“Walking is falling forward. Each step we take is an arrested plunge, a collapse averted, a disaster braked. In this way, to walk becomes an act of faith.”
– Paul Salopek
For the first two days of my four-day stay in Lisbon, between my appointment at immigration, and picking Michael and the cats up from the airport, I walked through near empty streets between intermittent rain showers. It felt strange to wander through a city whose arteries are usually choked with tourists.
Three years ago, during my first visit I wondered how the locals lived with all the intrusion and congestion. This time I wondered, as I strolled through streets where the clinking of glasses, the lilt of laughter, and the soft click of camera shutters had fallen silent, how the locals felt about the lack of tourism.
The buildings were as charming as before. The azulejos as interesting. The calçadas as mesmerizing.
But devoid of the soundscapes that mark and celebrate life’s joys and interactions, Lisbon felt ghostly. Empty. Soulless.
I felt too conspicuous to walk around with my camera, and when I did pull out my phone to snap a picture, I felt uncomfortable – as if I were doing something wrong.
As the days tumbled one into the other, my feet left faint imprints as I created zig-zag loops that began and ended at my rented apartment not far from the gaze of the Marquês de Pombal and his lion, where they stand at the top end of Avenida da Liberdade, gazing towards the glittering water of the Rio Tejo.
From the green expanse of Parque Eduardo VII, past the Museu Calouste Gulbenkian towards Campo Pequeno, I wandered in a pensive mood on the first day, before wet weather urged me back past locked up coffee shops that otherwise would have served as welcome shelters.
During a break in the rain I headed down Avenida da Liberdade, past the Rossio train station, towards Praça Comércio, where I turned right in the direction of Time out Market, leaving a lone father and two toddlers playing at the feet of a statue. I passed through Rua Nova do Carvalho, where the nightlife of Cais do Sodré had gone mute, before I looped back to pick up organic produce at Go Natural, as hunger pangs prompted me to hurry across the empty plaza of the Carmo Convent where it’s ruins stand as a reminder of how life can change, and past huddles of food delivery guys waiting to pick up orders from the restaurants that are still operating.
On a different day I left the flow of cars and pedestrians to wander through sidestreets to the Principe Real garden, where dogs paused to smell the fresh air, while their owners gazed into empty spaces or at their own shiny reflections in the screens of their smartphones. I paused at the Jardim de São Pedro de Alcântara with a couple of other lone wanderers to admire the views towards the Castelo de São Jorge, before I lost myself in the side streets of Baixa and Chiado until my feet ached, and I cut back across Praça Dom Pedro IV to buy pasteis de nata at Fábrica da Nata as a reward for my endless roaming.
On my last afternoon, I joined a throng of locals to enjoy the warmth of the sun turning a winter’s day into one filled with the promise of spring. I followed the foot and cycle path from where it leaves the Jardim Amália Rodrigues and snakes towards the greenery of Monsanto Forest in the distance. Chatter surrounded me, as people on bicycles or on foot passed by me, and when I stopped to gaze towards the towering arches of the Aqueduto das Águas Livres, it felt for a brief moment as if I had stumbled upon the stirrings of Lisbon’s soul as it used to be, before the pandemic.
Written by: Jolandi
Portuguese Words:
calçadas – pavements
azulejos – tiles
primavera – spring
inverno – winter
caminhar – to walk
passear – to wander
rua – street
rio – river
chuva – rain
sol – sun
What a wonderful gallery! I bet if felt weird and wrong, in a way, to be surrounded with such silence. I haven’t been to Portugal at all yet and would love Lisbon, people or no people. I found myself clicking on several of your photos to view them larger. I guess I wish to be there.
Lisbon is a city one can so easily fall in love with, Manja. It is compact and so walkable. Well, it is built on 7 hills, so there are many ups and downs, but what a great way to get fit. 🙂 One of the days I estimated that I walked a total of about 17km. The silence and lack of people were really a bit unnerving, and although I love deserted places this felt wrong. Hope you can visit it someday. It is definitely a favourite of mine. -Jolandi
I can understand that feeling of discomfort at photographing Lisbon during this awful pandemic. Almost like taking a picture of a sick friend, I think. Your photos are wonderful though, and sometimes it is good to see buildings and monuments without the crowds of tourists. How annoying they were in pre-covid times!
