For those interested, here is a travel update, starting with Lisbon and Portugal. This is actually my third attempt at this post; the other two going in very strange directions, with enough melodrama and blather that they were relegated to the bit bucket in the sky before coming to fruition. Here’s the Joe Friday version.

After suffering through a chaotic Gate 66 at SFO and crowded and frigid flight to EWR, Mom and I were unexpectedly upgraded for our flight to Lisbon. Very nice way to travel (reminiscent of Heaven and Earth), I wished the flight were about four hours longer in order to get in some additional sleep, but overall I’m not complaining. We were picked up, along with three other couples on our flight, by our guide Jesus and driver Carlos and transported through the city, which was just waking up, it seemed (it was 9:30 in the morning). The streets were clean and neat, and showed off their elegant and historical building facades. This is the first picture I took in Lisbon, showing the statue of the Marquês de Pombal in his eponymous plaza/roundabout, as we turned onto Avenida da Liberdade toward our hotel (we will see him again, perhaps):

The hotel had a very good central location, about equidistant from the heart of the Baixa district (downtown) and the Gelbenkian Museum (more on that later). Since our rooms weren’t ready, Mom and I took a walk to the Castelo de São Jorge, up on the hill next to the Baixa district. It was getting warmer, so I took off my jacket and dangled it casually in one hand. I had my smaller camera and a little notebook in one of the zipped pockets, and their weight must have showed. I thought I felt a tug on the jacket, then another, so I jerked it forward and turned to see a somewhat scruffy-looking guy straighten up, and play as if slightly lost and trying to get his bearings. He didn’t even move away, he just stood there looking around, completely unaffected, as if nothing had happened. It was very unnerving. I actually wrote a long mournful, angry, dejected, indignant reflection/invective on good vs. evil and the human condition, in the aftermath of the incident (in one of the earlier incarnations of this post), but have since decided to discard the text and spare you the inconvenience of having to page down past it. I’ve gotten mostly past it, emotionally, and will be using it as a lesson learned for our days to come in Barcelona. It may have come as a blessing, though (hopefully) we won’t actually have to recognize it as such.

Anyway, we made it with possessions (thought not nerves) intact, and walked through the grounds, and then the structure, of the Moorish castle. Here is the view from the castle looking south across the Rio Tejo; you can see the Cristo Rei statue (the inspiration should be apparent—I’ll leave that statement ambiguous) on the Almada side:

And here is the view looking west over the Baixa district, including the Elevador de Santa Justa (not designed by Gustav Eiffel—though we will see something designed by him later in Porto):

To tell you the truth, I was still shaken by the pickpocket attempt and could not enjoy the stroll through the castle property or remains of the edifice, which both should have been quite interesting. My mind was on our carry-on bags, which we had left, supposedly attended by the porters (though the area was completely accessible and unsecured), in the lobby of the hotel. I didn’t want to alarm Mom, but I voiced my concern, and we ended up beelining it back to the hotel, skipping lunch, and blowing by the other sights we had wanted to see in Baixa.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in the hotel, and attended the welcome dinner for the trip that night in the hotel restaurant. We were treated to mediocre food and really poor service, but it was nice to sit down with, and start getting to know, some of our traveling companions. Everyone was upbeat and amiable, and there were interesting stories to share, so the day ended on a good note.

The next morning, after breakfast (this time, good food and really poor service), we did our compulsory bus tour of a few standard tourism sights in and around the city. Here are some correspondingly compulsory pictures of the Tower of St. Vincent, War Memorial, and the Monument to the Discoveries in the Belém section of Lisbon:

The last picture here is the view of the 25th of April Bridge (and the Cristo Rei again) from the Monument of the Discoveries site, in unfavorable light conditions. There is a somewhat humorous irony, at least for Bay Area folks, related to the builder of this bridge, which I’ll leave up to you to discover for extra credit. I apologize for the unimaginative postcard-style composition and framing for some of these pictures; I will try and keep those to a minimum from now on. Note, however, there will likely be a number of pictures that appear at first to be mundane tourist snapshots, but are really strong pronouncements of symmetry, perspective skew, or context-free zoom-in that could only come from the mind and insistence of a truly obsessive-compulsive individual. In those cases, the subjects themselves don’t really matter, but rather serve purely as artistic media for completely abstract statements.

And here are some pictures of the Jerónimos Monastery and adjoined Church of Santa Maria, just across the avenida from the monument site. I want to call your attention to the stone tiles that form the zodiac representation in the garden, shown here in the wider fountain shot as well as in closer detail. The combination of limestone and basalt used to create both localized texture, as well as figurative decoration, is typical for Lisbon in particular, and Portugal more generally. It is beautiful and distinctive, but inherently treacherous: it is, in many places, uneven (both upon installation, and even more so with time and settling, etc.); there are pervasive gaps between the tiles, enough to suck in or snap off narrow heels of any height, and thus turn ankles of any fortitude; and it is slick enough when dry (especially with wear), but will certainly be crazy-law-suit-slick when wet. Also note the ceiling construction and detail in the nave of the church; it is very similar to the Harry Potter ceiling outside of the dining hall at Christ Church College, Oxford. And lastly, I would like to point out the row of doors in the wall of the monastery cloister; these are actually entrances to confessionals (with the priest-side enclosures within the church, on the other side of the wall). Could there really be that much to confess within a monastery? Don’t answer that, I really don’t want to know.

The last place we visited that morning was the Summer Palace of the royal family, in Queluz, just outside of town. Here are pictures of some architectural and design details. The Neptune fountain in front of the main entrance is similar to (though slightly smaller than) mine at home, and the Yankee Doodle Monkey Fish fountain is like the one I will be getting to complement my awesome bat lamp, when I am able to create the right space for both of them (I’m currently having trouble finding a professional to help with the project).

That afternoon we spent at the Gulbenkian Museum, which unfortunately I don’t have time or space to properly present or discuss here (owing to, among other things, no pictures). Briefly stated, I was very impressed with the Egyptian small antiquities room, the various Persian and Caucasus rugs (especially the Caucasus dragon example), and the 16th century Iznik pottery (specifically the plates, better than any I remember from Turkey). There were some nice paintings as well.

For dinner that night, Mom and I walked to the Rua das Portas de Santo Antão, not too far from the hotel, and found a nice comfortable restaurant (even though it was rather populated with other people as well) among the mayhem of the street. We shared a plate of four sardines, and two large prawns (at $19, or 27 euros, each), along with some Vinho Verde (silent “e” at the end). We also split two desserts: a very egg-y cream custard, and a frozen cheese mouse with berries. It was quite a nice meal. I’ll write more about the food of Portugal and Spain later.

Our last stop in Lisbon, on our way out of the city the next morning, was the Eduardo VII Park, up the hill from the Marquês de Pombal Plaza. This is not really a picture of the April the 25th Monument by João Cutileiro:

And this is not really a picture of the park, the Marquês de Pombal statue, the Baixa district, and the Rio Tejo beyond:

They are merely expressions generated by traveling, being away from home, and spending time in Lisbon.

Okay, maybe this whole thing wasn’t so Joe Friday.