After a good nights sleep and a hearty breakfast, we set off on our adventure of the day. Lisbon has many hills, trolley cars and similarities to San Francisco, where we had all lived at different times. Our mission if we chose to accept it, and we did, was to find the yellow tram number 28. Tram 28 is known as a touristy tram for good reason, but was well worth the time. We took the Metro down to the start of the 28, waited in line for a good 40 minutes before boarding and securing window seats. I always enjoy watching the world go by as I sit on public transportation, so the window is a must. On a side note, I have to say that mask wearing here in Lisbon is I havent noticed much fuss regarding it, which is a nice change. Perhaps I dont see the behind the scenes drama of it all, but in buildings, on crowded streets, and this tram, almost each person is masked.
Down a tree lined street, our tram rattled along. We turned a corner and started up the hill. Buildings stand right up against the tram along the
route, meaning we could peer into store windows and get a good feel of the area. Our thought was to ride this to the end of the line, turn around and ride it back down, hopping on and off as we came to stops that interested us. A large arch overlooking the water caught Merry Jos and my eye, so we made note to find it again. There are some truly amazingly beautiful overlooks on this trams journey. At the end of the line, we had to disembark, and queue up again for the ride down. Several people in front of us was Frances version of a male Karen. He and his girlfriend bought a ticket on the tram, but it was the wrong tram. The ticket was for a ride, so was not transferable to the other tram. As we stood there, he argued, cajoled, berated his case to the operator who was having none of it. Off the tram they went, only to pop up like an angry Jack in the box right in front of us. They started the BS again, until they finally relented and bought a new ticket. Seriously, this was all over less
than a $5 ticket. I didnt get it, but it did make me realize how one can choose to be unhappy or choose to be happy. On this day, I was choosing happy, and loved it.
With the drama behind us, we clattered our way back down the hill. One tree, a burst of purple, had stood out as a reference point. Sadly, when it came down to remembering this reference point, I was caught with my metaphorical pants down. The car was crowded with people standing in the aisle blocking the view of the other side. I remembered the tree, but never saw the arch we wanted to see. Down we went, until it was inevitable that I had missed the stop we needed. We got off, and waited for another tram to take us back up to where we did find a scenic outlook for some postcard perfect pictures. If you are really nice, I may post a few of them at the bottom of the blog. And to be honest, I will most likely post them regardless. Up we walked, until we strolled into a restaurant. This restaurant broke so many of our travel rules,
that it shames me to say that we ate there, but, darn it, we were hungry. For them, it was the rule of too many menu pages. For me, it was pictures of every item on the menu, plus translation into probably 8 languages. They brought out the obligatory plates of rolls, butter, croquettes and whatnot that had seen better days, and even more table trips. We passed. The food was better than I had anticipated, but then again the bar was pretty low. Soon enough, we were back out in the sun, walking up the hill.
Eventually, we found the arch that we wanted to see. As it turns out, it had been built as a gateway to the city. Nice views, nice architecture, tons of tourist crap for sale. Since we had taken our time, we had to Uber up the hill to meet our guide for our Lisbon off the Beaten Track tour. The guide was a personable woman named Rita, who asked us up front what we were looking to see. Our response pleased her and led us to a very informative tour.
