Portugal Day 2 and 3: Now with Pictures!

I missed some blog entries due to surplus of coolness. Lisbon turned out get gradually more awesome the more time I spent there. My first night I went out to Barrio Alto, which means High Neighborhood which is not just a name. The neighborhood is, in fact, elevated. To get there you either take a graffiti-ed trolley or you walk up a monstrously long, monstrously steep hill.

Then you get this: 

So people climb.  Every night. Because Barrio Alto is amazing. The same twisty windy streets and architecture which just oozes history, but dotted with a bunch of bars selling cheap cocktails which people tend to take with them to the many scene overlooks that dot the neighborhood.

It's sickening how neat the area is. Like, actually makes me nauseous. And no, that's not just the cocktails, though they are delicious.

The past two days I spent in Lagos which is, in every sense of the word, a beach town. What locals there are, having no real place to go for vacation, are high-strung and kind of rude. All of the bars/restaurants have English menus with London prices. It still manages to have the cool streets and buildings, but underneath it's the same as any Jersey shore neighborhood. A land where time stand still during the winter and allows everyone to develop a keen sense of haughtiness that fizzes on through the summer.

Doesn't stop Lagos from being beautiful. 

There's not just beaches, but these enormous cliffs casting themselves in various dramatic formations out over the water. There are beaches to be sure, beautiful white-sand beaches with clear blue water. A number of the beaches can only be reached by boat and are therefore very secluded and therefore filled with naked people. I always am struck with wonder at how a woman with their boobs hanging out can just walk around like it ain't no thang. And how the husbands resist the urge to form a full body shield around their wife.

The hostel was filled with characters. And by characters, I mean 20-year-olds. I've finally hit the age where people stop saying “Oh, I thought you were older” and instead just nod and smile encouragingly as if I had just told them a story of how I conquered heroin addiction. Aw, you're so brave to be 26 and in a hostel.

I hung out with people until I remembered why I like to travel alone, and then I did. Not that I didn't have fun with them, though. Together we discovered why Port wine is so popular and later discovered why the streets are empty during most mornings. It was a beautiful thing.

But I'm ready to be back in Lisbon. I got a taste and I'm hungry for more.