Despite those telling me that travelling alone would afford many opportunities to do so, I wasn't so sure. I knew it would certainly be a new experience. I had planned a few particular activities and tours but knew there had to be a good deal of flexibility; I welcomed that change compared to my usual trend of micromanaging my vacations. I was going for the laid back approach to focus on enjoying myself rather than worrying if I was having enough fun or doing enough day by day.
To my surprise, I made my first friend on the plane. I found my aisle seat - the airline check-in lady had told me she got me the "last good seat" after gently scolding me for not checking in online. As I shrugged off my coat and wrestled my bag under the seat in front of me, I recognized the girl in the middle as the same one who was behind me in the security line. I smiled at her and her neighbour. As the people around us settled in, I turned and asked them if it was their first time in Portugal. I knew it was a bit of a cliché question but I figured it would be a good conversation starter.
For the gentleman, he was merely passing through Lisbon en route to another destination. His wife and two children were sitting several rows away. He asked me to switch ends with him and I gladly complied so he could see his kids easier. It was the first time to Portugal for myself and J. I was slightly envious to hear that she was headed there for a month. A recent university graduate, she hadn't gotten into the graduate program she had her heart set on and was spending the year doing temp work and travelling. She told me about her worries that she may not get admitted in the upcoming year either. "I don't really have a backup plan." While she made me wish I was able to travel for such long periods of time, I reflected that I was fortunate enough to get into my professional schooling and set myself on my desired career path relatively on schedule. I remembered the worry and stress as a student about not knowing if and how things would work out for me. There's so much blessing in that security and hopefully in future I'll be able to make my travel dreams into reality. She certainly appeared to be more than willing to give up her current lifestyle for the one she wanted.
The man next to her brought his toddler back to sit with him. He laughed at my estimation of her age as eighteen to twenty months old. "She's exactly nineteen months old. How did you know?" She was a beautiful little girl and she regarded us intensely. She looked like a doll with her shiny hair and large eyes rimmed with long, dark lashes. She was quiet and well-behaved, especially compared to the child seated behind us who alternated wailing and kicking the seatback. She was the type of toddler who was well aware of her cuteness and her dad confirmed her ability to manipulate it to her own ends. I coaxed a smile out of her before she fell asleep with her face buried in her father's chest.
Our conversation petered out as it was an overnight flight; after getting as much sleep as possible, J and I were groggy as we discussed our plans for the day. I wasn't thinking much further than navigating to my hostel.
I expected the hostel to be staffed by Portuguese personnel but I was greeted by decidedly non-Portuguese accents. The hostel staff were cheerful, helpful and kind. D, an Australian with multiple earrings, showed me around the hostel and chatted with me about how he'd been in Lisbon for a month or so. He was enjoying the city other than a bad experience buying hash - he had been hustled twice in a ten minute time period and ended up with fake hashish (that was actually plasticine) and a lighter wallet. M, a Californian who was two months into her three month Lisbon stint, had fallen in love with the city on a prior brief trip and decided to come back. We later bonded over an affinity for the tangled maze of streets of Alfama and agreed that neighbourhood was our favorite. E hailed from the UK and had just a few days left in Portugal. I didn't know how to ask them how their lives allowed them to move spontaneously to other countries for things like this. Like J, I did envy them a bit with their lackadaisical lifestyle.
R was the first hostel resident I met. A lovely Brazilian Portuguese guy, he'd just finished a two week vacation with his girlfriend who lived back in Brazil. He was doing a master's degree in Spain (or as he charmingly put it, "making a master") before planning to return to his home country. I listened to him as he described their school system; it seemed quite different than ours. I was acutely aware of my North American bubble. There's definitely many different ways to skin an educational cat.
