Lisboa hostel

Due to the rain, it was a cool night and cold air was coming in through the open balcony door. So was traffic noise, including rubbish trucks loading in the middle of the night. But closing the doors would have made the room stuffy so I accepted the lesser of two evils by putting on my ear plugs. The guy in the bunk above had stinky boots and was a sleeptalker.


The refectory was crowded. The hostel was full of German and French students. Many of them still had tags on their luggage. I think they were looking for more permanent accommodation before the University term started.

Unfortunately the Gulbenkian Museum was also full of students, of the high-school variety, on educational visits. I find classical painting dull and prefer bright modern art or unconventional materials or methods, so I limited myself to those sections. I took a lunch of seafood rice in the cafeteria, which was quite tasty. There was a mix of visitors and workers eating there.

Gray skies again, portending rain. Out of boredom I started reading the guides on São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro. I caught the recommended ferry ride from Cais do Sodré to Cacilhas, on the other side of the Tejo, to have a look. The weather was lousy so all I took was this photo. Cacilhas looks better than this in other online photos.

I had a nap, then prepared to go for dinner. On a spur, I talked to the Brazilian in my dorm. It turned out he was from Rio de Janeiro and waiting for a Portuguese passport so that he could go work in Germany as an actor. He showed me a wound on his abdomen. He had been slashed by muggers in Lisboa. He bemoaned the irony: Brazilian cities were noted in tourist guides as places to be very cautious of personal safety and yet this happened to him in Europe.

As a result of this chat, I was introduced to 4 other Brazilians in the hostel, one woman from São Paulo, two men from Porto Alegre and another Carioca. They had not met before coming to the hostel. We Brazilians are like this, said one, five minutes and we are chums. I liked their country already. We went for dinner together. Several restaurants were closed but we found a Portuguese diner serving simple fare. I enjoyed my bifano (steak) with rice and salad.

But the fun really started when we got back to the hostel and dance music was put on in the refectory/bar. Beer started flowing and bodies swayed on the floor. We were a mixed lot. Besides the Brazilians there was French woman from Brittany, teaching French in Albufeira, who was a great fan of Portuguese and Brazilian culture and knew the lyrics of many Brazilian songs by heart. A Danish student in Lisboa. An East German with very little command of anything but German, but enjoying Mediterranean culture for a change. Two Aussie girls from Sydney travelling together. Motto above hostel bar: All different, all same.


I had to have a shower before bed because I was so sweaty. More reserved cultures are accustomed to think of sweatiness as abnormal but Latin cultures accept it as a condition of existence. Also sexuality: Brazilian dance can be very suggestive, the closest you can get to vertical sex without nudity.