From a Fairytale into a New Day

The evening before, we met up with some friends at Rossio Square. We were coming from a full day of sightseeing, while they were heading to a Benfica match, where the team had comfortably beaten Tondela 3–0. Running into familiar faces on the other side of Europe, when you’re already caught up in travel mode, always feels easy and relaxed – exactly as it should.

The next morning was therefore long and slow, and no one was particularly eager to get out of bed. There was no need to rush anyway, as the last day had been planned from the start at a leisurely pace. After all the buses, trains, metros and taxis, today it was time for a boat.

Across the Famous Tagus Estuary

The ferries depart from Cais do Sodré, right next to the metro station, so getting there is completely straightforward. The best part is that you can use the same card for crossing the river as you do for the metro – the Viva Viagem card.

The boats are surprisingly spacious for such a short journey, as the ride to Cacilhas takes just under ten minutes. Unfortunately, there isn’t much of a view, since the windows are hopelessly dirty, so instead of the river you mostly end up staring at your own blurred reflection.

Still, I managed to snap a quick photo just as the doors were closing and catch a fleeting glimpse of the bridge.

Otherwise, as you cross the river, somewhere behind the windows a reddish, blurred outline of the 25 de Abril Bridge reflects back at you, one of Lisbon’s most recognizable symbols. Through those windows, however, that very symbol felt oddly unrecognizable.

Bus or Taxi – That Is the Question

When you arrive, you land straight at a bus stop from which you’re supposedly meant to continue on to the sights on this side of the river. The bus was nowhere to be seen, and after more than twenty minutes we were approached by “taxi drivers” — guys who can arrange everything: transport, tickets, and even a bit of personal guiding. For an appropriate price, of course.

It was the same in Sintra, where being invited so eagerly immediately raises suspicion. A real taxi driver waits in his car. This, however, was probably the only bus stop in the world where I didn’t see a single official taxi, so waiting was really the only option left.

f nothing else, at least the waiting came with a pleasant view of Lisbon and the Vasco da Gama Bridge.

Cristo Rei

One would expect that the only major attraction on this side of the river would be better served when it comes to transport connections. That unfortunate bus arrived with more than an hour’s delay, and even then it felt more like an excuse for a bus than an actual service. A bus stop packed with tourists was clearly too much of a challenge for it, though we were lucky enough that it stopped exactly where we were standing.

The statue of Jesus Christ, of course, stands on a hill, so walking there from the ferry terminal is not something I would recommend. It was built by the Catholic Church as a gesture of gratitude that the country was not directly involved in the horrors of the world war.

The path to the viewing platform at 82 meters leads past the ticket office, where a sign informed us that the waiting time to go up was more than an hour — which, at that moment, was precisely an hour too long. So we settled for the free viewing platform at ground level.

Confusing Views Above Lisbon

Here on the ground-level viewing platform, the views are somewhat confusing. In front of you stands Jesus Christ himself, uncannily reminiscent of the statue in Rio de Janeiro, and if you turn around 180 degrees, you are met with a bridge that suspiciously resembles the Golden Gate in San Francisco.

You can’t help but wonder where you actually are.

You are, of course, in Europe, in Portugal, in Lisbon, at the Cristo Rei statue… hmm, not really – at least not in Lisbon. The statue stands in a place called Almada, which shares with Lisbon only a bridge and the fact that everyone refers to the statue as a “Lisbon” landmark. Perhaps this is where the poor transport connections come from.

The devil is in the details: this is not Rio, because here Jesus does not gaze over the city but embraces it with outstretched arms, as if protecting it. And it is not San Francisco either, even though the bridge is red; the only thing they truly share is the fact that they were designed by the same engineering team.

Let’s set this geographical illusion aside. It was lovely up here, but it was also time to head back. The only taxi driver who stood around there, clearly bored, simply shook his head when I asked whether he could take us across the bridge back to Lisbon. Apparently, the resentment runs deep — after all, they took Jesus from them… So there was nothing left to do but wait for that little yellow bus.

A 500-Year-Old Monastery for an American Burger

It’s true that the day before we had covered a much longer distance, both in kilometers and in time, but today’s crossing of the Tagus and that long wait for the bus had clearly worn us out.

After taking the ferry back to Lisbon, we were faced with that familiar dilemma that comes up at least once on every trip, especially when traveling with children. According to the plan, we were supposed to head to Belém, where the famous Jerónimos Monastery, the Belém Tower, the Monument to the Discoveries — whose name is nearly impossible to remember, Padrão dos Descobrimentos (how are you supposed to remember that?) — and, of course, the obligatory custard tarts from the legendary Pastéis de Belém await. But our heads had other ideas.

The craving leaned toward something simpler and more down-to-earth than lofty monasteries and symbolic monuments of discoveries made 500 years ago.

So we ended up in an American burger joint near Pink Street, that pink-paved street covered with umbrellas and known for its many bars.

Apparently, when you’ve had enough of logistics, rides, sightseeing, and small frustrations caused by buses, a burger simply feels like the right answer. We did, however, forget to ask whether they knew Luka Dončić — after all, the place was called Dallas Burger Joint.

The sights of Belém will have to wait for our next visit to Portugal, when we won’t be quite so hungry for a hamburger.

Chasing Bubbles, Souvenirs and Family Happiness

After lunch, it was time for souvenir shopping, a business largely run by vendors from India or Pakistan.

And so, at one point in the historic heart of Lisbon’s old town, known as Baixa, the sounds of Hindi and unmistakable Slovenian dialects mingled inside a souvenir shop — all in the service of negotiating the optimal strategy for buying and selling tea coasters decorated with azulejo patterns.

In the end, the deal was sealed in English, to the satisfaction of both parties involved.

The sun shyly peeked out from behind the clouds once again, and since we had negotiated like true professionals, it felt only right to stop at Praça do Comércio — the Commerce Square.

Nara and Nia happily chased soap bubbles as they floated above the square.

As we watched the scene unfold, we were able to quietly acknowledge, with contentment, that we were bringing another journey to a full and beautiful close — in the way that matters most to us: together.