Today, we bring you a special guest bog post from Nojo206 friend and Lisbon visitor, Mike.

"A city, like everything else, can best be described in its own prose. Just as Manhattan, Brooklyn and the Bronx ebb and flow with the hustle but maintain a distinct flavor, so too does any other city feel familiar and strange all at once. In my admittedly limited experience, Lisbon is stranger and more interesting than most. For such a proud and longstanding member of the European fraternity, I have an extraordinarily limited knowledge of the history of the country. I know of Vasco de Gama’s trip to India, I know that Brazil was a tributary, I know that its language is different from Spanish despite its close proximity, and I know that it is a member of the PIGS. Beyond that, I have known very little. Of course, I have been missing out. I’ll write more in the future about my plane ride, as usual an uncomfortable medley of ups and downs, joys and miseries, smells both bad and good. But for now, I can’t miss the opportunity to write. Norm has just left to attend language class, at which he seems to excel. In a few short months, he has become at least conversational with the Lisbonese we met today. I was struck most clearly by this at lunch, which for me consisted of a delightful melange of pork, rice, and french fries -- America is not so very far, after all – and which for Norm contained all of one delicious-looking sandwich and, again, the ubiquitous fry. Our waitress, a very attractive woman who, while perhaps not gushingly friendly, was certainly pleasant and attentive, and who after asking for my order correctly took my look of total incomprehension to mean that she should connect with my host, who had obviously frequented the place before. Norm was obliging, as usual, and she came away satisfied. Meanwhile, the proprietor of the place stopped by to wish Norm a pleasantry and with the slight but noticable gusto of a man taking gentle pleasure in the awkwardness of unavoidable cultural dissonance, patted my friend on the shoulder in the type of solidarity that can only be granted by the intangible bonds of linguistic familiarity. In short, Norm gets along just fine. We spent the day pursuing two goals. The first was a pursuit of my declared intention to keep awake. I was at pains not to disappoint my friend by staggering zombie-like around such a beautiful European vista, so we searched quickly for coffee. Some was found immediately in the airport lounge, and while resembling nothing so much as a small espresso at home, was at least complimentary of my efforts to stay alert. Bean of far superior quality was to be found much later while sitting in a public square, surrounded by the buzz of early-morning conversationalists and about a dozen flies drifting lazily from leg to leg. The second goal was, of course, simple illumination. Upon leaving the airport, Norm and I purchased the service of a taxi that smelt somewhat of underarm sweat and a long day of work. It was here that I first noticed Norm’s easy familiarity with the language, as he and the driver conversed promptly about the appropriate location to which we requested transport. How to describe a new country? So many things are the same – blue skies, slight breezes, green grass and tall trees to name a few. But the differences, although clear at the time, elude description afterwards. I can only say that, even in that short trip, it was the little things that jumped to, and past, my attention. I want to pause for a minute to mention that, as I write this, the sound of a siren is screeching and scrawing down one of the long cluttered streets that run parallel to the apartment. It has taken me at least two minutes to understand that the siren exists at all, sounding precisely as would any police siren in New Jersey or New York. Until just now, I didn’t realize that in my own casual familiarity, I have ceased to acknowledge it as more than background noise, a trifle to be ignored. Another joy of travel – I realize that many of the differences and oddities I notice are actually no different or odd than anything at home. It’s my own sensitivity that has increased. And suddenly, I wonder – not for the first time – what beautiful things I have missed at home. But jumping back for the moment. Some changes are substantial. Lisbon is an old city by American standards, having been rebuilt after a major earthquake in 1755, but relatively young by European ones, and in general feeling. It is, for instance, the capital of Portugal unofficially. Whereas Washington, D.C. was declared directly as our home’s capital, Lisbon simply came to the position by default, and has been so for many hundreds of years. It emanates that curious blend in all the areas I have seen, although I have by no means seen anything like even a small minority of the place. The streets, immediately to be noticed, are small and not built for cars. The cars themselves, in fact, feel somewhat smaller than the gargantuan mounts we suffer to be called American automobiles. I can’t say that authoritatively with any foot or meter by measure, though. Perhaps they simply reflect the feeling of the city itself. As the taxi dropped us off as Norm requested – a cross-hatch of streets ending in various “sh” and “yuu” sounds, I was struck by the brilliance and gentleness of colors. My first impression was to compare the paint and shingles to southern Miami. Light blues the color of birds’ eggs flowed upward and outward in several directions while rusted terra cotta tiles graced the rooves of nearly every building. The most fascinating houses, and there are many, were lined with tiles of varying design and size, and outward-facing sheath of beauty that must have taken years beyond count to complete. The door themselves were smaller, hatched up step by step to match the grade of the rapid increase and decline of the cobble stone streets. And what streets! I’ve only seen work of the like in older areas of New York and Boston, though while our stones are larger and wider, the ones here are perhaps set better and more customly fitted. I mentioned this to Norm several times throughout the day as I walked, marveling at the amount of time and detail it must have taken to make so many roads like this. I wonder, isn’t Portugal suffering? Wouldn’t such efforts as much surely be expended to make such a beautiful patchwork go better into bringing industry, jobs and productivity to the region? It is beautiful, I thought, but why bother? Norm responded with what I believe was an excellent insight, and something that has stayed with me all day. “I think they do it because it’s beautiful,” he said. Or something to that effect. Clearly, it hasn’t stayed with me very exactly. But exiting the taxi, I paused for a broad and absolutely pleasureful smile. For this week, at least, I am not worried about my job or its highly-pressing deadlines and details. I don’t worry about bills or traffic. I am here simply to be here. And for today, that is enough."

