October 25, 2007
Lisbon, Portugal Aquaduct
“Lisbon is the most beautiful city that I have ever been to,” exclaimed a curly haired Romeo of a German born Portugese in the youth hostel of Oeiras. Mira thought that he was a hunk, I just thought that he was right about Lisbon. Lisbon is beautiful, that is all I need to say about it.
We stayed in Oeiras, which is around a half hour train ride from the center of Lisbon for around four days just outfitting our bicycles by scouring dumps for materials that could be rigged up to haul our gear. We also drank a lot of wine and sat on the beach just thinking about how beautiful this damn Portugese country is. In addition to boasting about Lisbon, the curly haired Romeo also told us about a part of the city that is just full of bars and truly crazy.
“Go there ” Go there now ” he told us. We did. He said the name of the district was something that sounded like “Barbarawalter.” But neither Mira nor I could believe that anyplace could be named “Barbarawalter” so we keep asking him the name of it. “Barbara Walter?” that is the name of the drinking district “Barbara Walter?.”
“Yes,” we were told, “Barbarawalter.”
Oh well, I guess we were going to “Barbarawalter” and we would enjoy it all the better for its silly name.
So we hopped on the train and rode through the night into Lisbon center and walked up the hill towards “Barbarawalter.” “How are we going to find this place?” Mira wondered. A large tourist map on the other side of the road beckoned to us and we ran to it and searched it for the peculiar district known as “Barbarawalter.” Our fingers ran over the map and did not find a “Barbarawalter” but did discover a Barrio Alto. That was it Barrio Alto
So we mounted the hill to this district and were quickly met by it’s graffiti plastered walls and posh looking night goers. We walked up through the district once and were only amazed by the splendor of the architecture and the excessive graffiti. The bars in this famous night district just seemed ritzy and rather lame. Mira and I briskly walked the entire district and were not called in my any bar in particular, so I choose one by force and we walked in through the door and ordered up a couple of the cheapest beers on hand. One and a half Euro each was an acceptable price to pay, but we had to drink them quick because the company that surrounded us seemed to be sucking our energy. They were of that unhuman majority sect of human that seems more like wall paper than sentient being. So we slammed out beers and retained our humanity as we quickly made way for the door. This done, we sought another bar to quickly erase the memories of the previous one. But to no avail, we were stumped. But we drank anyway; had fun; then went home to hump.
So that was “Barbarawalter.”
I tip my hat to the experience.
- Drinking Portugal