It’s the rolled trouser leg I think, and the gesture to support whatever it is she’s saying on the phone. There’s that. Makes the photo. But the weather. The hill. The stacked buildings. The odd roofed area which you wouldn’t find in Madrid for example. There’s a figure there. Collectively, could be Lisbon.
It was. We had come to see our friends Geoff and Vera and good dog Moti, worth a blog in herself. Like quite a few of the folk in Arroios, the area where we stayed, an immigrant from India and contented with her lot. Which was and remains a pretty comfortable Lot. We followed two of Moti’s favourite routes round town and they were instructive in themselves. Not necessarily the most touristed of tracks.
We did go downtown. Look for the yellow flag in the photo on the left. That’s leading the party of 35. And the chap in the black T-shirt is at one end of Rua Augusta, one end of tourist-ville. Lisbon has become incredibly popular with tourists, one reason being that is notably cheap. A perfectly fine haircut from one the aforesaid local Indians (with relatives in Cheltenham, Victoria, Australia) was €5.
We were shopping. A scarf had disappeared and some T-shirts had been left behind. We didn’t go to the castle (above right), and we didn’t use the Elevador de Santa Justa at left. Like a good many other things that might have detained us in Lisbon (the Gulbenkian, one of the great galleries of the world; the National Tile Museum — yes, really; six other museums with varying degrees of attraction; the Belem Tower; etc.) it was temporarily closed.
But we were standing outside an H&M that seemed to have most things required. In the photo below we were just as near a shop which had an extraordinary selection of hand-woven scarves and other things you might hand-weave. Great to look at; not quite so much to buy. Somewhat out of our range.
To enhance one of our days Geoff and Vera took us on a tour out of town south to the Atlantic Coast and the Castelo de Sesimbra.
From its battlements one way, and then the other.
The castle also had a modest chapel with a fine display of azulejos, the distinctive tiles — often blue and white and sometimes incredibly detailed and realistic — of, among other places, the Iberian Peninsula, reflective of its Moorish influences.
The contents of the canopy of one alcove did puzzle me. I wondered if we were to celebrate the leg or perhaps its successful amputation. There would be a story. The other similar spaces were full of incidents in the life of Mary. After all, it is the Igreja de Nossa Senhora do Castelo, the Church of our Lady of the Castle, but I don’t know any relevant stories about a leg and its accompanying walking stick.
We also visited a nearby beach …
Note the stand of trees in the centre picture. We walked a kilometre or so down to the beach from the car through stands of eucalyptus.
Any shortfall in tourist attractions to visit was made up by the pleasures of the area near Geoff and Vera’s unit where we were staying, Arroios on the Rua Morais Soares. It was the real world where people lived and did what people do.
We bought excellent material for breakfast in the local Pingo Doce, a supermarket chain. We weren’t far from the Grill n Chill or the Tandoori Fusion. There was a pastelaria almost next door (The ‘Star of Paris’) selling all manner of pastries and baked goods but also first rate Portuguese tarts which in the past I have dismissed. But not this time. Chai Wala Indian Traditional Sweets was on another corner, sort of an outgrowth of Pali Baba Frutaria e talho (‘Fruit shop and butchery’) itself shoulder-to-shoulder with the Oculista Do Chile, Lda, The Chilean Optician. I thought I’d smashed the screen of my phone but one very helpful set of young techies (from four or five options) diagnosed the issue and removed and replaced its protective layer. A chemist, kids clothes, a very busy beautician, several convenience stores, a dollar shop, a dentist, several bars, the Barbearia Dom Juan where I had my hair cut. It was ACTIVATED. There is something deeply sustaining about being in a locale like this. You get a good look at things you otherwise wouldn’t see.
When I took this photo we were eating outside at the Tasca do Mercado (the ‘Market Tavern’). Very fine food. Our unit was one block down either of these streets.
Not a Portuguese tart.
The elegance of rubbish. Lisbon on the left, and on the right we’ve moved an hour’s flight away to Madrid.
mcraeblog 