On September 21st, I went on my first solo trip. Destination: Lisbon.

In hindsight, I can’t believe it took me this long to finally travel by myself, not only because I came to Spain alone, so I know I’m capable, but because I love being alone. A solo trip seems like a no-brainer, yet I was once again held back by my own anxiety and fear of the unknown. After several therapy sessions, I realized that I needed to not “spend so much time up here”, ‘up here’ being my brain, and spend more time taking action and making plans. If I continued to live my life waiting for other people I wouldn’t see or do half the things I wanted. So, embracing this new mentality, I booked a roundtrip flight, and three days at a hostel recommended to me.

Day 1

I arrived in Lisbon before 11 in the morning, feeling calm but excited. I navigated the metro system from the airport to the center of the city, and then walked to my hostel, passing shops I immediately wanted to pop into, and noticing the brightly colored buildings, reminiscent of Madrid, and yet with a sort of unique beauty and charm that I couldn’t quite place. I dropped off my bags at the hostel, and then walked to Praça das Flores, a small plaza with lots of trees, with restaurants and a quiosque, from which I ordered a coffee and a pastéis de nata. I sat there for awhile, enjoying the solitude, and soaking up the moment: I was in Lisbon! Alone! And the sun is shining! And the air has a pleasant humidity that I am LOVING compared to the desert dryness of Madrid!

After I ate lunch in the same plaza, I made my way to the Camões Monument in Praça Luís de Camões, the meeting point for a walking tour. The tour lasted almost 2.5 hours, and by the end of it, I felt like I had a slightly better grasp of where I was, along with a greater understanding of the city and its history. And, although I had heard that everyone in Portugal speaks English, I was still somewhat surprised as to the extent, and the proficiency; I would begin conversations in Spanish, before eventually switching almost entirely to English, as the person with whom I was speaking to would do so. While Portuguese and Spanish look very similar in written form, the spoken form sounds completely foreign to my ears.

Dinnertime came, and I decided to head for a restaurant recommended to me by a friend. Unfortunately, all the tables were full, so I began walking back to my hostel, stopping at Casa da Praia Bistro & Wine Bar, a restaurant I had passed earlier. Sitting outside, I enjoyed the Duck confit and Vinho Verde, while the waiters stopped by to chat with me. I asked one of the waiters if he preferred that I speak to him in Spanish or English, and he hesitated before admitting “English”.

My first night sleeping in the hostel I realized that budget housing while traveling was completely fine for 24 year old broke me, but not for 27 year old broke me, and I would be seeking out the Airbnb option for next time.

Day 2

After a rough night’s sleep, I made my way towards the Rossio metro station where I would buy a 24 hour transportation ticket, ride the famous tram 28, and continue along with the scheduled itinerary I had made for myself just a few days prior. As I was about to leave the ticket machine, an older woman standing at the machine next to me, stopped me, and asked for help. I assisted her and her husband in using the machine, and then they introduced themselves as Mary and Michael; Mary kept turning to Michael and explaining everything to him in French. They said they were from Ottawa, and when I told them I was going to ride tram 28 and then go to Belém, they said “We think we’ll just tag along with you if that’s alright!”. And thus began a beautiful friendship for the rest of my time in Lisbon, seeing the sites with Mary and Michael, my new pals from Canada (everybody loves Canadians). Mary was retired and Michael was a bus driver with a deep love for photographing everything.

Tram 28, being the tourist attraction that it is, had a long line waiting to get on, but thanks to a tip from a generous bystander, Mary, Michael, and I, boarded tram 12, and let it rattle us around Lisbon. My original plan to stop at one of the lookout points, have a coffee, journal, went out the window, but that was ok–my hope that I would find people to share in some of these adventures with, to, in some way, cross borders and make new connections with people, was fully met. After doing a loop of the city, we hopped off, and got on a different tram, 15E, that would take us to Belém.

In Belem, I saw the biggest attractions–the Torre de Belém, the Monastario, and, my favorite, Pastéis de Belém, home of the original pastel de nata. For lunch, Mary, Michael, and I, went to O Recanto; Mary and Michael were very impressed at my Google Map skills, and took note, to which I silently wondered how they had survived without maps on their phone, or where on earth they had been eating that wasn’t a complete tourist trap. After Belem, we boarded the now very crowded tram, and let it take us to LxFactory, a hipster-y, art center, with restaurants, small shops, and books. This was probably my favorite spot in my whole three days in Lisbon.

Mary, Michael, and I, parted ways once back in the city center, and made tentative plans to see each other the next day in Sintra. I had a quiet dinner on the terrace of a farm-to-table restaurant somewhat near my hostel: Even locations that seem close to where you are, feel pretty far when the only way to get there or back is via a steeply inclined hill. My step count gradually went down in my three days there.

Day 3

I had been debating whether or not to go to Sintra only because I felt like I could easily find things to see and do and eat in Lisbon, and I didn’t want to miss anything in a city I already felt so captivated by. But, everyone told me that Sintra definitely shouldn’t be passed up, and as I had done much of what was on my list anyway, I decided to go.

