No Regrets!

Lisboa, the Portuguese name for the city, is huge. The bus zipped through the industrial outskirts of the city, crossed the enormous delta of the Tagus River, and dropped us at the bus terminal. A couple of quick subway rides, and we were at our hostel in the heart of Lisbon.

I needed some me time. We’ve been together as a group for over two weeks now, and coordinating things with everyone and constantly maintaining a friendly smile takes a toll. With a few free hours to kill, I decided to wander around for a bit on my own, soaking in the sights and sounds and smells of the neighborhood.

Lisbon, or at least this part of town where we’re staying, has a good rustic feel, with charming little streets, wrought iron railings on balconies, and streetcars. A regular pattern of white stonework, which I think is just called Portuguese pavement, covers the ground pretty much everywhere here and also in Lagos.

I used TripAdvisor to find a little taverna, and feasted on super-spicy chicken wings and a few tiny lamb ribs.

Then a quiet stroll down to the Tagus River to soak in the scene as the sun went down. Some romantic couple embracing, a few photographers like me, and a handful of cafes and restaurants with live bands playing outside.

I met up with the crew back at the hostel in time to go out for drinks.

Fredy led us into Bairro Alto, the “upper district” and one of Lisbon’s historic neighborhoods. The whole place was going off, crazy nightlife for Thursday. We walked up and down the streets, popping in and out of bars. I was offered cocaine a half-dozen times.

After the lame members of our party went to sleep, Nader did some recon and told us we had to go down to the “pink street” for the real party. A short walk later, and we were there. Mobbed with people, the street was lined with strip clubs and bars with shitty cover charges and shitty music.

After balancing cost and music quality for each of the establishments, we settled on a dance club tucked under a bridge called Music Box. Inside, shitty techno blasted while I flailed around on the dance floor like an epileptic.

On the way home, we did some drunken window-shopping. Nader stepped into a pile of human shit, and we knew the night was over.

We’ll be exploring Lisbon like proper tourists tomorrow.