Why are the women crying?” Josh whispered to his hostel-mate, Sam. He could barely see in the dimly lit restaurant, but it seemed that every local Portuguese patron had eyes filled with tears. Some of the women couldn’t control their emotions and were loudly weeping through the beautiful song being performed on the makeshift stage.
“I’m not sure exactly what they’re crying over,” Sam replied, “but I know this is Fado music. The songs are about tragedies and heartbreak. They’re meant to evoke emotion.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“I’m pretty sure you only hear about it if you come here. Lisbon is known for it. C’mon, mate. Let’s get out of here and hit up one of the clubs. I want to get sloshed tonight.”
“Wait–let’s go at the end of this song,” Josh said. He smiled encouragingly at the performer, before realizing the inappropriate reaction to the songs content could come across as offensive. He quickly feigned a somber persona and kept it up until the mesmerizing music came to a halt.
Right before they got up, a waitress came by asking for drink orders. Sam was about to dismiss her but Josh thought that one last drink before going to a club sounded like a good idea.
“What do you recommend for a shot?” Josh asked her.
The young waitress was happy to offer drink suggestions to the attractive, twenty-something foreigners.
“Why don’t the two of you come over to the bar. I’ll take care of you over there,” she said.
They followed her just a few feet to the small wooden structure that separated the alcohol from the customers. “This one is what all my brothers drink when they come in,” she said, reaching up on her tiptoes to grab a large, dark green bottle. “It gets you drunk without giving you the hangover. If you don’t like it, it’s on the house.” She poured the dark brown liquid into two shot glasses and placed them in front of the young men.
“Before I drink this I have to know, did the song at least end happy?” Josh asked about the ballad that had just completed.
“Unfortunately, no,” she replied, grabbing a third shot glass and filling it up in front of herself. She lifted up the drink as she explained, “the song ended with the the singer losing his true love and never finding a way to get her back.”
“Well then, to avoiding that same fate,” Josh said, lifting up his glass and touching it to hers. The girl smiled and batted her eyelashes.
“Cheers to that!” Sam tossed the shot back without hesitation and Josh and the waitress quickly followed suit.
“How are you feeling?” Josh whispered, trying not to wake anyone else in the room as he balanced on the bunkbed’s ladder to check on Sam.
“Terrible! That waitress lied about the hangover-free shot.”
“I feel fine. Your hangover might have something to do with the 10 other types of liquor you had on top of it,” Josh said, handing Sam a glass of water from the communal kitchen. “Do you still want to do that city walking tour? It starts in an hour.”
“City tour?”
“Yeah, the one Juliana told us about. We were both pretty hyped about it last night.”
“Juliana?” Sam asked, as if he had never heard the name before.
“The waitress. Don’t you remember anything from last night?”
“Oh right, it’s sort of coming back. She came out with us?”
“She only came to one of the bars, but then left when she saw the babysitting job I had on my hands,” Josh said lightheartedly.
“Oh come on! If we hadn’t gone out we wouldn’t even know about this city tour. I’m telling you mate, drinking is the path to knowledge." “Didn’t Aristotle say that?” Josh replied sarcastically.
“A lot of people think so, but that one is a Sam Pearson original.”
Josh laughed quietly, “At least you’re entertaining. So, is that a yes on the walking tour?”
“Yeah, but I better get some food in me first. I know of a great place that we can get some breakfast.”
“Alright, let’s go.” Josh grabbed a fresh shirt from his backpack and they both left the room.
“This way,” Sam pointed as they crossed the street.
“We’re taking a trolly?” Josh asked, looking ahead at the charming yellow tram.
“Yeah, hurry! There’s one leaving now!” he replied, beginning to run across the road to the Cais do Sodré stop. Josh jogged behind him and the two young men jumped on, with only seconds to spare before the doors closed.
