Lisbon Lives in April

Lisbon lives in April.  The brilliant green of new leaves fills the center of the avenues and boulevards.  Verdant shoots and sprigs of new foliage contrast with the pastel yellows, pinks and dusty almost olive colors buildings.  

 

With spring coming on, the outdoor cafes take the portable heaters inside.  Cafe seats along the broad sidewalks lining thoroughfares are packed at both the lunch and dinner hours. Plates of pork, or mussels, or grilled octopus are set before a hungry public.  With each plate there is a wine glass filled well. Be it a fine dining restaurant or a snack bar serving a seafood sopa you will find the umbrellas are up and people are talking, drinking and eating.

 

Easter weekend in the non-touristic areas of the city felt like someone had spirited away the population through some kind of magic. Stores were closed and people were simply gone.  People went to the beach perhaps.  Perhaps they went to the family’s quinta in some rural region. Walking the streets looking at the emerging blossoms and the architecture of old gates and doorways was as fine as fine could be.

 

Now mind you in the touristic areas the madness has begun.  Easter break/spring break and the spots Rick Steves asserts are must sees are packed. Lots of people vying to get on the streetcars to Belem to see the monuments and the monastery, had that look.  You know the look.  It translates into something like this, “If I take one more subway ride the wrong direction, or if I get off one stop too early or too late again, I am going to lose it.” In shorts and ball caps they try to take it all in within seven days. 

 

Of course, there are the people who refuse to be pressured to check sights to be seen off a list.  On Friday night these folks were crowded onto the Miradouro de São Pedro de Alcântara. At this miradouro, a plaza cantilevered over the edge of one of Lisbon’s hills providing a spectacular nighttime view, the music was loud, the drinks were flowing and people gazed longingly, or maybe wistfully, down into  the valley of central Lisbon.  Principe Real and the traversas, stone pathways down the sides of the hill leading from the overlook to the main squares were jammed with people. Warm enough that short sleeves were fine, people blissfully gazed off scanning up and down the width and breadth of Lisbon.

 

And the birds.  Oh the birds.  Our neighborhood is currently filled with noisy cackling swifts.