There are two things you should never do: read your own work, and meet your heroes. Foolishly, I have done both for the sake of this blog post. I must be something of a daredevil.
Longtime readers of this blog (that is, those to whom I send links) may recall that, in late 2020, I wrote a blog post in which I extolled my love for Lisbon, despite having never visited. Now, a little over four years later, I am writing a blog post from that very city. I’m in the bar in the basement of the hostel where I’m staying, because there’s never anybody else here, although there’s a TV playing nothing but music videos. One might wonder if those two things are connected.
So, I have met my hero. I have come face-to-face with the city that I, in my previous blog post, described as being among my count of enchanted objects. As an aside, it’s a little amusing to reflect on how I have (or haven’t) changed since that post. Two things stick out:
- I referenced The Great Gatsby in that blog post, and have spent the majority of this trip carrying around my The Great Gatsby tote bag, which I fear has inadvertently become part of my personal brand.
- The previous post included a joke about a startup for “the Uber of napkins”, and two nights ago – here in the city – I was joking about founding an AI-driven ketchup startup. I’m not sure what it says about me that I have made alarmingly similar jokes four years apart, but probably nothing good.
But I digress. How does Lisbon the place compare to Lisbon the dream? Well, for one thing, the trams actually are as charming as I’d hoped. While it’s true that there are more modern versions in the flat areas, the old town (Baixa and Alfama mainly) is still populated with delightful single-car trams which go at frankly terrifying speed along roads which are so narrow that I genuinely fear for the pedestrians we encounter. When the windows are open – or indeed removed entirely, which is apparently a feature – you can very easily reach out and touch the walls of buildings as you pass by. And this is continental Europe, so of course they’re all operating with integrated and affordable ticketing – just under seven euro for a 24hr day pass which gets you access to all the trams, buses, and metro services.
That said, something about the city doesn’t feel how I imagined. I don’t know what it is exactly. Perhaps it’s the fact that I’m here in November, so it’s a bit cooler than the Lisbon of my imagination – although still very pleasant, and t-shirt weather, which is a welcome break from frigid Edinburgh. But I think it’s more just because I imagined Lisbon as a series of photographs, when in reality it’s a city. It’s a very charming and pleasant city, but where my imagined photographs are dreamy, warm, and almost manicured, the real place exists in three dimensions. There are people, there is smoke, there are cars, and there is litter (although not much by UK standards). And there are hills which take a fair bit of effort to climb.
Obviously, this is better than the alternative. A perfect city would be unsettling and liminal. It would have no texture and no character. And I’ve had a great time here, experiencing the texture and learning how to travel on my own – turns out that’s a skill like any other, and one which takes a bit of honing, although it ultimately seems to boil down to just talking to the people around you. Most people are friendly and interesting. Talking to Americans and Canadians is socialising on easy mode, which is great for a beginner; you just have to ask them where they’re from and they’ll instinctively give you about eight different facts to latch onto, and then you’re off to the races. But you can talk to anyone if you’re willing to just listen, and ask probing questions about the most interesting things they say. It’s obvious, but it’s also something I’m only just learning.
I’ve always been a bit scared of travelling for some reason. My anxieties are being partially borne out – it is indeed quite tiring and there always seem to be a few casualties (so far this trip has taken a power adapter and a pair of sunglasses; my previous trip took a lens cap and a book, which was much more frustrating). And I still hate spending money on everything; it’s so hard to just exist for free when you’re away from home, and even though I have money, i still have the same old fears about not having it any more. Not to mention the issues of occupying my time. I don’t want to put any pressure on myself to do a certain number of things, or to avoid missing anything, but at the same time there’s so much world out there and I want to experience as much of it as possible. I can’t help but feel like going somewhere alone is failing to experience it in full, but it also creates opportunities to experience it in a different way.
For example, on Wednesday, I went to a restaurant where they play live fado – traditional Portuguese music for which Lisbon seems to be particularly famous. I only chose this specific place because it seemed to be a lot cheaper than the alternatives – closer to 30 euro than 70 – but it ended up being pretty wonderful. It was cosy, the food was good (appetisers were stunning; main was acceptable; drink was fantastic) and the layout suited me perfectly – the bulk of the restaurant was one long table, which enabled socialising. I made friends with the people who sat next to me, and they ended up sneaking me into a meetup for attendees of Web Summit – a huge tech conference taking place in the city which happened to overlap with my stay. Being alone meant that I had a reason to talk to strangers, and I’m so glad I did. Tiring, but good for the soul, and certainly good for the plot.
So, on balance, I’m glad to have met my hero. A better writer than me could align this story of a heroic encounter with the equally-heroic endeavour of facing my fear – the hero helping me to slay the dragon, or something. I’m not that writer, so I’ll just leave you to ponder the image yourself. TTFN.