In Lisbon This Week: A Love Letter with Pastry Crumbs

Well, here I am—again! Lisbon, my old flame. It’s been 15 years since our last rendezvous, and I figured it was time we got reacquainted. You know what they say: second dates are less awkward, especially when the city already knows what kind of traveler you are. I wasn’t here to tick off must-sees or battle through a guidebook like it’s a military operation. No, this time I came armed with vibes only and a dangerously low resistance to Portuguese pastries.

The Sequel Is Always More Chill

There’s something oddly relaxing about returning to a city you’ve already “done.” No pressure. No checklist. Just vibes and wandering—and maybe the occasional smug detour past a giant tourist queue thinking, “Ha! Did that in 2009.” I’ve spent most of the past few days ambling around, revisiting spots I vaguely remember, and discovering places I totally missed last time. (Or maybe they weren’t there yet—Lisbon’s been busy.)

Speaking of which: Lisbon has changed. It’s cleaner now, with more legit street art and less of the “I had a marker and no talent” variety. The tuk-tuks, though, have multiplied like caffeinated rabbits. I swear I saw one racing a fake-vintage Fiat full of Instagram influencers up a hill in Alfama. It’s chaos, but it’s cheerful chaos.

Monastery Queues & Inflation Blues

You know you’re aging gracefully as a traveler when you walk past a three-hour line to Jerónimos Monastery and think, “Thank God I already did that.” Honestly, the only thing I queued for this week was a Pastel de Nata… and even that felt a little aggressive.

And yes, it’s more expensive now. But so is everywhere. At this point, a coffee and croissant in most European capitals costs more than my first mobile phone. I’m not even mad. Just mildly disillusioned.

Cork Seats and Neon Dystopias

I took the metro a few times and was delighted to discover that Lisbon has invented cork seating. That’s right—those brilliant people lined their subway seats with cork. It looks good, it works, and I didn’t stick to it like you do with those plasticky horrors in other cities. Portugal really said: let’s turn wine-stopper material into interior design.

That said, someone needs to stage an intervention for the lighting designers of Lisbon’s metro stations. Half of them look like a post-apocalyptic rave where the theme is “fluorescent regret.”

Kylie Minogue and the Mystery of the Missing Vocals

Last night, I had the bright idea to go see Kylie Minogue in concert. Long story short: I think she was singing? Hard to say. The sound was 90% bass, 10% muffled yelling, and 100% questionable. I suspect half of it was pre-recorded, but then again, I didn’t come for vocal purity. I came for spectacle—and wooden architecture, apparently. The arena was built with an astonishing amount of timber. If Kylie ever gives up on pop music, she could pivot to hosting cabin retreats in there.

Quiet Commutes & the Glory of Silence

But here’s the thing that really warmed my heart: public transport etiquette. Lisbonites are quiet. Like, library-on-a-Sunday quiet. No one’s blasting voice messages or playing TikToks at full volume. Everyone’s just minding their business, commuting like grown-ups. Coming from Spain, where a bus ride can feel like co-hosting a morning talk show with strangers, this was borderline magical.

It was so peaceful, I almost missed my stop. Which would have been fine—because honestly, wandering aimlessly seems to be my main travel strategy these days.

Final Thoughts (and Too Many Natas)

In conclusion: I’ve already eaten far too many pastéis de nata. They are warm, flaky, creamy little sugar bombs sent by angels (or very talented bakers). The ones from Pastéis de Belém still reign supreme, but even the mediocre ones here are better than the sad knock-offs I’ve been buying in Spanish supermarkets. At this point, I should just commit and get a loyalty card. Or a glucose monitor.

Anyway, that’s it for now. I’m heading to Sintra tomorrow for a day trip filled with magical castles, misty forests, and, presumably, more pastries. If I survive the hills without turning into a pastel myself, I’ll report back. Até logo…