A Loving Note for Lisbon, Portugal

Lisbon I felt that we looked at each other and smiled for a few seconds.

A moment just long enough to fuel more curiosity, and brief enough to keep on walking, turning back only once in a crowd of people rushing to get to the other side.

So here we are, you there, me here, separated by the Atlantic Ocean who's shore I spent my last night gazing in to.

Your evenings are melancholy and so beautiful, so beautiful it made me want to cry. Deyta sat there and she felt it too. We brought a bottle of wine and drank it in your honor, soaking in the last orange tinge in your skyline with a longing we didn't know existed.

Liliana told us some of your stories - she opened the window to your soul and was proud to let us see your poetry. The 7 Hills, Homer's Odyssey, Medusa's snakes, The Moors, the earthquake, the poets, the kings, the Illuminati, the freedom fighters and the dictators, the sailors, the lovers, the son and his mother.

I know that we are but strangers. We come and we go. But I mean it when I say I fell in love with you, and I thank you. Now I have these memories of you...wild ones that make me laugh out loud when I'm alone in a quiet coffee shop, and spiritual ones that make my heart ache for unknown reasons. I'll come back and love you more, one day.

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To those of you reading, here are some pictures I took of a really special moment. It was Deyta and I's last night in Lisbon. We slipped away from the loudness of the hostel, savoring a moment just for us. We bought a 10 euro bottle of wine, and brought her travel cup and a sarong. We sat down on the dock by the large train station, Cais do Sodré, where some local musicians blessed us with their music. Many people had the same idea. Some were alone, drawing and listening and watching others, completely content in their solitude. Some were couples, one partner would dance while the other would lay down and close their eyes in bliss. There was a Portuguese man who was in this own world, a very muscular man who was listening to his own headphones and doing walking handstands and Capoeira-like dance moves. He would take a swig of his own drink, then cry out the lyrics of whatever he was listening to with intense passion. He sang out to the ferry that was coming into shore, then turn around and smile when he caught my eye, for I was blatantly observing his independent expressiveness. I put down my sarong, and Deyta poured our wine. We sat in silence. "Dey..this is so pretty, everything about this is so beautiful I could cry." She smiled and nodded understandingly, and continued to look out to the mystical blue sea. The incoming ferries would push large waves against the dock, and a part of me wondered if our endearing moment would end up with us soaked from head to toe. But that didn't happen, that's just the nature of the ocean to instill a fear and respect in you for the unknown. The musicians came around for tips and I tipped them twice, because the world is so much more beautiful with music and we don't realize that until the music stops. I will always, always tip street musicians. Well these are my thoughts on Lisbon, I am still pouring over with gratitude and love for my time there.