More Lisbon street art/Mais arte de rua de Lisboa

The blog is not dead! Long live the blog! Here's a another batch of street art from Lisboa. This group is all from the same location, an abondoned, crumbling building located near the Castelo, down an old, well-hidden street. The walls of this building have become a type of canvas for street artisans, and you will see from these photos a pretty wide variety of styles on display here. I think this set is a good demonstration of why I am fond of street art - the impermanence of the art, as the walls crumble or get ripped down and others paint over what is old; the variety of creativity; and the connection of the art to a specific place - both the specific physical location of the art, as well as the urban context it is placed in.

First, here is the building I am referring to.

Note that it is surrounded by very nice buildings, yet is allowed to sit here and decompose. I think that aspect of the site is partly why I found it so compelling. It's not like this site is undesirable. Here's the view looking out from what would be the front of the building.

Build it up a few stories, and the view wouldn't even be obstructed by those roofs. Yet somehow, there this eroding skeleton of a building sits, finally serving a purpose as a surface for artists.

Here's some of art on display:

Here's a few more I really liked. First, two portraits. Are they self-portraits? Based on real people? Or just from the artist's imagination? I don't know, and because this isn't a formal gallery, we can only speculate. Viewing such works this way, in which the interpretation is truly the viewer's own, is marvelous.

I love the way the artist used the fading colors of the background wall to add a splotchy, subtly colorful complexion to the following face.

Finally, here's a painting which could easily be a study sketch from an art student's sketchbook, if it weren't as big as a person and spray-painted onto a wall. It's quite obviously based on this world-famous photograph from the Great Depression:

Here's the Lisboeta version:

Derivative? Maybe, but I like to think it revives the relevancy of the image during a time when Portugal is suffering through its own economic crisis. It also shows that street artists are not all feckless youths with a desire to degrade, but that some (even the unpaid, unfamous ones) do actually care about "art", in the sense of its history and applications and cultural relevance.

March 22nd - scenes from the general strike/22 março - cenas da greve geral

On March 22nd, there was a general strike in Lisbon. It was intended to protest economic austerity, unemployment, and job cuts. For Americans and others who have grown unfamiliar with mass labor action, a general strike differs from a normal strike because it involves every union (and theoretically, every worker) in a general protest, rather than a single-industry union protesting a specific employer.

There were lots of different posters and banners around town in the days leading up to the strike (I think every stakeholder was promoting it their own way), but this was my personal favorite, so I photographed it.

The poster translates to: "General Strike. Occupy the streets. Block everything."
Obviously, this is blunt and meant to get noticed and antagonize, but isn't that what a strike advertisement should do?

Anyway, Liz and I met the demonstration at the foot of Praça Camões, as it was marching from the Rossio towards the Palácio de São Bento. After it passed that spot, we ducked back home for a brief rest, then went to Palácio de São Bento to capture the scene there. What follows are pictures of the marchers and the demonstration.

Here's the front of the march as it heads down Rua Nova da Trindade towards the Praça. From left to right, the signs read:
* "No to forced work"
* "Precariousness has no future"
* "Austerity is poverty. Work is (jobs are) progress"
* "Larger salaries. Better hours."
* Also, "A Luta Continua" means "The fight/struggle continues"
The CGTP, which you may see the logo of here and throughout, is basically the AFL-CIO of Portugal; i.e. the largest trade union confederation.

