A Look at the Portuguese World



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Memoir of a eternal fate

Written by  Ana Bernardo

As an epic, Lisbon stands, majestically in the distance. It's cadence, aroma, light, inspiration. Evening with orange flavor and vanilla. Loves lost and found. A retail of live memories. Fado. The nostalgia. A piece of me.

At 18:00. A warm summer evening in 1999 is made of soft murmurs. The Glória funicular dance, once again, the tracks of the steep hill. So if to fill up his days since 1885. This could be just one of its multiple pathways. Forgotten in time, the muffled silence of the protagonists. But now begins the journey that speaks louder than silence ...
Finally we reached the top. My Japanese friend breath of relief.
- 'A machine that old can not be secure,' says with a nervously laugh. I shrug, and carefully put a black scarf around her almond eyes.
- 'It's to stimulate your curiosity. " Packaged in a faint breeze, drive her to the Belvedere of San Pedro de Alcantara. One of the many gateways to the Bairro Alto. Without delay, I retreat the scarf of her eyes.
- "Now yes, Rina, you can look, feel, touch. Love Lisbon! I resave. With an almost childlike curiosity, I await your response. The contagious smile does not leave room for doubt.
- "Oh Anna, what a fantastic view. The Castle of St. George, Grace and the Tagus river, so big, it seems the Sea. " Only reason I can give. The beautiful houses painted bright colors. Serenity mirrored the blue sky. The intense green of the leafy trees dotted the skyline. The golden sun, weary after another day of life, slowly falling asleep in the water. One evening unforgettable. The sour taste of my orange contrasts beautifully with the sweetness of vanilla that lingers in the air. It comes from the 'very fresh' cakes sold in the corner booth.
Eternal memory. The night has just been born. Thru fascinating cobblestone streets,we let us be guided by the glow of the moon. It's hard to believe the Bairro Alto, built in the late sixteenth century, was originally occupied by the rich who moved from Alfama.
- "Here there are so many bars and restaurants. I'm starving. I want to eat ssqddsss "Rina sighed, with its peculiar pronunciation. Sketch a smile from ear to ear.
- 'Okay, let's go eat squid. I know a good restaurant not far from here. "
The smell of the flowers on the balconies is suddenly replaced by the intense aroma of stuffed squid. Delicious and steaming. To complete the meal, red wine from Alentejo.
A veritable explosion of fruit, soft as velvet, takes possession of my mouth slowly. I'm in paradise!
Between laughs, listen to guitar chords. And a voice drunk with emotion that grabs the senses. Lisbon Music. Fado. Song of Longing that says who knows, goes back to the chants of the Moors.
- "It is true that Fado means fate"? Rina asks curiously.
- "Yes, yes', I confirm.
- "So is your Lisbon Fado?

Lisbon is my Fado ... As I repeat this magic phrase, vaporize me in the past. Embark on a journey of endless memories. Rediscover the Castle of Sao Jorge, a former royal residence - the majestic tails of peacocks, its people, faithful, always fascinate me. The modern Lisbon, framed in Nations Park, scene of many cultural activities - other looks over the Tagus. The stunning Museum of Tiles, the convent of Madre de Deus, founded in 1509 by D. Leonor, widow of D. John II. Here you can find peace. The Jeronimos Monastery, the height of Architecture Manuelina ordered by D. Manuel I, after the arrival of Vasco da Gama. It makes me feel proud to be Portuguese. The Tower of Belem, of course. Unquestionable symbol of Discovery. The Museum of Ancient Art. This is the palace of the seventeenth century, also known as Green Museum of Windows, which I love for art ... Can continue for months. Oh, capital of Portugal, your immense history will endure!
Lisbon, my fado. Memories forever. The affectious laugh of Mr. Adozinda kiosk that I extend the 'public' newspaper every morning. The cheerful voice of Mr. Fernando, who prepares daily fondly my coffee. White light and one that is reflected in my window and lit me up with happiness. Mild nights of spring in Chiado, downtown, Crown Prince. The laughter loose after a glass of cherry in Cais do Sodré. The sharp cry of friends in the lap after another night without direction. Among the gilt mirrors coffee 'The Brazilian' where I write and rewrite about everything and nothing. Of loves lost and found. Lisbon, my bride. You're piece of me!
'Ana AAAAAna '. Rina's voice brings me back to reality.
"We are sitting here for centuries. Let's pay "?
Back to the cobblestone streets, we start the conquest of light and dreams of adventure sailors. The journey continues. It's always too early to contemplate this city. Lisbon, after one night, weeks, even months, is an unfinished poem. Uncover your Destiny, win your love takes a lifetime

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