HEAD FOR THE HILLS OF LISBON
KENNETH BAGNELL

Belleville Intelligencer
=1576429
May 21 2009
Canada

They call Lisbon the City of Seven Hills for good reason: When we’ve
gone for walks we’re almost always going up somewhere or coming down
from somewhere.

The inclines may be steep or slight, but two things are sure:
Each offers dramatic views and is filled with vibrant life. Maybe
a demonstration is getting underway, maybe there’s a wedding at
an old stone church, maybe a tiny cafe crowd is spilling onto the
alleyway. That’s what makes Lisbon a lively, even sensual city,
one you feel embraced by an hour after arriving.

There’s another less known aspect of Lisbon: Its past always lives in
its present. Even terrible events — like Nov. 1, 1755, when 30,000
or more residents perished in what is called The Great Earthquake —
are still there.

"Portuguese speak of it constantly as if it just occurred," says
writer Marion Kaplan, who has lived in Lisbon for many years. "They
speak of it as a personal experience. In some ways it is."

That is Lisbon’s life. It’s part of "saudade," the longing for the
past, which is never truly past. As you stroll its passageways in the
evening, this nostalgic pining is evident in the melancholy songs of
fado that float from tiny tavernas.

This time in Lisbon, my wife and I — joined by our son, his wife
and small son — chose Hotel Tivoli on the main promenade, Avenida
da Liberdade. The avenue is 100 metres wide, lined with huge palms
and sweeps north for about 1.5 km, in places resembling the grand
boulevards of London or Paris.

Hotel Tivoli, opened in 1933, is the dream of a young businessman and
a lawyer friend. It’s a slightly formal place with a gleaming lobby
and courteous staff.

The location is ideal for those who, like us, prefer to be close to
what we want to see. It’s easy to explore on foot using the three
funiculars — or elevadores — that take you up the inclines. The main
old neighbourhoods with names that are part of the city’s vocabulary
— Bairro Alta, the Baixia and the most historic, the Alfama —
are perfect for walking.

It’s probably true that of all Lisbon’s neighbourhoods, the Alfama
is the most enduring. It wasn’t destroyed by the Great Earthquake
and has some of the city’s oldest buildings.

It’s worth spending part of a day wandering its streets (called becos)
which are the narrowest you may ever walk — sometimes only 2 metres
across. No map can help — it’s a maze atop a maze.

You’ll see small artifacts of very old Lisbon, when Alfama was the
most stylish of neighbourhoods, and signs of past opulence in the
small white and blue azulejos (glazed tiles) created by Arabic Moors
or those whose came after them. When the Moors left, Alfama became
a neighbourhood of working people, often fishermen and stevedores.

Walk to the grounds of ancient St. George’s Castle, where you’re at
the top of Lisbon’s highest hills. A stroll through the castle grounds’
olive groves and cork trees is pleasurable.

Make time to stop awhile at Alfama’s historic Se, or cathedral,
Lisbon’s oldest building, contructed in the 12th century. Despite its
sombre exterior, it’s worth entering to see the historic treasures,
including the font where the revered Anthony of Padua, Portugal’s
patron saint, was baptized soon after it was created so very long ago.

And do return for one last view over the castle wall: The scene below
of Lisbon’s Alfama is almost beyond spectacular.

*

In early 1955, Calouste Gulbenkian lay on his death bed in Lisbon. Born
in Turkey of Armenian parents and a Portugal resident since 1942,
Gulbenkian was said to be the wealthiest man in the world back then,
mainly through oil investment.

But he was also renowned as perhaps the world’s foremost art
collector. He began collecting as a young man and is said to have
spoken one line about his standard as a collector: "Nothing but the
best is good enough."

Gulbenkian’s acquisitions reveal a man of superb taste as well as great
gifts of negotiation. In time he owned 5,000 pieces in every artist’s
medium, from every period and every culture. His will establishing a
charitable foundation, made his treasure available for public viewing.

As someone said of him: "For Portugal he was a treasure of pure gold."

No visit to Lisbon, makes sense without a visit to The Gulbenkian
Museum housed in a low building, shaded by park-like landscape on
Avenue de Berna and still walkable from our hotel. You could spend
days here, seeing so many fine objects of every kind and age. I
filled several pages of my notebook with reminders like these: Superb
prehistoric funerary statue; a 16thcentury painting of a Moorish
chimney; incredible etched Greek coins; and European masters by Monet,
Rembrandt, Rubens, Van Dyck and more . It was not our first visit to
the Gulbenkian, I truly hope it won’t be our last.

*

Lisbon, being a place of vibrant life is thereby a place of cafes. Most
remain unpretentious family places on narrow alleys, where mother,
father, often sons and daughters, have tended to kitchen and table
for years, which suits us well.

I walked to one– Restaurante O Forninho Saloio — repeatedly with
Barbara, our son, daughter-in-law and grandson. The cafe was along
a narrow alleyway — Travessa Das Parreiras — and had panels of
azulejos on its walls, about a dozen tables and customers who were
obviously regulars. One told us it was a bakery long ago, until a
family bought it about 20 years ago.

Sometimes we had codfish — a staple the Portuguese call bacalau and
claim they can cook 365 ways — and a couple of times I had a tasty
shish kebab. We always had a bottle of wine, deliberately choosing
the house offering, which in Portugal is invariably pleasant, gull
and smooth, usually from Alentejo, the country’s best wine producing
region.

One day on the last walk, we came upon a restaurant of such striking
decor, we returned later for dinner. It was The Trindade, a cafe on
the site of a monastery built eight centuries ago. (In the 1830s,
it became a brewery.) Its rooms are large and warm with colour and
its artistic wall panels speak of profound history.

"In these rooms," says its official record, "we can safely say there
has not been a single day over the past seven centuries, when it has
not received visitors …"

Naturally, in an atmosphere filled with such echoes of Portugual’s
yesterdays, you’ll be reminded one more time of how deeply the past
is, indeed, part of the present in Lisbon.