Here are more strikers linking their hands to create a clear path for their brethren.

Rounding the corner to head down Largo do Chiado.

Here's media photographers using the church steps to get a better view of the passing strikers.

Here's the march winding past the Praça Camões and heading down the Rua da Loreto towards the Palácio de São Bento. They're heading straight for our apartment!

Now, here's some photos of some of the other groups which fielded their own signs and identities as the march continued (I know this might seem small for a general strike, but they were going down a narrow street, so they got stretched out and thinned in the middle, but it was really long).

These are some group of Metro maintenance workers (not sure for which unit). The red sign notes they are "Against the merger of Carris and Metro". I didn't know such a merger was a possibility. The yellow sign behind says, essentially, "Against the robbery of jobs and salary".

Here's the teachers union:

This sign says "Fight for freedom and democracy. In April fulfill the constitution." I'll be honest, I'm not sure what is happening in April that they're referring to, but I'm going to try and find out.

Sign of good organization: they had individuals (men and women equally) spaced out to just the right places with megaphones to allow for maximum chanting coverage. Notice the cheat sheet in her left hand ;-).

This was a branch of CGTP from Amadora, a suburban district north of Lisbon. Their sign says (this is a very rough translation) "No more paying for crises created by misgovernment. No more sacrificing on their behalf."

Ah yes, CTT Correios. These would be the postal workers. No mail delivered yesterday!

These are "workers in commerce and services". The first line of their sign reads "Say no to layoffs without just cause", but the second I can't really translate, because it is referring to some kind of obscure labor law change regarding how hours are counted (it's not referring to bank hours). Well, I guess I kind of just translated it, I just can't explain it...

Here's the nurses' (enfermeiros) union. Their sign reads "only the fight/struggle can give back what was stolen from us".

This one's for Mrs. Nojo. Their sign isn't very big or legible, but it's the psychologists (psícologos)! The part that's legible reads "the time is now to invest in health and education". How very psychologisty of them.

No affiliation given here, but the sign was colorful. It reads "Enough!! Stop social terrorism. European general strike."

It became more disorganized as it got towards the back, understandably. Here was the Almada Municipal Theater, saying "we want all the bread!" Ok...

We start to see hand-painted, home-made signs. Basically, I think these are sympathetic groups/individuals who aren't officially with unions who are marching of their own accord, which they seemed welcome to do.

More marchers. The first sign says "general disagreement". The middle sign references the so-called "troika" of Germany, France, and the IMF which provided the bail-out money to and/or now monitor the finances of countries like Greece, Portugal, and Ireland. Finally, "No more Merkozy" is an anti-Merkel and anti-Sarkozy sign, using the nickname that hasbeen created to refer to them in tandem (like "Brangelina").

I wasn't able to get a good picture of their sign, but these were self-described feminists.

Austerity? Not an inevitable policy!

Here they are winding their way through Rua dos Poiais de São Bento, very near the Palácio de São Bento. Very narrow street to accomodate such a large crowd, but it's Lisbon...

The police stand guard at the entrance to the Palácio de São Bento. Not really that overwhelming a presence, comparatively, but noticeable.

The Portuguese flag amidst the crowd...

I have seen various small demonstrations fill up the little plaza in front of the Palácio de São Bento, but this was definitely huge. It spilled out into the streets feeding into the plaza.

Finally, here's a different perspective on the crowd.

Freguesia de São Jose

Freguesia is the equivalent of "parish", also used to signify a local council, or ward (this is gleaned not from formal education but from observation - so there is a margin of error here). The Freguesia de São Jose is located north of the Baixa and east of the Avenida de Liberdade. They have these great old buildings as well as a public viewpoint underneath them, which faces west. Here's a few quick pictures.

Mrs. Nojo and I have our eye on this guy for our next Lisbon accomodations.

There's a little terrace cafe where you can enjoy a snack and various beverages.

In the distance you can barely make out the tallest landmarks of the Baixa - the Elevador Santa Justa and the top of the entrance arch of the Praça do Comercio.

Finally, near this area is one of the odder monuments you will see in Lisboa. At the southern end of the Campo dos Martires da Patria is this statue dedicated to a certain Dr. Sousa Martins. From what I've been able to find out (which is scant) he became famous around the turn of the century for being able to cure people who had supposedly uncurable conditions. Basically, it sounds like he was ascribed certain quasi-spiritual powers that went beyond mere medicine. Now, I don't know much more than that about him, and he had a short period of activity before dying himself. However, there were enough admirers of his that they pooled their money to erect this monument.

