Transatlantic Crossing - Day 22 - Arrival in Lisbon

It was dawn Easter morning when the L'Austral turned to enter the wide mouth of the Tagus River (Rio Tejo) and dock in Lisbon. The city's mercury vapor lights winked in the dawn as we drifted beneath the sprawling Bridge of April 25th (the name memorializes a military coup that changed Portugal in 1974). Then the ship pivoted neatly into its berth.

For the first time in 21 days we listened to the roar of overhead jets, rumbling trucks, and the urban thrum of the city beyond. The bow breaks of the sea and the high pitched calls of brown boobies were gone. Lisbon's white, low buildings burst bright as the sun rose, and their ubiquitous terra-cotta roofs seemed to open like flowers.

We had stood on the ship's bridge the day before to see how the L'Austral might navigate itself in tricky situations like this. Cyn and I stood among its gewgaws laid out before us like the hardware of Star Trek's Enterprise. This was nothing like the big "boat wheels" that guided the caravels invented by Portugal's seafaring godfather Prince Henry the Navigator. There were neither sextants nor dog-eared, unfurled maps reading "Here be dragons" in front of us, nor any sailors climbing the lateen sails to ensure we made it to port. Only computerized, glass screens thirty feet wide and six feet deep. Modern systems like this read the weather in advance, sense the actions of the waves and current below, and eye every ship within hundreds of miles by radio, noting precisely the size, direction, and type of anything that floats from mammoth freighters to the tiniest sailboat.

Mostly, expedition ships like L'Austral run on auto pilot. Today the big Pirate wheels that you see Jack Sparrow spin in Pirates of the Caribbean have been reduced to two tiny wheels 3 inches in diameter, navigated using nothing more than zeroes and ones. You can guide the whole ship with your index finger.

When we disembarked it was difficult. Not only because the voyage had been a joy and a respite, but because it was painful to once again part ways with the friends that we had made: Francis, Robert, Stan, Robin, Rose, Deirdre and Maleki, Christian and Clara – all heading down the gangplank and on their separate ways just as we soon would. Some would head home to Paris, others to Switzerland and Ireland, or continue more travel to Morocco, Portugal, Scotland or Norway. Some members of the crew, like Ricki, were done for now, him heading to the Philippines to see his wife and kids. Others were just getting started and would continue north. For our part we would spend some time in Lisbon and Porto with friends and then begin threading our way by train and ferry through Western Europe and, eventually, the Arctic Circle.

I thought of the musicians and dancers we had met and enjoyed, the wonderful, kind people who worked on the ship, the spectacular sunsets and the brooding ones too. The crashing waves and the endless, sparkling Atlantic. But mostly it was the people that stuck with me.

We are all of us like neurons, I thought, and together comprise something like a great global brain. Eight billion humans firing off our feelings and thoughts and ideas, making these strange language-noises to share what is on our minds with the other minds around us. Just as synapses lay down the paths for cementing memories, insights, feelings, and fears, we establish relationships to keep the signaling pathways open. In this way, each of us changes the world with what we think and do, with our "selves" blinking, linking, sending out messages that ripple one by one across the world. The whole planet is, in fact and at any given moment, the sum chaotic total of all of the human race bumping up against itself. There are always bad actors in the mix and we must be wary of them; in the words of Walt Whitman, "avoid their souls," but mostly humans are a marvelous and magical thing.

Exploring Lisbon - Part 1

After disembarking the L’Austral and finding our My Story Hotel on big Rossio Square, we met Frank and Andrea, long time friends from Pittsburgh who happened to be in the city. Café Marzano at Largo Rafael Bordallo Pinheiro (largo means Square) seemed to be a good place to catch up and we helped ourselves to cappuccino and avocado, toast, mushroom risotto, buffalo mozzarella, and a margarita pizza. More delicious food after supping for 21 days at sea.

We intended to work it off exploring the beauty and liveliness of old Lisbon. The great port is growing more prosperous all the time, returning to its salad days as a great empire, full of life even now, in April, before the summer vacationers came spilling in.

When I first visited Portugal in 2013, it was not this lively. Still it was gathering speed because it was so inexpensive that even the Spanish would come there for vacation. Unfortunately it's not as inexpensive as it used to be for Americans, but is still a bargain if you live in Western Europe. Ten years later, it feels twice as busy while remaining unique, abundant with history, stunning architecture and wonderful people.

We would spend a lot of time wandering the old largos and alleyways above Rossio Square, walking its steps, dodging the city’s ancient trams, visiting their local retail shops, tiny restaurants, and enjoying some spectacular street performers. Dinner at Restaurant Carmo along the Largo do Carmo was excellent, served up by Rodrigo, our waiter who grew up in the Amazon Rain Forest (he showed us pictures of his farm). And at the tiny Vista de Castelo I ate fresh octopus that was the best I had eaten anywhere; more like a roasted turkey than an underground sea animal. We visited the church of Saint Vicente de Flora and I snapped a picture of the Brasilieria do Chiado with its beautiful bar, pastries and Belle Epoch design.

But before all of that we took a cab to see the famous Discoverers Monument along the Tagus River, and muscular Belem Tower, built in the 16th century and the gateway to the port. Portugal is famous for its maritime feats. Before the city was leveled November 1, 1755 by an earthquake and tsunami, it was one of Europe’s great powers, colonizing from Brazil to the Pacific Islands and pretty much everything in between.

At the tip of the great sculpture sits Prince Henry the Navigator, the man who invented the Caravel in the 15th century and spearheaded the country's explorations. For 200 years, Portuguese seafarers rode these ships to navigate the world with the speed and nimbleness that made the country so powerful. Unfortunately, the massive sculpture (170 ft tall) does not tell the story of the genocide native people and cultures endured at the hands of their colonizers. That age was both a dark and inspiring period in world history, a time when the human race was finally beginning to comprehend the true breadth and diversity of the planet, not always with an open mind. Portugal played a foundational role in those exploits and it’s difficult to know what sort of world we would be living in today had Lisbon not been leveled and the country broken. It may have become England or Japan, small but mighty. Still, these days, it's doing pretty well!