Lisbon is beautiful. We’ve spent the day walking up and down tiled sidewalks and eating our way through the city. Every few blocks we all just stop in our tracks to take in the scenery because it’s just so darn gorgeous. And that goes for all four of us. When two teenagers feel the need to stop and gawk, you know you’re somewhere special.
I’ve been trying to define Lisbon for myself, as if making it fit into an amalgamation of cities I’m familiar with will make it more legitimate. It’s like if San Francisco and Florence had a baby. No, more like Rome and Paris plus more bills but way smaller and not nearly as assuming. What am I even talking about?
After a delicious dinner of Portuguese tapas of a variety of very fresh and savory seafood and some crisp white wine, I offered up a apology to Lisbon for trying to force her into a mold. She is stunning with her glistening tiled streets, alleyways of staircases, ancient churches, gliding seagulls, clotheslines sagging with the family’s outer and underwear, and friendly people with easy smiles. She is herself.
My Corner of the Village 