Home » Portugal » Escape from LAgos (12 Random Musings on Portugal and Cadiz)

1) Portugal is definetly and defiantly not Spain. Before I arrived, I too would have been hard pressed to distinguish between Portugal and its larger Iberian cousin. Portugal does however, retain an immediate and distinct atmosphere of its own, although this atmosphere is hard to define. I suppose it seems somewhat Carribean or South American to me, although having never been to the Carribean or South America I'm not exactly an authority on the matter. But it is certainly multicultural and seems much more exotic than other european countries

Escape from LAgos (12 Random Musings on Portugal and Cadiz)

James Taylor
2006-08-23 11:38:12

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the brain. Though I would certainly not claim to be able to speak any of them properly, I do try to at least learn a few basic phrases in the local lingo. Having come straight from Portugal and soon heading to Morocco, where French is the second language, this all became rather confusing in Cadiz, a Spanish city. I would find myself speaking some sort of hybrid French/Portugese even during the most basic of transactions. And inevitably in thanks, I would blurt out 'Obrigado' (the Portugese word for thank you), which is probably about the most insulting thing you can do in southern Spain.

12) Lisbon (and Portugal in general) seems to be perpetually underated, and I want to in some way refute this label. I really liked Lisbon. I liked the, refreshing, laid-back atmosephere that seemed to be missing from most intense Spanish cities. I liked it's architecture. Old and decaying as the buildings were, they had infinetly more charm than anything more modern. It was almost as if the decay itself lent the narrow streets of the Alfama and the Barrio Alto it's unique charm. These historical districts would have been much less picturesque without the unevenly spaced cobblestones, the missing tiling, the rotting door frames, and the narrow little houses that seem about ready to collapse. I like the ancient little wooden trams that clank up and down the steepest streets with a speed that belies both their construction and their age. And I
also like the hills, though I moaned about them at the time, because without them one wouldn't be blessed with the opportuunity of rounding a corner and discovering yet another fantastic view. Without them I wouldn't have been able to look out across the river from the battlement of the Castelo Sao Jorge an imagine what it was like to be a sentry on duty 200 years ago. I don't like the hash sellers pretending to be hawking sunglasses who follow you mercilessly, but I've learnt to deal with that since. I like the way that almost every car is old and beat up yet retains a style that eludes some of the newer models. Most of all I like the way that the light in the evening bathes everything in a beatifically warm glow and for half an hour or so it would feel like I was wandering round with yellow filters over my eyes.