The small vehicle was packed to capacity with only standing room available. Sam seemed to be engulfed by the pit of bodies the moment he stepped onboard, but Josh chose to stay closer to the entrance to keep his claustrophobia at bay. Stop after stop, Josh waited for a signal from Sam to exit, but each time he was met with disappointment. The tram never seemed to get less crowded and it appeared that all of the passengers were headed to the same destination. Finally, the doors opened and almost everyone on board tried to exit at once. As Josh stepped onto the cement, he took a deep breath of fresh air and looked up at an extremely ornate stone church with an almost limitless perimeter.
“Woah! That’s beautiful!” he exclaimed.
“Yeah, that’s the Jerónimos Monastery.”
“It’s amazing!”
“It is," Sam replied, "but that’s not where we’re going. C’mon this way.”
As they walked a few yards, Josh started noticing people lined up along the sidewalk, every few seconds inching further and further ahead. Sam led him right to back of that line.
“What is this?”
“Pastéis de Belém. This is where we’re getting breakfast.”
“There must be 100 people in this line!” Josh said irritably.
“At least. That’s how you know it’s good!” Sam responded.
“We’re never going to make it back in time for that city tour.”
“There’s another one at three o’clock.”
“How do you know that? This morning you didn’t even remember that a city tour existed.”
“I saw a flyer for it in the hostel lobby on our way out. You worry too much, mate. Just enjoy what Lisbon has to offer–and right now it’s offering us some custard tarts sprinkled with cinnamon!”
The line moved quickly and soon they were at the head of the line.
“I’ll take 10 of the Pastel de Belem and an espresso, please.” Sam ordered and then paid the cashier.
Josh ordered next, opting for something more filling. “Can I get one of the meat filled pastries and a black coffee?”
“You have to get a few of the tarts too. They’re known for them. That’s what people line up around the block for.”
“Okay, two of those as well,” Josh said to the cashier.
The men got their breakfast to-go and walked outside. Sam led the way again and after a decent walk they approached the Tagus river. Josh gazed up to his right toward a stunning white tower which appeared to be sitting on top of the water.
“What’s that?”
“That’s the Belém tower,” Sam said, pointing to the impressive structure. “It’s considered the gateway to Lisbon because it was built as a fortress to guard the city,” he remarked.
“There’s so much history here. You’d never see something like that in the U.S.”
“Yeah, that’s one of my favorite things about Europe. There are so many great cities, each with their own set of details that make up the past.”
They sat down and Josh took a big gulp of coffee. “Are you seriously only going to have pastries for breakfast?” he inquired, as he watched Sam shove the first two into his mouth. “Don’t you need something more hearty after a night of drinking?”
“Not at all. I grew up in France, so having something sweet and flakey for breakfast is practically a requirement.”
“France?" Josh questioned. "I thought from your accent that you’d be British.”
“My parents are from London originally but I spent the largest part of my childhood in France.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“Most people don’t," Sam replied. "Anyway, I’m sorry about last night. Getting hammered probably isn’t the best way to make a good impression. That was your first night in Portugal, right?”
“It was my first night in Europe. Don’t worry about it, though. Before you arrived, I asked some of the other guys at the hostel if they wanted to go out–they just smiled and started speaking in another language. I appreciate you inviting me to the bars, it was actually really fun.”
“Anytime. So, this is your first full day then? Why are you in such a hurry to do the city tour?”
“I… I don’t know. I guess I’m not. I just felt like I should get it under my belt.”
“How American of you.”
Josh laughed. “The truth is, I don’t even know where I’m going next. I still have to figure that out.”
“Really? For someone in such a hurry I thought you’d have your entire holiday planned out down to the minute.”
“This isn’t really a vacation for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I graduated from college a few months ago and got a job at one of Chicago’s top accounting firms. My first day was last week, September 1st. I had every intention of starting my career there, but when I walked into the office on my first day in that suit and tie, it just didn’t feel like me. I left for lunch and never went back. My dad is probably furious with me right now–one of his clients pulled some strings for me to get the job there. Ever since I’ve been 13 all I’ve heard about was how I needed to have a good GPA, two internships, and job experience at a Fortune 500 company. My dad had it all planned out so that I could be the one to eventually take over his financial firm. Don’t get me wrong, it was great plan–but it was his plan, not mine.”
“Sounds like a lot of pressure.”
