In Lisbon, there’s a part of the city where your map isn’t likely to help you.
It’s a dense warren of narrow cobblestoned streets and alleyways spread across a hillside. Take one turn, then another, then another, before realising you’re right back where you started. The only certainty is that some streets lead generally uphill, and others down. You start to recognise the same doorways and turnings, the same window boxes, the same bars, but you can never be quite sure.
It’s easy to get lost in Alfama, and that’s a real joy, because this is a real neighbourhood, complete with washing lines, budgies chirping from their balcony-balanced cages, barbecues sizzling with sardines, and people deep in conversation window to window, passing or receiving the day’s’ gossip. To wander around Alfama feels akin to stepping into somebody’s home, and the more you wander, the more familiar it becomes … the same couple of puppies playing in a courtyard, the same woman at work painting tiles, the same kids on their bikes, haring around with little regard for anything.
It’s a wonderful place.
There are restaurants, too, plenty of them.
Santo António de Alfama is tucked into a corner just off one of the main squares, a spot where people sit and listen to the excellent fado trio another of the restaurants on the square proper hosts every night. Many people sit on a certain set of steps, watching the world pass by without realising that just behind their backs hides one of Alfama’s, and indeed Lisbon’s, little jewels. More…
