It translates roughly, “There is no road that leads to happiness. Happiness is the road.”
In a city where each road and passageway is more beautiful than the next, I believe this statement is oh so very true. Here is just a few of the perfect pieces of happiness we found in the streets of Lisbon.
Growing Fat and Happy on Custard
Ryan and I have begun a little game. On practically every street corner lie small bakeries
selling an abundance of delectable treats. Of all we’ve tried (and we’ve tried a lot) we love the pastel de nata the most. Imagine a cupcake sized dense crème brule surrounded by a flaky, buttery crust. Ryan and I get ours to go, and in three glorious bites, we gobble them down as we walk. Each bakery boasts their family recipe is “the best” and “most authentic,” so we’ve decided to find our favorite. After eating lots and lots of them, we’ve found small differences. Some are sweeter. Some are eggy-er. Some include nutmeg and cinnamon. Some have a smaller filling to crust ratio…suffice to say we can’t decide on a favorite, and despite the miles we’re walking, we’ve gained a few pounds just on custard…sweet, sweet custard.Sipping Shots with Berries in the Street with Locals
On the small Largo de Sao Domingos one will find a small walk up counter sandwich between a hat store and a small café. From it, two guys serve up shots of ginjiha in little plastic cups. Made from sugar, grappa and the cherry-like ginja berry, locals stand around the little plaza slowly getting tipsy as they play cards and talk to neighbors. How could we not stop! I hope ginjiha and egg custard mixes well in my stomach.
Impromptu Antique Buying from a Giggly Old Man
Buildings in Portugal are routinely decorated with brightly colored, hand pained tiles. Kitschy tourist shops sell replicas that are expensive and machine made. Being a lover of all things tile, I’ve been on the look out for the real thing, but you can’t find them anywhere…until today.
Wandering in the old sailors’ quarter, The Alfama, we found a tiny antique shop. Unceremoniously tossed into a wooden crate next to the entrance sat dozens of the antique hand painted tiles obviously scavenged from a dilapidated building. One man’s trash is certainly another man’s treasure. It was sad to see these glorious pieces of history thrown in a big pile, but given their very reasonable price, Ryan and I start digging. Like lions ripping at the body of its prey, we worked with a rather ridiculous zeal. Hearing our work, the owner of the shop stepped outside to giggle at our frenzy. With a twinkle in his eye and a deep belly chuckle, he led us to the back of his shop where we found crates upon crates of more tiles! For over an hour the three of us worked to find the perfect set. Being enveloped by such an infectious laugh for so long, Ryan and I couldn’t help but giggle at our good luck as we walked out of the stop with our newly found treasures.
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