Sunday, November 1, 2009

Didn't your mother ever tell you NOT to accept food from strangers?

Yes, she probably did.

I could sit here and tell you every single detail about Lisbon (Lisbon, Portugal for those of you who are unsure of where it is), but I won't bore you with everything. Only the good stuff for you all. Only the good stuff...

We got to Lisbon Saturday morning, October 24, and within maybe an hour of being there, we found an outstanding view. This is honestly one of the most beautiful cities I've been to. It is a city that thrives on simplicity, and bright yellow trolleys, of course. Every view I saw was breathtaking.

After wandering around for a few hours, seeing Lisbon's traditional flee market that happens every Saturday, going to a free Portugese wine tasting, and going on a free (yes, free) trolley ride through the city, we had the most wonderful dinner 26 euros could buy. The meal included appetizers, soup, main course, dessert, wine and bread, of course. To top it off, the food was accompanied by Portugal's traditional music, Fado- such a cultural experience.

The following day, our group split up: half wandered the city while three other girls and I went to the monastery. As you can imagine, it was gorgeous. High ceilings, marble pillars, stained glass windows, the whole shabang. After admiring the gorgeous architecture of the church, collecting that Sunday's readings, wandering through a park and settling by the river for about 30 minutes, the girls and I decided to head back to meet up with the rest of the gang for lunch.

During our saunter back through the park toward the trolley (that would take us back to the hostel), we noticed so many people outside: picnicking and enjoying the beautiful weather. As typical, starving college students do, we stared, and probably drooled a little bit, as the jealousy of their full bellies (and our empty ones) set in. Luckily for us, they noticed. Or at least one man did because he called us over, only to offer us some chicken, bread and (obviously) wine. He didn't speak english. Or spanish. Neither did the other people with him. They seemed harmless enough though; we were starving, and well, it was free, so we accepted the food. We later figured out that he was from some retired people association of some sort (he was wearing a name tag). The language barrier was probably the best part about it though. No, sir, no matter how many times you say, "Elvis bourga Portugal," we still don't speak Portugese, and we still have no idea what you are saying.

Needless to say, Lisbon was awesome, and certainly a weekend I will never forget.

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