Lisbon, From Nicola to the Elevator

A café that does not invite. That is Nicola. It does not invite because you are invited in by guide books and interesting architecture. The place looks so “on the beaten trail” that off the beaten trail types might give it a miss.

I, however, entered. My plan was not to tell anyone I'd been there. I just needed to meet Glen some place we both remembered.

When I got there he had already arrived - tucking into a croissant and tucking a heavy tome into his satchel. The clientelle was not what I had expected, well, inside anyway. Mostly old men dressed unnecessarily in suits, reading newspapers from cover to cover. They ordered with a wave of the hand to the waitress in black and white uniform.

Having worn each other out talking too much, we went up the Elevador de Santa Justa to check out the view. Worth it I must say. This 45 metre tall on-the-street elevator lifts the lazy from the Baixa to the Alto. Everyone took pictures of the same thing and filed them away for their “trip to Lisbon” file. The elevator’s motor was built in 1907 in London, all moving parts were lovingly greased, all the rest of it was shone to a dull green shine. The mechanic looked out over the city with a cigarette in his hand. Another day at work for him, perhaps thinking about the football tonight, or last night, or whatever.

Then over we went to Alto, the area on the hill where the coolest cafés and restaurants are. Pasted posters cover the walls of the buildings. They are pasted indescriminately over mosaic, plaster or paint. They advertise fado and film festivals. They cover grafitti and get torn down tomorrow by the gent who put them up yesterday.

It is evening now and time for food and drink. I think I’ll kick back for a while.