You forget about jet lag until you’re in it. Usually it’s at night time when you should be going to bed, like last night.
I walked for hours yesterday, pleasantly exhausted by the time I returned to my place, the Lux Residence. It’s ideal. Dark. Quiet. A comfortable bed. But it didn’t happen.
Sleep that is. I turned on the television and surfed. Junk for the most part. Then the Hollywood channel. One movie after another. Three in all. None I’d heard of and little that can be said about them. At 2PM I’d seen enough and gave it a try, but still couldn’t sleep.
A week ago I started listening to “Don Quixote” - “El ingeniosa hidalgo don Quixote de la Mancha” in Spanish. I thought it would be good preparation, the story of a knight-errant and all. Early this morning, I learned that it’s a cure for insomnia. Having packed as light as possible, I hadn’t brought a sleep aid. At nearly forty hours in length, “Don Quixote” should serve me well.
Old Lisboa is a delight - its architecture, plazas, outdoor cafes, its energy - a winter escape for Scandinavians, the British, and anyone needing a vitamin D boost. It’s a city where sea food reigns supreme,
and pastries are a close second.
Yesterday morning I hung with the tourists. In the afternoon I wandered the back streets, like you’re supposed to do if you want to dip below the surface.
There was the street art - provocative and anonymous.
The sand art, anonymous as well.
And the young French woman on a quiet alley with dreams, perhaps, of gallery displays in her future.
Returning to the Metro, I realized that Lisboa is a city of hills, providing exercise for the needy and trolley cars for the weary.
Today Pa and I will return for more.
Fred Van Liew
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