grabbed at crotches, the hot blooded mediteraneans knowing no shame! As the previous night, the drag show was good, but this time there was a Debut Ball where competitive transvetites (one of them resembling the smiling Bree Van De Kamp from TV's Desperate Housewives) fought it out for the night's title. Very entertaining, some of the impersonations being Cher's Strong Enough, and Madonna's Hung Up.
Later that evening, a drag queen asked if I was married. Grabbing Alan's hand and looking at him yearningly, I looked back at at the hag in dress as if to indicate that I was spoken for! If Alan hadn't been there, I would have done a runner! It was 5am before we got into bed that night, having huffed and puffed our way up the hill to the main street.
After breakfast, we took the metro from Parque to Sete Rios, from where we would take the train to the small town of Sintra. During the metro journey, a blind beggar ambled his way from train to train, a cup in hand, seeking donations in ernest. What a sight! When we arrived at Sete Rios, we bought tickets to Sintra with fifteen minutes to spare so we grabbed a coffee and cake. My black coffee turned out to be a miniscule espresso which, after one long sip, was all gone! I have never understood espresso.
During the thirty minute train journey to Sintra, I noticed the Old Aquaduct, built in 1746 to bring the city its first clean drinking water. Made up of 109 stone arches and running a total length is 58km (36 miles), it amazingly survived the 1755 earthquake which devestated much of Lisbon. Long after the aquaduct passed by, we passed what can only be described as slums, masses of delapidated buildings. A bit further on, we saw stray dogs, together with groups of idle unemployed people congregating on railway station platforms, which bore endless graffiti.
We arrived at Sintra just before 1pm, the end of the line. It was 19C and sunny, a welcome change from the cool of Helsinki. We walked through the historic centre of the town, marvelling at the architecture before starting the trek that would take us through winding roads up to the Moorish Castle and the fairytale Palace of Pena.
We must have walked for about two hours before we reached the entrance to the Moorish Castle. Our research had been a bit rough and we had had no idea that there was even a Moorish Castle here so, having made the effort to walk all that way, we paid the €5 entry fee and admired the vantage points of Portugal below.
Named by the Romans ("Cynthia") after the goddess of the moon, the Hills of Sintra were granted World Heritage Status back in 1995. The castle was built between the 9th and 10th centuries and it stood in an area considered by the Arabs to have been richly cultivated. In 1147, the castle surrendered to the Christians without resistance.
In the 15th Century, the castle fell into disrepair after the population moved down into the immaculately set out Old Town. In the 16th Century, the castle lost all military relevance and was abandoned by its last inhabitants, the Sintra Jews. In 1830, King ferdinand II started a profound renovation of the castle - the walls and the towers were rebuilt and the end result was a perfect introduction to the period of romanticism.
We clambered up the hundreds of steps to each of the towers, each one offering fantastic views of Sintra and the nearby countryside. Even higher still stood the Palace of Pena, our next stop. As we left the castle, however, we were charmed by a young kitten who was putting on a show for tourists as they left the premises.
The Palace of Pena looked like it might be another half an hour or so trek away, but a brisk five minute walk up a steep incline preceeded our arrival. Parting with the entry fee, we waited for a bus to take us the rest of way to the base of the fairytale palace.
When we arrived, we walked through the entrance which bore the coat of arms of D. Fernando II of Portugal and Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, a first cousin of the United Kingdom's Queen Victoria. The palace is the oldest palace in the style of European Romanticism and, on a clear day, you can see Lisbon and much of its metropolitan area.
The palace's history started in the Middle Ages with the stablishment of a chapel. In 1493, King John II and Queen Leonor made a pilgrimage to the site to fulfil a vow. Their successor, King Manuel I, ordered for the construction of a monastery on the site, with Pena becoming a small, quiet place for meditiation, housing a maximum of eighteen monks.
The earthquake of 1755 reduced the monastery to ruins. As King Consort, Ferdinand II, acquired the site and land and set about its redevelopment. Together with Queen Maria II, the King played a decisive role in the decoration of the palace which features vaulted arches as well as medieval and Islamic elements.
In 1889, having been passed from royal to royal, the palace was sold to the Portuguese State and, after the Republican Revolution of 1910, it was classified a national monument and transformed into a museum. The last queen of Portugal, Queen Amelia, spent her last night at the palace before leaving the country to exile in Britain.
Like most stately homes, we toured the bedrooms, the rooms where hosts entertained their guests, the kitchens. The best part of the palace, however, has to be the Arches Yard, with chapel and clock tower. Through the arches, you could see for miles on this lovely, warm, blue day. While I clicked and I flashed, Alan strode on ahead, keen to see the rest of the place before our long journey back to Lisbon.
When we had finished our tour, we took the gut-churning bus down to the railway station, narrowly missing traffic signs and people standing on the road side. On the train, we slept while the last of the day's sun began its descent to the horizon. Alan and I smiled at eachother, happy, two friends who were having a better-than-expected holiday.
