Lisbon

To celebrate the end of my first semester of teaching, I set off with eight of my colleagues to explore the westernmost coast of Europe: Lisbon, Portugal. If I had been able to anticipate the beauty that awaited us, the colors of the city and sky, and the joy of the Portugese, I would've thought twice about buying a return ticket.

For years, I’ve dreamed of traveling to Central and South America where vivid colors are spread on every building, and I often wondered why I continue to return to Europe where the style of architecture, although admittedly striking and full of history, is grandiose, proper and less my style. I had no idea that Portugal carried such a vibrant style, and it amazed me that something so historically and eccentrically colorful exists in Europe.

When we left Bordeaux, we left behind a rainy gray spell, and I was so grateful to be greeted by the clearest blue sky in Lisbon.  The windows of the somewhat dilapidated buildings reflected the exact color of the sky and seeing that rich blue framed between  tangerine-orange and lavender buildings was a dream.  

The houses that aren't painted in bold hues are often plastered with hand painted tiles, a fashion that began when Lisbon was under Moorish rule in the 15th century.  The trend went out of style for hundreds of years, but was rejuvenated in the 50's and has since taken over the city.  Looking around at those elaborate designs, I wasn’t sure if I was still living or had died and gone up to see the Lord.

Having only just gained their independence in 1974, the whole city of Lisbon hums with a vivacity and freedom that I can only imagine finding in a country that has recently left rigid oppression.  The dictatorship came to an end about 40 years ago when rebel troops marched through the city center, guns loaded with ammunition and topped off with red carnations. 

The guide on our free walking tour, a surfer and photographer from the south of Portugal, beamed with pride as he recounted his country's history and sang their independence song.  He said the carnations were given out  with the hope that the petals would be the only red shed during the coup d’état.  In the end, the revolution occurred with very little violence and the carnation remains a symbol of the power of nonviolence and the value of peace.

We continued to see Portuguese history unfold as we took the train to Sintra on the last day of our trip. The coastal town holds the relics of multiple royal families and we found ourselves overcome with glee as we walked along the Moorish Castle wall, climbed down inverted towers at Quinta da Regaleira, and watched the sunset from the romanticist Pena Palace. We were struck by the distinct power of such regimes.  From the top of the hill, overlooking the endless open ocean, one could truly start to believe that they ruled the entire world.

Needless to say, I left Portugal feeling like a queen and I’m already trying to set a date to go back in the summertime looking for some sunshine and waves.  For the meantime, Lisbon filled my soul with color and light.