Lisbon, Portugal
On the flight from London to Lisbon, my neighbour gave me the name and address of a hostel. So, when I alighted from the bus which I took at the airport, with the address on a piece of paper, I kept approaching people, and, as often, they kept avoiding me. Of course, one kind soul eventually pointed me to the hostel.
It wasn't until the night before I left Lisbon that a bartender explained to me what had happened. It seems that several Africans had migrated to Lisbon and in their early days, before they could find a job, and, like me, not speaking Portuguese, they would wave a piece of paper, as I did, begging.
Comments and faves
Rohit Markande added this photo to his favorites. (68 months ago)
Rohit Markande (68 months ago | reply)
the story adds to the intrigue of the place!
Lynn Morag (68 months ago | reply)
Gosh and oh dear! Hope the hostel was a good place to stay. Lovely comp.
--
Seen in my contacts' photos. (?)
Barrybar (68 months ago | reply)
Thanks rohit_markande, since I usually travel alone, I suppose that is why I talk about my experiences in Flickr. I used to blog as I traveled to get the constant thoughts out of my head, actually writing and rewriting the incidents of the day, a strong need to tell, to get off my chest, the events of the day. The beautiful and the ugly. The incredible generosity of the people I met in Egypt; the bedbugs that caused me to flee my bed in Kuala Lumpur; being robbed on a bridge in Recife, Brasil, during Carnival; having my passport lifted in Tallinn, Estonia; to be broke in Cuba; to encounter heavy smokers in the no-smoking car on the train from Beijing to Xi'an; to almost catch my death of cold from being in the upper bunk on that train from Cairo to Luxor, with that fan and unpleasant guy on the lower bunk; how I manged to find the Hotel Tulip in Cairo when the taxi driver couldn't, possibly having smoked too much of whatever he had smoked; to have met an incredible young man before I even got to the hotel (he helped me find it), to be invited, before I got to my room, to have tea in a nearby shop; to walk the dark streets of Cairo without fear; to hide my camera under the bed, only to find it displayed prominently on the bureau and to be told by the slender, Black man who cleaned the room, that it was safe, that they were all honest; to have a young man (20's) point hit fingers at me in Riga, Latvia and shoot me, in the forehead, I suppose; to play soccer with little kids outside the railway station in Alexandria, Egypt. And on and on and on.
The beauty with traveling alone is that you don't need to consult a friend regarding their plans for the day; where to eat; when to eat; should we turn left here; right there; the museum; which museum; The Musee d'Orsay, or Versailles; the market. But it is also a little difficult to have to hold onto everything; to not be able to point: "Look over there!"
My dear Lynn Morag, thanks, it was a fairly pleasant pousada, as the Portuguese and Brasilians call hostels. I don't recall making a single contact in the several days that I spent in both Lisbon and Porto (Oh, that is not correct. I did meet an extremely pleasant Black guy outside a church, and we chatted for a while. My tam and beard had given him the impression I was a Rastafarian and he related to that.)
Lynn Morag (68 months ago | reply)
Wow - what experiences .... your blog must have been great!
--
Seen in my recent comments. (?)
Barrybar (68 months ago | reply)
Lynn Morag, just in case you are convinced that you don't squander enough of your precious time in Flickr, I invite you to visit my travel blog, On the move, which goes back 2 years. I have lost a ton of early stuff from hard drives heading south. Thanks for visiting.
*EE* (67 months ago | reply)
great post! i was drawn in by the foto of lisbona! and to find the jewel of inspirational travel splurges! Motivating me back to the "right way" of thinking, Life on the road!
girls rule2007 and Vlad Feoktistov added this photo to their favorites.