©Site content is copyright P. Breathnach unless otherwise made clear

Many of the flights from Dublin to interesting destinations go out very early in the morning, so we set the alarm for 3.00 a.m. to be at the airport for 5.00 a.m. for a flight at 7.10 a.m. At Lisbon Airport, we found Bus 91, the Aerobus, and purchased our 3 euro tickets (more about them below). On the way in, we passed an eye-catching edifice which Herself and I agreed might have been the architectural inspiration for a new shopping centre near where we live. Our later discovery that it was the bull-ring supported that fanciful idea.

We got off the bus at Praca Marques de Pombal, at the top of Avenida da Liberdade, Lisbon's very impressive principal avenue. It being a Sunday morning, things were quiet enough. The immediate objective was to locate our hotel, the Ibis Liberdade. A suggestion for those who decide to visit Lisbon: don't bother with wheeled luggage -- the pavements are made of small stone setts that are unkind to wheels. We found the hotel near the top a steep hill, a harbinger of what we were to find during our stay: everything seems to be up a steep hill. Our early start had got us to the hotel before our room was ready, so we dumped our bags and decided to check out the neighbourhood. The map showed us that the Botanic Gardens were close by, and we thought they might be worth seeing. We didn't see them: they are not open on Sundays. This seems surprising for a country with a Catholic tradition, as I have long harboured the impression that the closing of recreation areas on the Lord's Day is more typical of certain strands of Protestant sentiment. We found our way to a pleasant urban park, the Praca Principe Real, where one of the recreations practised was the playing of cards in the open on a bright but cold February day. Up and down a few more slopes, getting our bearings, and back to the hotel to claim our room, which was now available. While Ibis hotels are not strong on local character, they are reliable on standards and fairly uniform. We were given the room we last occupied in Amboise, or maybe Falaise. Unpacking was done, and we took a nap to compensate for our very early morning start.

Back to the Aerobus tickets: they are valid for use on all buses and trams on the day of issue, so we set out to exploit them. Perhaps the most noted public transport option in Lisbon is tram 28, an old line serviced by trams that elsewhere might be consigned to transport museums, and following a reportedly interesting cross-town route. Our guidebook (The Rough Guide -- not recommended) helpfully told us we could get it at Graca, and our map told us that Graca is close to Castelo de Sao Jorge, Lisbon's citadel. Off we set to find it, down Avenida da Liberdade, breaking our journey to go up and down the Elevador da Gloria just for the hell of it and because it was covered by our tickets, stopping to admire the handsome Estacao do Rossio and noting that it was closed for maintenance, and going into the open and airy Praca Pedro V, the city's main square, more often referred to as Rossio. We could find the Castelo easily enough, as it sits on top of a high hill and dominates the skyline. But the hill looked very high, so we cast around to see if we could figure a public transport option to get us up. We strayed into another fine square, Praca da Figueira, and thence into Largo Martim Moniz. And there it was: tram 28 at its terminus. It could take us up to Graca where we were going to find, well, tram 28.

We set off, about a dozen passengers on a tram that is notorious for being very crowded. Maybe things are quieter on Sundays. But at each stop people got on, and it seemed that nobody got off. A group of 10 Spanish twenty-somethings boarded, and were dispersed through the car. They conversed as if nobody else was there, firing comments and jokes the length and breadth of the tram. By the time we got to the Castelo the car was full, and there were about 20 people waiting to board. I felt some sympathy for them, as only two people got off. My pity was misplaced: they all boarded, and we played sardines. On we rattled, our tourism now confined to what little we could see out one side window (tiles, mostly, and a glimpse of the cathedral). A seat was vacated, and one of the Spaniards made for it; from nowhere a little old lady, probably in her seventies, appeared and with timing that betokened a lifetime's experience, left the Spanish girl standing.

In the latter part of the journey we shed more people than we picked up and by the time we reached the terminus the number of passengers was about equal to the number of seats. Where we were seemed less interesting than where we had been, so we -- and all the other passengers -- opted to stay on for the return trip. The driver thought differently: "Finished" he announced, and motioned us off. Then he drove forward about three metres and, with a big grin, waved us back on again. On the way back we saw slightly more, getting better views of interesting buildings, many of which are faced with patterned tiles. The tram was subjected to a practice which Dubliners know as 'scutting' -- boys hanging on to the moving vehicle to hitch a dangerous ride. From the terminus at Largo Martim Moniz we walked back to our hotel (we hadn't figured out the bus routes -- we never did).

After a brief rest we set out to forage for dinner. One consideration was to find something near the hotel so as to conserve our feet for all the walking we expected to do in the next few days. We found a place not far away which looked to us like a neighbourhood restaurant, the sort that locals might use. It was not very crowded, which can be a negative indicator, but we suspected that things might be quiet on a Sunday evening in February, and decided to try it.  It proved to be satisfactory without being special, and inexpensive. No complaints but, despite its proximity to the hotel, we were not inspired to adopt it, the sort of thing we sometimes do when we find a good restaurant close to our accommodation.

A short stroll back to the hotel (mostly downhill, mercifully) and the end of a long day.