As I walked to the train station, I decided to stop for coffee and a pastry, however, the first place I stopped at didn’t accept card payments. Then, the second place I stopped at, didn’t accept card either, only this place brought out my coffee and muffin before informing me. Annoyed, I went to the ATM across the street, thinking that if I was going to do that, I could’ve just gone to the first place instead. For a heart-stopping moment, I thought the machine had eaten my bank card, and my life began to flash before my eyes as I thought about how screwed I would be if that happened. It gave me my card back, but refused to let me withdraw cash, and after several minutes of angrily punching buttons, I stormed off, coffee-less, and waiting for some angry Portuguese woman to chase me down the street.

The train station had coffee.

In 40 minutes, I arrived in Sintra, beat the rush to the bus, and arrived at the *almost* entrance to the Palacio da Pena. After a 15 minute, uphill climb, I arrived at the actual entrance to the Palacio, and waited in a horrendous line for 45 minutes, as Michael and Mary passed me, took photos of the outside of the palace, and kindly bought me a bottle of water, as I stood melting in the direct sunlight (and discovered that I am now allergic to the sun, which I can add to my dust mites, horses, rabbits, dogs, cats, and every other living creature with hair, allergen list. Did I mention my eyesight is shit too? Where did these genes come from?).

The palace was beautiful, and I was glad to have seen it in person, but the ticket price, and the waiting in line, was not worth it for me. To tour the inside of the palace, I was left at the mercy of the people in front of me in line, as they took pictures of the bedroom where a wealthy person had once slept hundreds of years ago. This may interest some, for me, I was desperate to get outside where the cool breeze might relax my worsening sun allergy.

After the palace, I met Michael and Mary for a delicious lunch at Incomum, and we took the train back to Rossio station, where we said our goodbyes, and I headed to A Ginjinha, a spot that Anthony Bourdain had once stopped in, and which is now overrun by tourists. Ginjinha is a cherry flavored liquor, and even though I regularly mouth vomit at the idea of cherry flavored anything, I had to give this famous alcohol a chance.

They only took cash.

I spent at least 40 minutes first trying to find an ATM that didn’t have a homeless man blocking the entrance, and then remembering my PIN to withdraw cash from a bank that wasn’t affiliated with mine. The end result is that I did in fact try Ginjinha, and I did not love it. I did, however, enjoy the experience of standing outside, sipping on a shot glass, and shuddering with every sip, while German and French tourists stood in line to wait for their turn.

I took this opportunity to also do a little souvenir shopping. I walked up and down a street and finally stopped at one whose postcards I had been eyeing. I began talking with the young man behind the counter, who asked me to speak in English because he had only been living in Portugal a couple of months and didn’t speak much Portuguese yet. I asked him if he liked Lisbon and he shrugged and then I asked where he’d been living before that and he proceeded to explain that he had originally been in Ukraine but when the war started “we were sent to Poland. And then we had to come here”.

It’s difficult to know how to respond to someone who’s explaining that they’re living in a country because a war forced them out of where they had been living. I only knew to say that I was so sorry and I wished him the best in everything. And then I walked out of the shop, with postcards and a mug, feeling slightly ashamed of my own privilege to talk about traveling and moving to other countries simply on a whim, and not because I drew the wrong lottery ticket in the game of life.

Instead of climbing another arduous set of hills to reach my hostel, I decided to instead go directly to Oficina do Duque, the restaurant I had tried on my first night, for an early dinner, not because I wasn’t still stuffed from lunch, but because I wanted to get a table, and it appeared they were already fully booked online. I got their last table outside, right next to a woman and her two sons visiting from Berlin. The restaurant had an eclectic assortment of dishes (pork with a celery puree?), but it was absolutely delicious, and the family I was seated next to were very nice. Despite not having explored any of Lisbon nightlife, I went back to my hostel to pack; the evening was surprisingly windy and cold.

My flight the next day was in the afternoon, so I spent the morning wandering and seeing last minute sites at a slow and easy pace; La Manteigaria, the competitor to Pastéis de Belém for pasteis de nata, the waterfront, Pink Street, the pharmacy for cream to make my sun allergy go away…just touristy things. I stopped at O Trevo, another Bourdain spot, for a bifana, a meat sandwich that would surely cure just about any hangover.

I took a cab to the airport, and had the chattiest of drivers, telling me all about his home country of Pakistan, and corrupt politicians, and how America bombed villages in the middle East without a care for the innocent living underneath so obviously people are going to feel a certain way about that, and how I would be treated so well in Dubai if I ever visit, and then, he asked if he could drop me off at the bus stop right by the airport because he didn’t want to wait in line with the rest of the cars and pay for parking in order to drop me at the curb.

I arrived back in Madrid in the late afternoon, feeling happy to be back home, overwhelmed at the whirlwind the last three days had been (wasn’t I just here?), and a tinge sad to be away from Lisbon. Portuguese people are, without a doubt, some of the friendliest bunch I have met, much like the Spanish. Perhaps my view is colored because I was on vacation, but there was a warmness and authenticity that I felt amongst them, in nearly all of my interactions. The city itself is beautiful, with the easygoing lifestyle I feel and love in Spain.

I could definitely see myself spending several months in Portugal if had the opportunity. The biggest takeaway from this entire experience though, is the self confidence I developed. I realized that I absolutely can do this, I can navigate new forms of public transportation, and dine alone, and make friends with strangers, and see a whole new city: And it will be one of the most fulfilling experiences I could ever give myself.

When’s the next solo adventure?