When I landed the sun was shining strong and bright, and only moments after entering the taxi queue joined forces with Christine, an American with Argentine origins (but living in London)...who also thankfully spoke Portuguese and got us to where we both needed to be. despite being absolutely knackered upon checking into the Travellers House (which I do recommend - clean, cozy, full of thoughtful little extras and very well situated..not to mention very centrally located on the pedestrian street of Rua Augusta), my insatiable travel curiousity took hold and i set out...although not making it very far before the good deals of the shops along Rua Augusta. a stark reminder of why i could never, ever live on Mariahilferstr. in Vienna. Later located a cheap sandwich place for lunch, avoided harrassment from the wandering sunglass vendors and just absorbed the atmosphere, surrounded by dilapedated grandeur with a latin flair.
Within the last dying moments of Christine's blackberry, we fixed to meet at mine at 20.30 and headed off in a taxi to a place of her choosing - a bar/restaurant that was formerly a clown school. The place had a fantastic view, with options for eating inside or on one of the terraces. After getting our fill of tapas and caipirinhas and revelling over the prices in comparison to our home cities,we moved to the low key dimly lit establishment downstairs, and encountered the library, full of such titles as 'the art of juggling' (in portuguese, naturally...) and claimed our territory in the old swimming pool, now with a built in raised floor and cushions, remniciscient of a slightly arabic setting. both having been up since ungodly hours owing to our early flights, we settled on selections from the vast tea menu. v.chillax and atmospheric.
Saturday was my solo day - with everyone in the hostel seemingly already in their own groups, after some 'early morning' TCB took off to properly explore. and shop. later after partaking in some seafood at a streetside cafe named for the sun shining on its terrace, my feet and credit card got an ample workout. not entirely finished though, i made my way up to the castle (Castelho de São Jorge) for a late day view of the harbour and city surrounding it. All the while attempting to capture some images with the throwaway camera i'd bought...the real one was forgotten at home owing to ungodly hour of packing before hideous early morning flight.
After a small sieste, the evening kicked off with some drinks at Christine's hostel bar, and we were also joined by her roommates there, a couple of kiwi lasses (Zoe and Becs), who also call London home. After the caipi happy hour ended , we made for a veggie restaurant called 'Terra (earth)'. This was on their hostel list of recommendations, and quite rightly. a homely, intimate setting with a small garden outback, the food is served buffet style so one call load up on all manner of organic and veggie goodies such as fresh salads, couscous and pasta variations with tofu, to name but a few. A fine evening of eating drinking, and Zoe's sharp wit and tongue keeping us thoroughly entertained.
Sintra, a fairy-tale town set amongst Lisbon's surrounding green mountains was where we passed our Sunday afternoon. After having impeccable timing on the trains, we arrived and wandered the twists and turns of this place, dotted with castles and moorish influence. You would almost expect everything from Cinderella, Snow White or various Lord of the Rings characters to emerge at any time. unfortunately we soon discovered that all the attractions closed on Easter Sundays, so outside viewing only. we made our way up the windy road to the hilltop castles...mostly by bus, thank god...and well worth it. The castle (d'oh! forgot the name) was almost surreal - an architectural melting pot with everything from moorish design to the influence of Germany's crazy king, Ludwig II. There were massive entraces with spikes emerging, which could have easily been Nintendo's influence for the design of Super Mario Brothers. and just as we thought we could pass through it and see something else....it was blocked (cue music played when Mario gets hit by a fireball or similar)
After making our way back down, some starving, some freezing (or was that just me on both counts?) we wound up by default in a place near the main square called 'Bristol', which seemed a bit average and perhaps too touristic at first, but we were wrong. In fact, the only drawback was the lack of optoins for the vegetarian Christine. However, the roast chicken was great, and very reasonably priced, as were the enormous salads, and the service excellent enough that we left a 25% tip in the end (something i very rarely do in europe!).
