How to Say You’re a Tourist Without Saying You’re a Tourist, (Lisbon, Portugal, Day 1)

Our flight from Philly to Lisbon was only 5 1/2 hours. Let me tell you kids, that is not enough time to get a good solid snooze in. So today, the jet lag is crushing me. 

Though we did a lot of walking, we cheated with the Big Bus. For folks who follow me for travel tips DO NOT use City Bus Portugal, unless you enjoy flamenco music with the lyrics Bloody bloody heart played on a loop. And maybe you do. I’m not going to judge. 

It’s a beautiful city with little evidence of homelessness or crime. My measuring stick is Paris, of course. There is considerably less pollution, graffiti and litter as well. 

The Big Red Bus left me wanting.  It doesn’t help that when a recorded fun fact was announced on our cheap ear buds, it was incongruent with what we were seeing: “And here is a building so famous it won the Pritzker Award for best architecture…”, meantime I’m looking at a wall of cement and a shipping yard. 

Here are some photos taken with my blurry head and sagging energy—oh, and a husband who does not currently know where north is (AND HE’S AN EAGLE SCOUT, FOLKS!). Tomorrow will be better, I’m sure.