“It was. I’ve spent so much of my life following the path I was supposed to be on, I guess it finally came to a head. I sat in on a meeting that first morning and something just hit me. All the seasoned employees around me were discussing how to protect assets during an acquisition for one account and how to optimize the depreciation for another, when I thought to myself, I really don’t care about this at all. That's when I realized I needed to find out what I do care about. I needed my own plan. That night I looked up the cheapest flight into Europe and here I am, on some sort of impromptu journey of self-discovery.”
“You know, that tower over there stands as a symbol of journeys beginning or ending in Lisbon. I guess yours starts here.”
“How fitting. I must have chosen the right place.” Josh took a bite of one of the tarts. “Oh my god, these are delicious.”
“I wouldn’t say I told you so, except that I kinda did.”
“How do you know about all this stuff? The Fado music, the Belém tower, the pastries?” Josh asked.
“I moved around a lot with my parents. You just end up hearing a lot of stories and picking up tips along the way.”
“What did your parents do?”
“What didn’t they do? They were basically compulsive travelers, starting up a new business in one country, then getting some brilliant idea that they just had to move to the next place for,” Sam explained.
“So, is your plan to anchor in Lisbon then?”
“No. Lisbon is just one place I never saw with my parents. Now that I’m old enough to travel on my own, I decided to see what it’s like here. I imagine I’ll always be moving around though, maybe it’s genetic. In an odd way, a new city has always felt like home to me.”
“Sounds like quite the life.”
“So far, so good. Now let’s get going. We’ve got to get you back for that city tour,” Sam joked.
They finished their breakfast and walked to a less-quaint tram resembling a bus.
“We’re not taking the trolly this time?”
“Nope, but this one takes us straight to where the city tour starts.
When they arrived at Praça do Comércio, a large group of about 20 people were gathered together.
“That must be it,” Josh said, pointing to the crowd.
They joined the group and listened as the guide rattled off a list of things they’d see over the next two hours; the historic Rua Agusta arch, Lisbon's oldest café, and the gorgeous views from Elevador de Santa Justa caught Josh’s ear. They went to each attraction eagerly learning and absorbing the abundant knowledge that the guide had to offer. The last stop was a street where they found a tremendous view of the city as well as unique buildings garnished with blue, yellow, and white tiles.
“The azulejo tiles are part of Portugal’s distinct history. They express our artistic culture, architectural advances, and appreciation for beauty,” the guide explained.
The group listened and looked, admiring the decorative buildings and the work that went into each one. Josh was particularly impressed and stayed behind as the guide and the rest of the tour group trickled away back to the city’s main square. He stared at the hand-made tiles, looking closely for each subtle difference. Sam waited patiently as Josh walked up to the wall and touched a few of the more intricate pieces. Just as he ran his fingers over the smooth, ceramic surface, one of the tiles came loose and fell to the ground.
“Did it break?” Sam asked, stepping closer.
“No, thank god,” Josh replied, inspecting the front of the colorful tile. Before attempting to put it back in it’s place on the wall, he flipped it over to check on the back. “Hey look at this!” he said, showing the back of the tile to Sam.
“What is it?”
“It’s writing. A few words and then what looks like an address.”
“Let’s find out what it says. Maybe we can ask that waitress from last night.” Sam suggested.
“Great idea, we’ll ask Juliana!” Josh put the tile in his back pocket and they walked about mile to the restaurant. Upon peeking in, they saw an almost empty room and Juliana behind the bar.
“Well if it isn’t my two favorite customers!” she said as they entered.
“We actually have a favor to ask,” Josh said confidently.
“Sure, what is it?”
He pulled the tile from his pocket and showed her the writing.
“How exactly am I supposed to help with this?” she asked.
“Can you translate it for us? Or tell us where that address is?”
“I’d love to, but that writing isn’t in Portuguese.”
“It’s not?”
“No. It looks like Italian to me,” she said.
Sam pulled out his phone and opened up the maps app. He quickly entered the address and showed the results to his companions.
Josh looked up and smiled.
“I think we just figured out where I'm going next!”
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