Last Stop, Lisbon, Day 19
All prepared for our next Portugal adventure. Another light breakfast then down to the lobby with our bags. No sooner did we step off the elevator than a husky, bearded man with a smiling face stepped up to me “John?” He held up a sign, “John Ponsicree?” I don’t correct anymore. “Yup,” I replied, “let’s go.”
We entered yet another immaculate black Mercedes sedan. Remarking on riding in such luxury, I asked if the driver owned the car. He told us, no, it was a company car and he was very careful with it. We told him we were impressed. As with all our other rides, it was not only plush, but in immaculate condition. He said he had to keep it that way, then shocked us by saying it was a 12 year old vehicle.
The ride to the train station was longer than usual. We talked of many things – in America, in Portugal, and in the Ukraine. Interesting that our driver refused to use Putin’s name. Would only refer to him as “that crazy guy.” He suggested that the “crazy guy” was doing what he was doing to keep his own military industrial complex humming. Maybe. I think it has much more to do with ego. Our driver was quite animated while talking, his hands flew about as if he were a pilot describing a dogfight.
Stood in the train station before the arrivals screen for 20 minutes waiting to see what track to transfer to. Ended up being #8 out of the 16 tracks available. Moved there via an underground tunnel and had not long to wait. Our tickets assigned us carriage four, seats 21 & 23. We carried two large suitcases and a carry-on, worried about available storage space. Needn’t have worried. Plenty available in the front and rear of the cars as well as in overhead racks. It was a three-hour trip, at times a little frightening as the train leaned , bucked and jumped at times so much so that standing people found themselves sitting in other people’s laps – myself included. Nothing at all like the smooth ride between Barcelona and Madrid.
As we stepped off the train, pleased to find our new driver ready and waiting on the platform. He led us briskly down the escalators through the station to his immaculate, black Mercedes sedan in the parking lot. This driver was a bit more reticent. But did impart some interesting information. We mentioned how we had been charmed by the extensive tile on the buildings and by the attractive stone mosaics on the sidewalks. He told us that the tilework was due to the influence of the Moors and that the stone mosaics were the influence of the Romans.
Our new hotel was the Lisbo Plaza, a Family owned business, less than a third the size of our previous hotel in Porto. Both were high end enterprises, however, our Porto hotel catered to the well to do and was fairly dismissive of its other clients. The Lisbo Plaza truly believed in customer service on every conceivable level.
Case in point. After settling into our rooms. I took a relaxing shower but found the temperature and pressure lacking. When Jen attempted hers, she found no cold water and almost scalded herself. We reported it and the Assistant Manager immediately came to investigate. Extremely apologetic, he promised a plumber would investigate while we were out to dinner. If nothing could be done he would transfer us to another room. When we returned we found the plumber had fixed the problem. We also found a bottle of premium port there by way of apology.
After settling in, we roamed around a bit. Our hotel is located just off of the main avenue, Avenida Libertade. It is broad with a wide parklike center strip and three lane one-way roads to either side. Trees lined the center strip as well as the side streets. Also in the center are ponds, memorials and a string of short order eateries called “Banana Cafes.” Jen and I had lunch at one: Crunchy Shrimp Wraps with blanched, seasoned almonds. Delish.
We about faced and continued to roam the avenue in the opposite direction. Noticed for the first time that we were in the high rent district. Stores sporting the familiar names: Armani, Prada, Gucci, Dior, Ralph Lauren, Rolex, Hugo Boss and Yves St. Laurent lined both sides of the avenue. Couldn’t do more than window shop. Traveled on to find two large plazas each with its own grand central monument. Saw many grand buildings 4- 5 stories high some plain, some swathed in magnificent stone decorations. Veered off and up into another of the narrow, twisty roads we were getting used to. Wasn’t long before we were lost. After a half hour of aimless wandering we found our way back to the main avenue, footsore and hungry.
Our dinner took place two blocks away at Maxine’s, an expensive-looking restaurant that turned out to be quite reasonable and fun as well. Maxine’s is a popular venue that offers live entertainment on the weekend. It is an avant-garde establishment that once had a reputation as a strip joint. Now it’s an upscale place playing on its risqué reputation. The menu offered such fun dishes as Naked Sexy Salmon, Tipsy Shrimp, Sultan’s Potion, Catchy Codfish Vampire Lust, Italian Lust and Melting Pleasure. Artistic plates adorned one wall with suggestive messages. “Taste me, Lick it up and Eat me.”
Our server was a white native South African by the name of Miro, Friendly and on time when we needed him. He was shocked when we correctly identified his accent. At the end of our meal he brought us – gratis - A pair of ruby red candy lips and an experimental cocktail the bartender called a Shzi-Shzi based on the local traditional liquor. It was a delicious, homerun cocktail.
Back to the room, we found the shower repaired and the surprise bottle of port I told you about as well as ... another welcoming bed.
Boa Noite.
I am posting a selection of the thousands of pictures we took on Facebook. Look me up there and see what we saw!