
Something about Portugal grabbed me. I’d spent years waiting to go to Spain, and I loved every minute there. But it was her neighbour that intrigued me, that made me want to stay a month and lazily make my way around the country, or even just around one of Lisbon’s neighbourhoods. It might have been the language; so close to Spanish and yet I could hardly understand a word. The portuguese accent had me constantly trying to “place” the language. Was it a mix of German and Spanish? Or was that French and Italian? The streets of Lisbon are narrow and steep. The trolleys are colourful and the flowers fragrant. We had an amazing meal there, the restaurant recommended to us with a vague hand gesture by our hostel owner to “follow the alley.” It was practically in a cave: dark with stone walls and lit by candles. No menus.