You may notice what appears to be a a mess of stones surrounding the base of this monument. Those are in fact, tributes to the Doctor from the relatives of those he's helped. Many of them are quite modern. It seems that, even now, there are those who believe that Dr. Sousa Martins is still helping cure people posthumously. I guess they communicate with him through prayer? There is also a box, visible to the left in above picture, where you can leave lit candles. So I don't really know how it's supposed to work, but needless to say, the pile of testemonials left at the base speak powerfully about the effect that belief in this man's power still has.

Finally, one of my favorite things about this monument is its location - it's directly across the street from the main entrance to the Lisbon Medical School. I wonder how the eminent professors of medical science feel about the daily reminder of this tradition, which essentially amounts to faith healing?

Cascais

Cascais is a town located to the west of Lisbon, along the coast. It's about a 45 minute commuter train ride away, and by the time you get out there you're no longer seeing the Tagus river - it's all Atlantic Ocean. Cascais and Estoril (next door just to the east of Cascais) are known as beach towns, but also for hosting the homes of Lisbon's wealthiest citizens (and the resorts of Portugal's wealthiest tourists). The center of town itself doesn't really give you that feeling, but it's in the details. The restaurants are all pricy, the cars are all very expensive, most people walking around are dressed nattily, etc. Amidst all this, Cascais still hosts a small fishing fleet, who's harbor is around the corner from a large, fancy marina.

Here's one of the trains one takes to get to Cascais. They leave from Cais do Sodre station, which is a short walk from our apartment.

The actual beaches within Cascais are pretty small. The really nice beaches are outside of town, and you pretty much need a car or bicycle to get to them. This shows Praia Pescadores, the busiest beach within Cascais, as it is the most centrally located.

This beach is known as "Praia Pescadores" (which translates to Fishermen's Beach) because it hosts the small-time fishing industry. Following along to the left, past the palm trees there is a former fort which has been turned into a luxury hotel & conference center, and past that is the marina (you can barely see the masts of the sail boats).

Here's a view back into town from the vantage point of those homes we were looking at in the previous two pictures. This statue is Cascais' version of the Monument to the Discoveries, which commemorates Portugal's early sea-faring heritage.

Here's a more unimpeded view.

Along the street up the hill were several nice, big houses looking out at the beach. I though this one was very unique and beautiful, so I took its picture.

As you go past the previously pictured fort and marina, you follow along the water westward towards the coast where it turns north-south. Near that corner is the "Boca do Inferno", which translates to Mouth of Hell. It's an area where the shore is made of jagged and uneven rocks. Because of this and the strength of the tides, it's known for having spectacular waves that crash into the rocks and create huge sprays and echoing booms. Along the way you pass an estate that belonged to the Condes Castro Guimarães, a line of Counts (Condes). The land and mansion have since been returned to the state (I don't know if the transer was voluntary or coerced) and made into a museum and public park.

Here's a funky little restaurant hanging on the rocks, followed by the Santa Marta lighthouse, which doesn't really function anymore and is now surrounded by, what else, a luxury hotel.

Here are a variety of pictures of the Boca do Inferno area. There were some brave souls out along the edge fishing. I wasn't able to capture the biggest and flashiest sprays. It was unpredictable and hard to guess when they would appear, so I took what I could and then just enjoyed being there.

Turning our attention back towards the Condes Castro Guimarães, here is their mansion as viewed from the road.

Here's the main entrance:

A fountain tiled with azulejos, just to the right of the main entry we just saw.

A close-up of the tower.

They had some neat things on display inside, but we didn't have time to see everything since we arrived only ten minutes before it closed.

This was the interior courtyard.

I guess the four-leaf clover featured prominently in the crest of the Condes Castro Guimarães. It was a design motif in several places, most prominently in the ceiling of this room.

This ceiling, in another room, was really impressive. Those are several different crests set into the ceiling. Because of the time crunch, we didn't have time to find out more about them (I would guess they're either crests of Portuguese royal families, or of various royal familes that had ties to the Condes Castro Guimarães).

Check out this organ! It would be cool to hear it played. I bet it got loud in that room.

Finally, here is a cabinet with some beautiful inlayed woodwork. That central image was really finely detailed.

Cascais: a beautiful and relaxing side trip.