A woman I met later in the Lisbon hostel seemed like a character out of a movie. Unlike the majority of hostel hoppers, she had a large suitcase and a backpack. But based on her packing cubes, she was no novice at this and she confirmed my assumption when she told me she'd been travelling for the past two years. Originally from California, she was hesitant to return home now because she felt like a failure and that she didn't accomplish the goal of her trip which was to "find herself". She applied her makeup while telling me about her divorce which precipitated her decision to start travelling two years ago. She'd surfed and explored her way through several tropical countries. Her most recent crisis brought her to Portugal: despite me not ever knowing her name, she told me about Adrian. Straight out of a tumultuous romance novel, they'd met surfing in the Philippines and "fell in love" but had to part ways. Their connection apparently transcended distance and they stayed in touch and embarked on another adventure together, this time to Vietnam. In between swipes of mascara, she explained how he then invited her to come live with him in France. Unfortunately, I guess it was easier to maintain their relationship on the move in tropical destinations than when facing the ennui of day to day living. "When I was growing up, my aunts always told me to find someone who loved me more than I loved them. I thought he loved me more, but I was wrong. It went from him chasing me to me being the one more invested and heartbroken." She apparently was unable to stop picking fights with him and the friction in their relationship built up until he told her to leave his house. She'd spent two months of her usual travel budget on the flight to Portugal and was disappointed that the climate wasn't nearly as temperate as she expected. She lamented her lack of a jacket which hadn't been necessary when she was travelling through her usual warm climates. "Is this too much? I want it to add something interesting to the outfit, but not go overboard, you know?" She had tied a red paisley scarf around her neck and surveyed her reflection. Not knowing how she'd react, I bit back my quip about a "je ne said quoi" and instead offered that the black option may suit her better. She carefully outlined her lips in a berry hue and I agreed with her when she declared, "Perfect - I always feel so much more put together with lipstick on." She told me that Adrian was still texting her and telling her he missed her. I didn't have any solid advice to offer her as that's certainly not my forte. I wonder what happened with the two of them.
To try to beat jet lag, I resisted the urge to nap on my arrival and wandered around the rainy city. Given the weather, the walking tour group was much smaller than usual. It was headed by N, a Lisbon native with a waterproof cape and a mop of dark, curly hair. He introduced himself by assuring us none of us would be able to pronounce his Portuguese name properly and was subsequently unimpressed by our attempts. He'd studied fine art for ten years; amongst ourselves we wondered if he thought he'd end up doing this considering his schooling. He was difficult to read - his reactions to the comments of the group ranged from seemingly irritated to jokey to indifferent. Despite his mercurial nature, he was very knowledgeable and clearly loved his city and we willingly trailed after him in the wet weather. My hostel was on his way home and he walked part of the way with me after the tour was over. I commented on how I realized there wasn't a distinct "Portuguese" look and it was difficult to tell tourists from Lisbon residents. With their chameleon like quality, I'd believe them if they told me they were Arab or Mediterranean or from elsewhere in Europe. He expounded on their multiethnic origins as I tried not to slip on the treacherous limestone sidewalks. I may not have been able to say his name accurately but I certainly learned a lot from that hipster.
I befriended a pair of Canadian girls from Toronto on the walking tour. They were witty and very nice; the three of us were responsible for the majority of the sassy comments that frustrated our guide. We exchanged contact information and set out on a day trip together the next day. I was glad for their company - Sintra is beautiful in and of itself but it was even more enjoyable in the company of such lovely people. We likely would have never crossed paths in Canada and I am happy we did as despite just meeting, I felt very comfortable with them right away and I think they felt the same. Both fitness buffs (pun intended), I listened with rapt attention about the rigorous training involved in preparation for bodybuilding competitions. As someone who can barely make it to the gym on a semi-regular basis, I admired their commitment and dedication. When we returned to Lisbon and continued our joint exploration, our conversation gradually got deeper and touched on more intimate topics. From relationships to dysfunctional family members to bereavement, it illustrated that we all basically go through different shades of the same experiences. In retrospect I laugh at us crying over pastries, but I'm glad we were able to open up to each other. Our paths diverged as they left Lisbon to embark on a road trip around Portugal but I thoroughly enjoyed their company. I was touched that we kept in contact after separating; it was kind of them to message me regularly to make sure I was OK and update me on their trip. We were on the flight home together and coordinated our seats to be able to sit together - it felt like a reunion of friends I'd known for much longer than ten days. I am optimistic that we'll stay friends in future and I'm certainly glad I went on that walking tour.
It's interesting how distance magnifies otherwise tenuous connections. In Canada, a friend of a friend is just that, but when you transpose that relationship to another country, two degrees of separation begets a makeshift tour guide. F went to high school with a friend of mine and recently moved to Portugal to start a master's in social work. Despite a busy schedule, he was kind enough to set aside some time to show me a bit of the city and wander through the oceanarium. He was extremely sarcastic with a sharp sense of humor, which kept things interesting, and I peppered him with questions about his experience there. A true introvert, I admired his absolute comfort (if not preference) for being alone - it was a leap for me to take a solo vacation, never mind to abruptly move to another country. Granted, his prior job as an insurance underwriter didn't sound particularly stimulating, but Portugal is not a common choice for international education. I asked him about his choice to pursue social work as there was an incongruence between his apparent misanthropy and that particular field. "As a whole, people are pretty terrible...but on a case by case basis, they're not so bad. And with the people you see in social work, it's usually not who they are but their circumstances that have led them to where they are." He was right. I was grateful for his time and his food for thought.
As I hauled my bag onto the metro to the Lisbon airport, I remarked to myself that my solo trip hadn't been all that solo while in Lisbon.
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