memories of Lisbon

I’ve been clearing out my iPhone notes over lockdown, and finding lots of snippets from travels past that jogged memories I’d completely forgotten. So here are some disjointed scraps from a few golden days in Lisbon in 2017, paired with some 35mm that it was a pleasure to rediscover.

… narrow streets and baking heat and a lot of grey and beige and cracked tiles and the faded white and blue of shutters and drainpipes…

Fado wafts up from winding streets through our open window. We’re dressed up to go out and dancing in the light of one lamp by a messy bed. 

… Wind in our hair on top of the monastery, harsh white sandstone harsh blue sky harsh seagull calls.

We watch the sunset up on the medieval castle walls with a beer and a view across the city and the evening breeze across our faces.

I read my book beside an ancient fort listening to the rhythm of ice cold waves on the shore. She builds a sandcastle next to me.

We rattle along by the sea at golden hour with a packed train full of Portuguese back from the beach; past the huge monument and the sweeping bridge and the bristling forest of yacht masts and the sea.

A white cat leapt through the window having scaled the gutter from the floor below. She meows under the bed, batting at strings we dangle for her.

Delicious rock oysters - 2 each - with salt and lemon in a second floor seafood restaurant overlooking shabby tiled buildings. There is thumping bass below us and a baleful lobster beside us.

… splashing through the orange glow of neon signs melting into puddles on darkening streets; above the rooftops a sunset bites the lip of the horizon and bleeds into the sea.