I remember staying alone in Vienna in October, years and years ago. There were hardly any tourists, the weather was chilly and dull and I walked and walked for miles around the city.
You hit the nail on the head, Clare. Yes, it was like taking pictures of a sick friend.
Like you, I much prefer less congested places. Tourism can be both a curse and a blessing. I definitely think that there are places in the world that can actually benefit from less tourists. And every time I want to get on my high horse about it, I have to remind myself that I too am a tourist, both contributing to the good and the bad. In my travels I’ve often contemplated my impact and tried to make choices that would be better for the places I travelled to. It is often much better to travel outside the peak tourist season in so many ways like you did by travelling to Vienna in October. Each season holds their own beauty too. For now, it is good to look back on those special travel moments we may have forgotten. – Jolandi
How strange it must have felt! I can’t even imagine some of these big world capitals so empty and quiet. Just as we are feeling some hope here with vaccines becoming available and cases falling, Europe seems to be on a different and less positive trajectory. When the continent is back to health, I know we will be eager to go to places like Lisbon once again!
Europe is definitely on a less positive trajectory, Lex. After living all my life in countries that are less democratic and less ‘developed’ as it is often claimed, I really marvel at the responses, behaviour, and attitudes of both governments and the people who inhabit these so-called developed places. There is also an enormous pushback against vaccines, which I can’t quite understand, as vaccines have basically eradicated so many diseases in the past. Too much time is spent on talking and not enough on doing (apart from closing shops and trying to lock people in their houses), and in the meantime the world economy is further deteriorating, effectively destroying so many more lives in the process. It really saddens me. – Jolandi
Sounds are part of the landscape of a place: I think it’s why we find it unnerving when we’re in a place of absolute silence. I’m guessing that there’s also an evolutionary reason for feeling uneasy when there’s little noise in a place that’s usually filled with different sounds. If you’re in, say, a forest where no birds are singing or squirrels and other small animals chattering in the trees, you might well wonder if there was a disaster earlier that drove all the animals away, or there’s a predator which has frightened them into silence and may be stalking you! Anyway, I would feel uneasy walking through an eerily quiet city, even one as beautiful as Lisbon. Here’s hoping that as more people are vaccinated, cities will open up again and we’ll all be able to travel and enjoy each other’s company, and noise!
I love your description, Hangaku. Yes, there must be some evolutionary reason for this aversion to complete silence. We also get so accustomed to certain sounds that we eventually aren’t even aware of them until they are no longer there. Sadly Europe’s (and many other countries in the world) vaccination plans are in a shambles, so although so many people are having high hopes for that, I’m not convinced that those hopes will become a reality anytime soon. I try not to dwell on that too much, as it is incredibly depressing to think about how long the state of affairs will drag on. – Jolandi
So pleased you are getting settled in Portugal.
Thanks, Peggy. – Jolandi
Beautiful photos! It’s interesting how when popular cities are thronged with tourists , we long for a more peaceful experience. Now that they are devoid of visitors, we long for the return to vibrancy. Two extremes. Perhaps something in the middle would be good.
That is so true, Caroline. And finding that middle ground is so difficult. Not just on a personal level, but also on a social and political level as communities. – Jolandi
These empty streets are just too sad.. pasteis de nata was my breakfast and afternoon tea when there.. 😉
A very good choice indeed for breakfast and afternoon tea, Lisa. Michael had a laugh when I confessed that I bought 6 and finished them off in two sittings. 🙂 – Jolandi
Oh Jolandi the photos are stunning, despite the eeriness of the empty city. How I love the comments from your readers: all the visceral and poignant perspectives here. I guess we are all moved to see an empty city, even now, this far in. But! Also you met with immigration and picked up Michael and the cats. Thus so much more on your mind as you walked.
That is so true. Spaces that are empty which aren’t supposed to feel very eerie. – Jolandi