A walk in Alfama

Washing hanging out to dry against a building facade covered entirely with centuries-old intricate painted tiles. This sight could only be Lisbon.

I went walking this week in Alfama, Lisbon's oldest quarter, and these are some of my favourite images I took away. 

Alfama spreads up one of the city's seven hills from the castle at the top, down to the river Tagus. Though 'sprawls' is a better word for the steep, winding, narrow cobbled lanes and alley-ways, where you will almost certainly get lost.

Looking down ... 

and up ...

This is the original city of Lisbon, settled successively by the Romans, Visigoths, Moors (who gave it its Arabic name, from al-hamma, meaning fountains or baths), Christian crusaders, and was a refuge for Jews in the 1500s. Traces of all these occupants are here.

There is a strong sense of community here (though I took few photos of people, who must be thoroughly sick of being photographed by curious tourists), as many inhabitants have lived here all their lives. Traditionally a neighbourhood of some of the city's poorest inhabitants, their livelihood has been protected by rent-control, though this has also meant that repair of the oldest homes is neglected.

A set of bells (do they still work?) connects to successive floors of this apartment ...

and a pigeon nests in a hole in the rooftop ...

Pots of sweet basil on a window ledge are a reminder that the feast day of St Anthony, patron saint of Lisbon has recently passed. Giving and displaying basil is one of the traditions attached to this festa in mid-June.

Tiles are everywhere, telling their own stories - the word for them also given by the Moors (azulejos from Arabic azzelij, meaning small polished stone) ...

It's easy to understand why fado, Portugal's sad, soulful music, has its origins in all the lives that have been lived out in this quarter.

Towards midday, tables were being set at tiny restaurants, cloths laid out and menus displayed ...

Though finally, not all was millennia old here - I loved this sexy leg someone had attached outside a window (sending what message?) ...

and the bright plastic flowers decorating a tiny balcony with a view to the river ...

Nuns and tarts in historic Belém

Patisseries are as ubiquitous in Lisbon as they are in Paris, only they're called pastelarias. Probably the most famous pastelaria of all is the one in Belém where Portugal's best-known pastry export, the pastel de nata (custard tart) originated. 

Pastéis de nata can be found all over the world, from my local coffee shop in north London, to South Africa/Australia/Hong Kong or pretty much anywhere where Luso-Brazilian communities congregate. But it all started almost two hundred years ago, right here in Belém, just outside the city of Lisbon ...

... with a recipe developed by nuns in the next-door Jerónimos monastery in the early 1800s. Their original recipe is the one still used at Pastéis de Belém and is a closely guarded secret known only to the master confectioners here.

It doesn't look that big from the outside, but inside is a seemingly endless series of haphazardly connected, cavernous rooms, all decorated with the classic blue and white azulejos (tiles) of the 18th century, wrought iron doors and lanterns ...

It is permanently busy, always crowded. But the seeming chaos is overseen by implacable and efficient waiters who keep the orders moving smoothly and efficiently, while checking politely that the relentless stream of customers are satisfied and gently advising the tourists that a sprinkling of cinnamon is de rigeur and will enhance the flavour of the legendary pastries ...

They look pretty ordinary as pastries go, but one bite of these, feather-light and freshly piping hot from the oven, and you're in pastry heaven, guaranteed. Three or four pastéis later (yes, they are that seriously addictive) and you're in danger of slipping into a pastry coma ...

And in the front foyer of the house, a separate take-away business flourishes. Ever since 1837 locals (and more recently tourists) have flocked to this place to buy their original-version pastéis de nata as take-aways, warm from the oven. On any day of the week you will see queues snaking out the door and down the street ...

On week-days they sell a staggering average of 12 000 pastéis de nata over the counter every day, and on weekend days closer to 20 000!

... though in typical Portuguese fashion, there's always a moment to spare for a chat with special customers ...

Stumbling back out into the street this last Sunday morning, post-pastel-de-nata-fest, we found ourselves in the midst of marching bands and the changing of the guard at the president's palace. I wriggled into a spot behind this cute little chap (top left), who started barking furiously (from the safe vantage-point of his mistress's arms) as the big boys of the parade approached ...

... and then followed the guards down the road to the place where the pastry business began - the monastery of Jerónimos  ... 

... better known, to be fair, as the site where, in the heyday of Portuguese expansionism, ships departed and returned from their voyages of discovery to Africa and the East. Built by the Infante Dom Henrique (Henry the Navigator), fleets and their crews were blessed here before leaving on their epic journeys to unknown worlds.

At midday on Sunday the monastery was cleared of casual visitors for the Angelus, as the bells tolled at 12.00, and a sung mass identical to the one the 15th century sailors would have attended (except for no longer being in Latin) ...

The explorer Vasco da Gama is entombed here (bottom right), along with Camoes, poet and chronicler of the sea voyages (top left) and other famous poets and writers including Fernando Pessoa.

... Portugal's rich history all wrapped up in the humble custard tart.

Bom Dia, Lisboa

Random scenes from Lisbon this last weekend ...

(Click on photos to enlarge)

Tram ascending the steep Calçada de Gloria

Lunchtime chat, Avenida da Liberdade

Scenes from the Baixa (downtown Lisbon), including views up to the Castle of S. Jorge (top left), clock on the Arco do Triunfo (bottom right), a tower of the Sé (cathedral, bottom left), a bica (expresso) at Pastelaria Suiça, Rossio (centre)

View from the bottom of the Rua Augusta through the Arco do Triunfo to Praça do Comércio

Changing of the president's guard at Belém National Palace

View of the newer part of the city from Principe Real ('LOSTin' café/bar)

Eléctrico (tram) descending Rua do Comércio

Clockwise from top left: colourful Vespas parked in Belém gardens, dome of Jeronimos monastery, two happy daughters, street organist with pocket-sized dog and mobile phone.

I am lucky enough to be working in this lovely city for two weeks. More posts and pics will follow ...

Sardinhas e Escadinhas

Or how a quest for the perfect grilled sardines led to discovery of the perfect beach ...

Sardinhas assadas - fresh sardines grilled on charcoal - are a quintessential Portuguese summertime dish, a kind of national signature, as gelato is to Italy or crepes to France. Best eaten outdoors, charred with the taste of a hot smoky barbecue grill, oiled and rock-salted.  


Searching for a particular wooden deck of a particular family-run beach restaurant, simple and rustic, where six years ago we ate sardinhas with a bottle of house wine watching the sun set on the sea ... well, this proved difficult. 


Except that one red herring led us to walk all the way down the Escadinhas (little steps) da Cova Redonda - many, many little cobbled steps, in fact, gently descending to the sea ...

where we found ourselves on a perfect, tiny beach in a cove surrounded by huge rocks to the right ...

and left ...

... cutting it off from the rest of the coastline.

These are the giant, golden rock formations that Algarve beaches are best known for, along with caves, grottos, and the blue-green colours of the sea. 

This seagull barely moved from his high-rise on the rock-face the whole time we were there ...

and with so few people, it felt like being on an exclusive private beach - what luck! ...

This little girl was being towed on her lilo by her father, floating languidly on his back ...

and these two men were chatting as they paddled a little way out to sea ...

A sailor in nautical Breton stripes and white cap motored around the rocks to offer a ride to the caves, but there were no takers (no tourists here) and he sped off ...

We never found the original place from memory, but many escadinhas later, we did find sardinhas (first pic) on a nearby beach, much longer but still uncrowded 

... right here, on a raised wooden deck ...

with these views ...

Did he catch our sardines earlier that morning?