One reason for this was that, the precariously placed milk for the tea landed itself in the path of my sleeve, and ended up all over my trousers. after having numerous waitstaff rush to me and fobb about with paper towels, one of the waitresses offered me 2 aprons to wear, and said they would have my trousers dried by the time the meal finished.
good to her word, as I finished up the last bit of chicken they were returned to me - completely dry,and folded. I'd definitely go back there!
Upon arrival in Lisbon, we were all in need of a sieste before the evening activities. after waking from my warm slumber, I'd met a lovely new girl in my room, Charlene from Paris. after chatting with her for a bit and realising she was on her own, i invited her to join. Shortly after doing so, yet another solo traveller rocked up in the kitchen..where had they been?
Of course, it was the last night so I was finally meeting them (see my entry entitled 'the art of timing' !)
Not put off at being the only guy amongst our group of cackling females, Matthias (from Germany) joined in as well and we collected the other girls at Oasis hostel (which I would also recommend if you're in Lisbon, it looked fantastic with massive bathrooms, a kitchen and they do your laundry for you! 24 Rua Santa Catarina - an address ingraned in my mind from the taxi trips there!).
After they finished their 'toilette' we were off to a sort of 'cross hostel' party at a small slick looking club near the water. There we met others from the 2 hostels and drank tangerine sangria, a drink a bit more dangerous than it looked or tasted..and to think Tiago, one of the owners of Travellers House, questioned if they were real...pfffft. my raging hangover the next day was certainly a testimonial on that one!
Although the party never seemed to fully kick off, we managed to make our own party fun. Having more kiwis added to the brew deffo helped with that, and there were some most entertaining moments such as the Bollywood dance guy with whom I managed to have some sort of choreographed routine towards the end of the night! Christine kept the sangria flowing and the rest..well, i'll wait for the photos to see! In any case was a real laugh, and after returning to the hostel Charlene, Matthias and I continued courtesy of his local beer in the fridge, until god knows what time.
Woke up slightly sicky and acidic the next morning, and the last thing i wanted to do, or felt mentally and physically equipped to do was the journey back to Vienna. my big outing for the morning was to the cashpoint to be able to pay up at the hostel.
After saying my goodbyes, sloppily gathering my personal belongings and dividing into carry on and required check in (an exercise which should have had much more effort put in..more later...) Charlene helped me down the stairs and into a taxi. and so it began...
first off, the Brussels airlines queue was far and away the largest one in the departures hall. I searched for Zoe and Becs, without avail, but then again their London Gatwick flight queue was non existent. heeugh. And i must say, I am amazed by the fact that I managed to stand in said queue for half an hour. Meaning, i felt positively ill. but i couldnt leave the queue, who knows when i'd get checked in otherwise, and for a few shining moments, i thought i might be forced to use our favourite office Spanish phrase 'necesito vomitar!'..knowing that at least the last word there is the same in portuguese, i'd have had some hope! finally after swaying and suffering and nearly being run over by hyper belgian children with a trolley, i had done it.
The first flight was a non-event, thankfully. passing in and out of sleep, forgetting where i was, and most likely drooling. v. nice.
But then we were delayed one hour in Brussels..and to make matters worse...my checked luggage did not join me here in Vienna. nearly 24 hours on, it has still failed to join me. it is completely AWOL, unlike the other times my luggage has failed to appear at the Vienna Airport and was delivered in a few hours.
(note: in all my 10+ years of travelling, i have had lost luggage 3x..all at Vienna Airport!)
And murphy's law reigns supreme; the other times, it was not of any urgency. This time, however, I am due to fly again tomorrow on another hideously early flight to Cape Town for work...and am minus some rather important things in the checked bag (this is where i wish i had made a better effort in the luggage separation. in fact, the only reason i am in this predicament is owing to that bloody liquid restriction, as i had somehting more than 100ml. bollocks!!!).
grrr. grrr.
at least the bits in between the airport disasters were good.....eeehh.....
