And I pretended to be Prospero from The Tempest because I’m an English teacher and a big-time nerd like that.

Cascais, Portugal. February 2013.

Cascais, Portugal. February 2013.

Then we took a cab 30 minutes outside of the city to a little resort town on the coast called Cascais. We stayed in an old fort right on the marina that had been redesigned into a hotel. The air was fresh, the wind was fierce, and the sun came out to play.

Lisbon, Portugal. February 2013.

Lisbon, Portugal. February 2013.

poor but sexy

The economic hardships are hard to ignore. On the outskirts of Lisbon, as the cab weaves through streets and hops on highways, the eye is drawn to the abandoned warehouses, the graffitied walls that were once bars and restaurants; boarded-up windows and unlit neon signs that had illuminated in a former life, welcoming those who wanted to let down their hair and drink a caipirinha or two. Even in the heart of the city, there are newer edifices that have closed down, or projects that have been put on hold.

But the Portuguese are hearty, steadfast people. They are proud of their city, they are proud of their culture, and they are planting new life into the parts that were left barren.

And this is what I fell in love with. The energy, the vibrant and unique nature of each store, each restaurant, each bar, each person. The winding cobblestone streets that lure you in, helping you get lost and stumble upon a novelty shop with local ceramic goods—each detail hand-painted, or a bakery where an elderly woman serves you a freshly-baked breakfast for under 3 euros (for two!).  The tram cars rolling through the streets, ringing their bells at passersby; rugged, bumpy in the tracks, but elegant all the same. The menus laden with what’s fresh, and what’s been caught that day: sea bass, octopus, lobster, crab, cod, shrimp—and the smell of it all being grilled on a charcoal fire. The late mornings that turn into late nights. The history, the hand-laid designs of the sidewalk, the gorgeous but unfamiliar sounds of the language, the guitar and somber voices of fado.

We were walking the streets of Lisbon on our last night in the city, and Nathan made the comment that Lisbon, much like Berlin, was ‘poor but sexy.’ And it is. It’s beautiful and alluring, and it flirts with you in all of the right ways.

We didn’t see the Queen

but we had a royal time in London.

Our trip included but was not limited to:

• Staying in South Kensington with dear friends from university, discussing their wedding details (here we come Puerto Rico!!) over creative cocktails at Apero at the Ampersand Hotel.
• Exploring Picadilly, Oxford Street, Regent Street and so on and so on until our feet (and wallets) needed relief
• Feeling like a kid in a candy store at Harrod’s; so many floors to discover, but of course the food market (did you see the lemon stuffed pheasants wrapped in bacon and covered in truffle oil?!) was the favorite
• Fighting the crowds and scoring the best seat in the house at Burger and Lobster (I’m still dreaming of that meal!).
• Date night with my favorite man to see Wicked, complete with a glass of Veuve at intermission.

And Indian curry, and the museums, and the parks, and the markets, and the tradition, and so much more…we really only scratched the surface and cannot wait until our next trip back!

The best part? We leave again next week. Only this time it’s to Paris. And we get to see DPCsquared! Oh let the adventures begin…

14 juillet celebration dinner. A wonderful outdoor restaurant complete with colorful lights strung from the plane tree branches above, a local band with trumpets, bass, accordion, and a lead opera singer, cigars and cognac, a petanque match, and swing dancing under the starry night sky.

Perfection.

Our alarm, and local goodies.

Chardon, France 2012.

Me & the lavender fields before the harvest.

Chardon, France 2012.