Fly in from London at a. Once in your seat, learn your flight has been delayed an hour. Land in Lisbon much later than you would have liked. Find the taxi line, to learn they nearly all take cash. Try to take out cash from three ATM machines in the airport lobby. Ask the lady at the newsstand in French — the only language you both understand — where you can find a working ATM. Go up three floors and emerge in a room containing nothing but an ATM.
Check your six. Rush back downstairs, fists full of euros. Take the thankfully quick ride down wide avenues and steep curves into Baixa. The driver drops you off two blocks from your hotel, explaining in swishy syllables that it would take 5 more minutes to drive there on these narrow, one-way streets.
Admire the black and white cobblestones beneath your already-weary feet. Check in. The receptionist walks you through a map of Lisbon. Memorize the names of two tram lines, a couple of sights, and the neighborhood with the bars.
Wash up, change clothes, and beeline for the nearest tipple. But the sun will set soon — the winter solstice was mere days ago — so take a detour in the waning light to snap some photos of at the Arco da Rua Augusta on Praca do Comercio. Walk along the water and squint to admire the 25th April Bridge and Christ the Redeemer. Wonder if this is what San Francisco would look like if it had been settled by Catholics. Go in with healthy skepticism, but leave full codfish cakes and buzzed caipirinhas.
Head back to the hotel to scope out dinner options. Then you remember that you are from San Francisco settled by drunken sailors , and you walk. Order a bottle of vinho verde for a stunning 14 euros. Realize this may be heaven in a glass, and panic that you may never find it again when you get back home.