Back in the centre of Lisbon, Alan took me to Restauradores Square, from where we took the Elevator de Gloria funicular up to the viewpoint lookout of Miradouro. There, people - notably tourists - gathered, taking in the view of the cluttered, unattractive city. In the distance you could see Saint George's Castle, which has existed since the 6th Century BC with the establishment of Celtic and Iberian tribes.
We were now firmly in the Bairro Alta district which, traditionally, was the haunt of Lisbon's artists and writers. A picturesque working class quarter dating from the 16th century, Bairro Alta features rows upon rows of tasteful, pastel-coloured apartment buildings while, down alleys and sidestreets, are countless bars and restaurants which, according to our travel guide, come alive at night.
We made our way back to our hotel on foot, admiring the views offered by Bairro Alta. After a while, walking through the district of Principe Real, we passed Rua de Sao Marcal, the road featuring many gay establishments, offering us a superb view of the step hill beyond and the River Tagus.
Wednesday, 19th March
After the usual breakfast, we planned to visit Parque das Nações (Park of the Nations), the location where Lisbon played host to the World Expo in 1998. Considerable regeneration had modernised the area, resulting in ship-shaped skyscraper-high apartment buildings, the imposing Vasco da Gama Tower (Lisbon's tallest building at 145m, commemorating the 500th Anniversary of Vasco da Gama's voyage to India), the architecturally marvellous Oriente Station and a shopping centre.
We spent considerable time in the shopping centre, due to the bad weather conditions - rain and wind blighted what was our last day in Lisbon. It didn't matter, though, because there were bargains to be found. One thing that amazed me was that, on what was a typical working day, it was busy. Having said that, it was shortly before Easter so perhaps many people has booked time off work.
After walked all the way along the wind-swept promenade, we reached the impressive Vasco da Gama tower. In the distance, you could see the Vasco da Gama bridge, Europe's longest bridge (11miles), stretching all the way across the River Tagus which enable visitors from Southern Portugal, Spain and other parts of Europe to attend Expo98. We made our way back to Oriente Station through the water gardens, a wooden decked area featuring cascading waterfalls and water that simulated miniature waves.
When we finally got back to the hotel, I packed early so that I could enjoy a last evening out on the town. A short nap later, Alan and I met up with three girlfriends of his who happened to also be in town. Together, we went in search of somewhere to eat, finally settling for a delicious tapas bar. Speaking Finnish for most of the dinner, we drank sparkling wine and spoke of the highlights of our trip.
It had been a wonderful trip, but I had to admit that Lisbon is one of those places I didn't intend to visit again - very rarely do I have such a view of a destination, but while there is a lot to see and do, the city just isn't pretty. As such, it doesn't owe itself to my love of photography.
Around 10pm, we all parted, Alan and I returning to our hotel room. While I was intent on going out for one last night on the town, tiredness had overcome Alan and, as such, I went out on my own. I had a great time in Finalmente, watching a repeat drag show which kind of explained why they were so good - the same show was on more than once per week and so they had got in plenty of practise in front of a live audience.
The not so pleasant highlight of the night had to be when I headbutted someone. Quite suddenly, someone stood quite close in front of me in the crowd, jerked his head back suddenly, causing my nose to bleed. Although unintentional, I was angered. I turned the guy around and headbutted him. The crowd parted, eyeing me up, but a guy I had spoken to earlier in the evening took good care of me by applying tissue to my nose in the toilets. Fortunately, my nose was not broken, but we laughed about my sudden violence. Apparently, I had scared my carer shitless and I apologised.
Looking back, the night almost had a romantic ring to it ie. guy in nightclub gets hurt, gets looked after by handsome, dark guy, relationship begins, they live happily ever after. But in all honestly, it would take someone very special to make me part with Bree. When I got home that night, I slumbered into bed, glad to be in one piece and not in a Portoguese prison cell on an assault charge.
I woke up just in time for the breakfast, hurriedly filling Alan in on my night out. He apologised for not coming out with me on the last night of my holiday, I apologised for leaving him on his own. The funny thing was that after I had left, apparently, Alan had endeavoured to join me, but because I had taken the door card from the slot which provided power to the room, he couldn't see anything which would enable him to get dressed! Oops!
Outside the hotel, my luggage in the boot of a taxi, Alan and I hugged tightly, realising that our fantastic trip had come to an end. Looking back, I wish it had just been a bit warmer so we could have sunbathed and swam, but you can't have everything, I suppose.
During the taxi ride, I asked the taxi driver: "Do you speak English?" to which he responded "Do you speak Portuguese?" He smiled and I smiled and then I realised that maybe this place isn't that bad. I checked in for my flight to London, from where I would take an onward flight to Manchester in order to meet Bree for the Easter weekend. Little did I know that some drama was about to kick off at both Heathrow airport and Manchester airport !
posted by About Me: @ 10:17 am
<< Home