I bet Marques de Pombal didn't climb the stairs

Lisbon is built on several hills. According to legend, the number is 7. They copied Rome. According to reality (and about a thousand years of urban development) the number is much, much higher. Lisbon offers funiculars (emphasis on fun) to ride down and more importantly, up, some of these hills but not enough. For example, I could go for a funicular near the dorm, where I walk up 60 stairs every time I need to go to the street that goes to campus. And then another few flights behind the mosque. And then the uphill incline. All of this to go to my room, which is on the second (european; third American) floor--but where is the fun in that?

I will tell you. The fun is in the panting, the burn in my legs, the sweat that coats your body even though it's only 70 degrees and the wind is blowing. If you haven't climbed any stairs lately, no worries. I've got you covered. And your whole family. And probably your whole block. Today, for "fun," we climbed up the 7 stories to get to the CIEE office so we could get ID photos. Then we walked all the way back down to the basement to fill out our forms for our student IDs. Alas, the one English speaking ID card guy had gone upstairs during our absence, so we turned around and went back up. By the time we filled out the forms to get our student IDs, we had completed a full day's workout. We rewarded ourselves with a trip to a pastelaria (pastry shop). The pastelaria rewarded us with the cheapest and biggest pastries we've found yet. The words pastel de nata might not mean much to an American, but to an American in Lisbon, these are the words of angels sent to us from on high (at the top of the stairs) Our new heaven also comes with happy and helpful staff that didn't scowl at us or act impatient as we debated between bolo creme chocolate or pastel de nata; between cafe and sumo laranja. Breakfast for 1euro 60cents. Who can complain when we have so clearly found the answer to all our prayers? And better yet, even one rich, creamy, delicious and almost sinfully good pastel de nata cannot invalidate all the exercise. Because as soon as you're done eating, you start climbing again.

Buns of steel. That's what they really should have called this program.

Other things they could have called it include: the beach is only 20 minutes away. View of pre-earthquake 17th century aqueduct. Constant sunshine.

Well, almost constant. Yesterday we attempted our second trip to the beach and although we made it there, the sun did not seem to catch up with us. It was partly cloudy. I know. Can you believe it? The nerve that sun has. Every day thus far has been beautifully perfect, wonderfully warm. Then we put our swimsuits on, spend an inordinate amount of money on protector solar and the sun doesn't even grace us with its presence. It was windy and cool. A severe disappointment....for the wimpy Americans, at least. Local surfers didn't seem to mind the cold. I probably wouldn't either if my body had become completely immune to hypothermia in the frigid water. We had time to kill before our train tickets expired so we decided to start acting our part and visit some of Lisbon's most popular tourist spots, the Torre de Belem, the monument to the explorers and the old monastery. The tower of Belem and the monastery both survived the great earthquake of 1755, which destroyed most of the city. The city rebuilding project was headed by a man named Marques de Pombal, after whom my favorite metro stop is named. But we'll get to him in a second. We took the train (the metro doesn't extend that far, unfortunately) and got off at the Belem stop, as any rational tourist might do.

This is a good place for a side note about our company on the train. While still at Carcavelos (the beach) waiting, a couple approached us speaking English and asked us if the next train was the green line or not. In case you're curious, it's nearly impossible to figure out what color the line is because the train is green on the outside and blue on the inside. We helped the couple--who were both decked out in Hard Rock Cafe Lisbon gear--locate their final destination, the port for their Carnival cruise ship. We asked how they had enjoyed their day in Lisbon and they were shocked. "In Lisbon?! I didn't realize we were in the city!" Covered head to toe in Hard Rock Cafe gear (HRC is near downtown Lisbon) and didn't even realize they were in the city. The whole scene struck me as just incredibly ignorant. It's not like Lisbon is a generic city, laid out on a grid and full of gray city blocks. How could they have completely missed the fact that they were here? How could they have confused this capital city with the small beach towns?It made me feel very cultured and experienced. I've only been here a week and a half and I already felt a bit defensive for my new home. I felt more like a local than a tourist, which is ironic considering where we were headed...

End of sidenote. Back to the story, where we were preparing to do the tourist thing and get off the train at Belem to see the monuments. We were a little over half a mile away from the Tower when the train finally stopped. In fact, the Belem train stop is not really in Belem at all. We visited the monument to the explorers, which was actually extremely inspiring. I think the overwhelming factor was not as much the gigantic carved statues looking out to see as it was some street musicians playing "Time to Say Goodbye" on recorders and lutes and rainsticks behind us. They were dressed in some kind of colorful "tribal" costumes (they looked more like tie-dyed saris...), selling trinkets and playing the song so slowly you could hear each breath. The music was being amplified, so naturally we could hear very little but our own thoughts and the sound of the river lapping up on the stones near our feet. We contemplated the explorers who set out to defy everything the world believed in. They never knew if they were coming back. They faced impossible odds yet did not veer from their course (pun intended) I was overwhelmed. Being cheap college students, we had decided not to pay the admission to go up to the top of the monument but that decision instantly proved itself a wise one. Being on the ground, standing below and craning my neck to look up at these massive representations of some of history's bravest, I felt very small and simultaneously very brave. I didn't need yet another spectacular view of the city to feel awed and inspired by the monument. And I didn't have my camera, so I was forced to view the experience through my own eyes instead of my digital viewfinder.

