In which Layla and Roz start feeling like Lisbon locals

by Layla

Having enjoyed a hotel buffet breakfast, Roz and I sauntered out onto the street in our sandals and bare legs, only to retreat on a gust of wind and rain to our room, to increase our layers and pick up an umbrella. Back out again, we walked up the hill to the Museu Calouste Gulbenkian, where we looked at a couple of modern art exhibitions and wandered round a large collection of art items from around the world - think Roman vases, etc. And found ourselves in the cafe, having rather a pleasant lunch of pastries and salads. We'd really been aiming for the modern art museum but missed it in the profusion of museums, and instead headed back up another hill (Lisbon is rather hilly, it seems) to a local cinema, where we joined the queues of enthusiastic cinema-goers, delighted in the revelation that most films originally in English are subtitled in Portugese, rather than dubbed, and settled down to a most enjoyable screening of Jane Eyre.

After the film we emerged to unexpected sunshine. After a speedy bit of impromptu clothes shopping inspired by Roz spotting a yoga place and wanting the appropriate garb, should she choose to take a lesson, we walked up the hill to Parque Eduardo VII where we were delighted to find a pretty little cafe by a duck pond. We sat down in the sun and drank beer and contemplated dining options for the rest of the holiday. And started to feel hungry.

After our drinks, and a return to the hotel for me to make lots of Skype-based restaurant reservations, and both of us to glam up a tad, we walked to our chosen restaurant of the evening, Mezza Luna. This rather nice Italian had the merit of being near our hotel, and it had a lovely bustling vibe of locals enjoying themselves. A tomato soup for me, and spinach and goat's cheese salad fpr Roz, followed by an aubergine/spaghetti thing for Roz and a vegetable pasta thing for me. Amusingly, as I pulled out something that might have been a hair or might just as well have been part of a vegetable from my plate, it was whisked away from under my eyes without explanation. Eventually a second one was brought, as I sat, non-plussed. Clearly they took hair-in-the-food possibility very seriously indeed! Surprisingly for me, I couldn't face a pudding, so after lingering over a nice Portugese wine, we strolled back to the hotel. We'd contemplated going to a bar. By 10pm the jet lag refused to consider such a thing, so we succumbed to bed.