Walk Long Enough and Far Enough and You'll Find What You're Looking For

My theory when traveling has always been walk long enough and far enough and you'll eventually stumble on all that you need to see. Or at least have time to.

This morning I set out on foot in search of Marquis of Pombal Square, named after the man credited with rebuilding Lisbon after the devastating earthquake of 1755 that claimed the lives of some 30,000 people. He also managed to find time to expel the Jesuits, which goes to show you nobody is perfect. 

Would you believe I failed to stumble upon my destination without a map or real sense of where I was going? Instead, I waved the white flag and hailed a cab. I was whisked through narrow streets lined with people heading to work before discovering I wasn't particularly close but had at least been on the right path. This by the way offered some solace. The older I get the less I have qualms, if any, about accepting "small victories."

Marquis of Pombal Square sits atop Liberdade Avenue, which is essentially the 5th Avenue of Lisbon. Anyone looking to go "Gangnam Style"in the Portuguese capital will not be disappointed. The street is teeming with name brands like Aramani and Hermes. Even the young professionals I saw heading off to lunch looked as though they'd just stepped out of a fall catalog.

Eventually I boarded a brand new Hop On Hop Off red tour bus, a mode of transportation I'm now as well versed in navigating as my Honda Accord. Similar to my staple blue blazer and scarf the bus has started to somehow define my travels, if not, my very being.

In the 80-minute ride I learned loads about the city on 7 hills. Like most parts of Europe it was at one point a revolving door to visitors who not so politely insisted on hanging their hat in this coastal city. For anyone who has had the great fortune of visiting Lisbon it's easy to see why. 

The Phoenicians, the Moors, and of course, the Romans all bought their "I love Portugal" t-shirts before deciding the place was theirs. Then in 1494, the Spanish and Portuguese empires decided to amicably divide the world between them through the Treaty of Tordesillas. How thoughtful. 

If ever there were greater evidence that men were in charge of something I've yet to find it.

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It's My Problem, Not His

Last night I hopped on a plane for Lisbon, Portugal. I sat in the very last row as I watched passengers slowly file on to this packed flight. I heard Portuguese being spoken by the family sitting in front of me, reminding me of how much I loved the cadence and harmony of the language.

The gentlemen sitting beside me was an elderly man from the south. He was kind, sometimes abrupt, but mostly aloof during the 7-hour flight. I half-wondered if he knew where he was going and what he planned to do once we landed. "Is the voltage in Portugal 220?" I looked at him quizzically before telling him I had no idea and that it was perhaps the most interesting question I'd ever been asked.

He also asked a few times what language was being spoken over the PA system. "Portuguese," the woman beside him replied. I started to build this entire narrative of a person I didn't even know based on a few completely innocuous questions. Most weren't even directed to me. Yet, I foolishly pieced together a biography for this man. 

When I got off the plane and had a few minutes to collect myself I realized it was my problem, not his. His take on the world threatened my own and rather than be curious about our differences I silently tried to leverage mine by using judgment. It's not at all what community, understanding, compassion, or even travel are about -- not in the least. 

Next time, I'll make sure I do better.