An incredible experience, only to be matched by the experience that followed: pastel de Belem. Yes, that's right. There is a pastel de nata and a pastel de Belem. And there is a single bakery in all of Portugal (and probably the world) where one can purchase and devour a pastel de Belem. The bakery is, creatively named, "Pasteis de Belem" and all it takes is 90 cents to sink your teeth into a hot cinnamon-and-powdered-sugar-covered pastry. Yum. My friend Mike was dubious as we waited in line to order. "What's so special about this pastry? Is it just a giant pastel de nata?" (Mouth watering appropriate here) I cannot explain it with words. Maybe someday you will come here and try it and understand. Or maybe you will read this and think all the stairs must be somehow messing with my head. Who really obsesses over pastries?

The Portuguese. And the 11 Americans studying here. Myself included.

Pastries certainly top my list of favorite Portuguese foods. All the shellfish is a little overwhelming sometimes, but the pastries never get old. (In fact, they're baked fresh every morning and I can smell them as I walk to class) Aside from the new heaven we discovered recently with 70 cent pastel de nata, our main haunt is a cafe called Passion Fruit. It offers *free* wi-fi, delicious pastries, sandwiches, salads and fresh-squeezed fruit juice daily. Heaven. On. Earth. Except when it's packed solid at lunchtime and you have to wait 15-20 minutes to order. But you do it anyways, because you're Portuguese and good at waiting. And because it's so totally worth it. The Portuguese also really like french fries. Not the skinny McDonald's kind, but the thick, seasoned kind. According to the school cantinas, rice and french fries can constitute 2/3 of a meal. French fries also go well with fish, steak, salad, eggs, and...yes...potatoes. French fries do not go with pastries.

Moving away from pastries, even though it's hard to do...
I have already mentioned Lisbon's unique tiled sidewalks, but I failed to mention the cars that park on them. Why waste time painting parking spaces when there's plenty of sidewalk on which to park? In the narrow streets that are only big enough for one car, the Portuguese solution is to park on the sidewalk. It's great, I guess, for drivers. For pedestrians, it's a game in how much can you suck in and hug the wall as you squeeze around someone's SmartCar or Peugeot. When we were down at Belem, we saw a sports car that was parked so close to the river that one side of wheels was actually balancing on the edge of the bank, hovering precariously over the water. I made a bet that the four of us would be physically able to push it into the river. We didn't try. Moral of the story: It's not just about what car you drive. It's how you park it.

The other game that pedestrians get to play is the bus stop game. Lisbon is beautiful and the people are really nice, but whoever designed the bus stops was not very bright at all. The stops are paneled on 3 sides with thick clear plastic and usually covered in advertisements. And they consume almost the entire width of the sidewalk, leaving a passageway wide enough for 1 person. So if you're walking and you approach a bus stop and try to walk through the passageway, you run the risk of having to literally squeeze past someone as you try to get out of the tunnel. I suppose it keeps my walks exciting; the thrill of the chase for directional dominance. If you're walking with 3 other people and you enter the tunnel, the other side generally has to wait for you. Dominance. It's a pretty fun game, if you like uncomfortable physical contact with strangers. And the best part is that in these giant 20-25 person covered bus stops, there's generally only 7-10 people actually waiting for the bus while 15 people struggle for victory behind them in the tunneled passageway.

I am fairly good at both of the pedestrian games, although, as you might have guessed, it's largely a matter of luck and sheer physical duress. The same applies to climbing all these stairs and not falling down. I promised I would talk about my favorite subway stop in this post so here it is. Marques de Pombal is a very large station, where the blue and yellow lines cross. Naturally, it is very busy. It is full of a lot of ups and downs in true Lisbon fashion, but there are plenty of escalators, including moving walkways for the long tunnels. At the end of of one of the walkways is another small piece of heaven: a fresh kettle corn popcorn machine that sends delicious sweet smells throughout the whole station. The metro is pretty clean anyways, but the aroma of hot popcorn overpowers any other traditional subway smells. It's awesome. I finally gave in yesterday and bought some in a paper cone even though nobody here eats on the go. It was every bit as delicious as you might expect it to be. And for those of you doubters, it was every bit as delicious as you would never expect it to be. My other favorite subway station is Cais de Sodre, the stop closest to the coast and connected to the regional train station where you can catch a train to the beach. Each station's interior design was assigned to a different artist so every one is different. Most share one similarity, walls covered in painted tiles. When you get off the train at Cais de Sodre, you take stairs up to get to the escalator level to get out of the station. It's all open to the upper levels so the walls are VERY high and the tiles form massive pictures of a bunny running and looking at his watch. It's the rabbit from Alice and Wonderland. And he is late. (Again ironic, considering that no one here is ever in a hurry) You have the option of a moving walkway to get to the escalators on the upper level so as you move, you pass bunny after bunny and it really looks like he's running to catch a train. The metro is just so interesting. The different artistry eliminates the generic feeling that many subway stations have around the world. But even better is the fact that everyone is perfectly content just...existing. Some people listen to iPods, although it's not as rampant here as it was in London. No, people here just sit and relax. I people watch and try to guess nationalities. Lisbon is such an incredibly diverse city. Nobody looks like they belong to a particular group or race and you hear a wide range of languages on any metro ride. It's also not that crowded, even during rush hour, so you can almost always get a seat. Begging in the subway is also fairly common. Blind men and women walk up and down the cars saying something in Portuguese that I can't understand (surprise) Some of them sing and one of them even has a stomp-like routine with his cane, the floor and a tin can. It's a good beat for dancing.

We are going to Porto this weekend, the birth place of port wine. *ah, moment of recognition* Monday we start class and I stop having daylight hours in which to explore the city. Except for Fridays, when we don't have class. Bom fin-de-semanha e ate segunda-feira!

(Have a good weekend and see you monday!)