Lisbon

October 8, 2018

Greetings from Lisboa,

Every place expresses itself in its own way. The expression is created to be an exchange between the place and the people who pass through it, live in it.

I would not share any of what follows with the simple intention of telling you about the city, although it would a pleasure. This morning I sat on the terrace overlooking the park, waiting for the first light to appear over the Tagus river. It is a cool morning, but in a short while it will be summer-warm and the streets will fill with Lisboans shaping another day. I will leave tomorrow but not without realizing, again, how a place expresses itself.

The history of the city, rich and varied, thousands of years of it, is etched in the place. It is in the shape of the hills where wars were fought, where earthquakes fragmented the place. It is in the castles, the monasteries, the forts, the palaces. You can touch places that are five hundred years old on the way to the cafe. And talk with people who are making the history today.

Exploring the city I learned there is a texture here. The cobblestone streets and tiled plazas and walkways, hand made, the same places where others have walked for hundreds of years. Nearly everyone says something about how slippery they are. And they are right.

You can taste a place, and here you cannot resist that expression. I could create a long list, fresh fruit and coffee and cod, but every taste should begin with the custard tarts from Pasteis de Belem. Naturally, every meal, every taste, is seasoned with conversation, with the sounds of people interacting with the expression of the place.

It smells different closer to the water, navigating the narrow streets between the oldest buildings, zig zagging toward the river. The market here, filled with flowers and produce and fresh fish, is the aroma of a port, of a place where people gather to trade what they have brought in from the rest of the world. I can sense the explorers who left here, who came back with pepper and coffee and stories of other places.

There is music here, like all places. We stood in the street and listened to Fado, an evocative, passionate music created over hundreds of years here. This is the sound of the place, as much as the clanging of the funiculars, and the rigging on the sailboats. The rich mixtures of languages from all of the world can be heard in every square where people gather.

Lisbon has expressed itself in myriad ways, but made richer by the company of friends in the expression. These last few days, under the spell of clear blue skies, we have explored every alley and cafe and centuries old building and soaked in the place, all amplified by the warmth and laughter of good friends.

I am not a travel writer, there will not be a `Top Ten Places To See` Every place, not only “other” places, expresses itself. There is a personality that is part history and part now, shaped by us, by our reaction to the place. It is more than the buildings, whatever their age. It is more than the food or the music, it is what all of those things become when they are expressed to us, and our response.

When I go home I will bring with me the memories of this place, of this exchange. And I will bring a new respect for the expression of the place I live.

Hope this finds you taking part,

David