Father Knows Best

Lisbon is dramatic.  Not like Paris , Rome or Barcelona …but in it’s own way.  It seems to thrive on a very dignified decay.  It’s elegant and gritty at the same time.  You never get the feeling that Disney just breezed through and painted the facades to make for pretty photographs for the tourists.  This place is well-worn and comfortable. 

After the traditional post-flight coma, we headed out for dinner last night to a little tasca that people raved about on TripAdvisor.  It was tiny—maybe 30 seats.  Half were reserved for a large party and we nabbed the last two available.  Lucky we were.  Tascas are typically run by older couples—mom does the cooking and dad does everything else.  Dad tells you what to order.  You always do what Dad says.  We had two different grilled fish dishes.  It’s what Dad said to do.  The large party were young Lisboas out for a celebration.  We seemed to be the only Americans.  Dinner included soup, tomato/onion salads, the grilled fish with potatoes, desserts and a litre of wine. A simple and delicious experience for 25 Euros.  We’re saving money by being here.  

 

Today, we started with a round trip ride on an old open-air trolley to help with our orientation.  Fascinating, as it wound its way through neighborhood after neighborhood of tiny streets and grand plazas-the warning to keep your body parts inside the windows was advice well-taken, as you often could have reached out and touched the buildings you were passing.

 

We’re starting off the evening with the traditional ginjinha bar experience at sundown and then we’ll be off to take the advice of Dad at another tasca.  Tomorrow, we will make the stop on Terry’s pastry tour of Lisbon—in Belem.