One of the things I’m looking forward to doing on this trip is rejuvenating my t-shirt collection. Given that I’ve worked mostly from home for the last six years, my corporate uniform is t-shirt and shorts and so my shirts wear out rather rapidly. However I have been collecting them for years so the rotation time is still fairly lengthy.
It has been said by people snobbier than me that only bogans buy t-shirts from places they visit. Guilty as charged and pass the mullet wig. But my collection has been supplemented and will be further supplemented as we bogan our way through Europe and Morocco.
But back to Lisbon. We’ve been here before so know the lay of the land but “mop-up” tours are always useful to do or see things you didn’t do last time. What we did do last time was visit the cathedral. Of course every reasonably sized town or city in Europe has a cathedral, usually of gothic design except Cordoba which has a cathedral inside a mosque built in the 8th century – you couldn’t make that up.
We visited the Lisbon cathedral last time we were here but I was hanging out to see Vasco da Gama’s tomb again – not really. It’s well worth seeing – the cathedral that is. And most non-Portuguese people under 50 (especially Australians) wouldn’t have a clue who VdG is. I, on the other hand and my generation learnt about his exploratory exploits (the sea route from Portugal to India in 1497) in primary school. I guess he wasn’t confused about his gender and contributed absolutely nothing to the advancement of the climate change “debate” and he was a bit of a prick so consequently doesn’t get a mention in the school curriculum these days.
It was actually a bit of a struggle to get into the cathedral. First the Lisbon police (all of them it appeared) were practising for a parade past the cathedral and royal palace the next day to celebrate a momentous occasion. Not the centennial of their establishment or the bicentennial. Not even the 150th anniversary but the 152nd anniversary of their establishment. And that apparently justified road closures, mile long queues and rampant crime in every other part of the city. Then we were delayed further by some non-descript ambassador who wanted the place to himself and his naval honour guard. Eventually we got in.
But Portugal’s a great place. The Brazilians love moving here because they speak the lingo and there’s no crime apart from when the annual police parade occurs.