Written by:
Kris Scott Marti
Photographer:
Kris Scott Marti
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this Issue of Curve:
11.4
After spending a hundred years in California, my family finally got me, the lone out lesbian, to serve as our first unofficial ambassador back to the motherland — Portugal. When I stepped off the plane into the November Lisbon sunshine, I felt my heart swell in my chest and squeeze the air out of my lungs like a great big bear hug.
Portugal’s deep roots extend back through Moorish invasions, Roman conquerors, Greeks, Celts and prehistoric peoples. We’re talking ancient history and that is an important perspective to keep since the cab ride into Lisbon looks disappointingly ghetto at first.
The disappointment wears off quickly when the English-speaking cabbie (lots of Portuguese speak English these days) drops us off at the charming Elevador da Glória, which is something like a small cable car, for our ride up the hill to the Bairro Alto.
My girlfriend and I decided to stay at a pensão because they are cheap. We really liked the Pensão Globo in the Bairro Alto because it was clean and our room came with private balconies and a tiny private bathroom. And it’s on a side street, so it was quiet when we were ready to go to our comfy bed after a night of carousing at the local bars and fado nightclubs. But, since cabs are so inexpensive in Lisbon and the main areas of town are so close, it wouldn’t have been unreasonable or super-costly to stay at a five-star hotel, either.
Lisbon is often compared to San Francisco. Being from San Francisco, I didn’t see the resemblance at first. The streets are narrow and most are cobbled. The sounds of children playing spill out onto the street from houses covered in elaborate patterns of azulejos (painted tile).
Even in November, the air is warm and moist, like a kiss. A castle crouches over the city on a peak. There are no rainbow flags anywhere.
Then, as we strolled over a hill towards the waterfront, it appeared like a hallucination — the Golden Gate Bridge, hovering in the morning mist. Combine this major icon with outdoor cafés, friendly locals, and steep streets, and the resemblance becomes much clearer.
Lisbon is an archetypal European city: charming, old, and built to a very human scale. And it is stuffed full of fabulous food and drinks! From groovy little beatnik bars like Bar Artis to the snooty but delicious Fidalgo to bracing cups of espresso and pastel de nata at the famously rude A Brasileira, it’s all good.
Lesbians are not as easy to find in Lisbon. We did spot a little group of lesbians on the street one afternoon, and I was very tempted to turn secret agent and follow them to find out where they hang out, but my girlfriend insisted she had food poisoning and had to go back to our room.
There are no gay or lesbian or bi or tranny bookstores in Lisbon. I also couldn’t find a gay paper that I could understand. The one lesbian bar I had heard of was no longer in business. However, the city does have a Pride festival in the summer and they held their first parade last year. Also, there is a gay/lesbian center, so we deduced there had to be dykes somewhere!
Luckily, my contacts pulled through at the last minute and tipped me off to the gay bars where the ladies mingle after midnight. Trumps is a standard gay bar with a dance floor that comes highly recommended by my friend Ana for hot girl action. Lux, on the other hand, is a European superclub where the beautiful and the famous mix it up with sexy lesbians on three floors overlooking the river.
Since nobody goes out before midnight, there is plenty of time to do tourist stuff and squeeze in a disco nap. Unfortunately, while I was there the Convento do Carmel and the tiny archeology museum were closed, but the fabulous Conceicao Velha was open. This cathedral is done in Manueline style, Portugal’s own over-the-top decorative contribution to the world. The Chiado, Lisbon’s contemporary art museum, is also very close to the city center. When all else fails, visit the prestigious Instituto do Vinho and order some Port in a swanky ski-lodge atmosphere.
Before heading out to the airport I dragged my girlfriend into Manuel Tavares to pick up chorizo and linguica. The store smelled like Christmas morning at my grandparents’ house. With my precious sausage and lots of bottles of port from the helpful guys at Napoleão, I left Portugal knowing it wouldn’t be a hundred years before I returned.
IF YOU GO:
A visit to Sintra from Lisbon is an absolute must. It is only an hour away from Rossio station by train and the train ticket costs less than a dollar, so you can’t afford not to take the trip. Sintra is one of the most gorgeous places I’ve been in Europe — there are castles, convents, botanical gardens, and a palace that appears to have two gigantic white breasts.
In Sintra, there is a great cheap dive where you can have a fabulous feast. It’s called Alcobaca, and it’s located just across the street from the aforementioned busty palace. Look for a window display of meats and fish. The place looks horrible on the outside, but it’s delicious on the inside. Lots of paella-type fresh seafood dishes, yummy salad, good wine, fresh bread and singing Greek tourists. Plus, the waitress looks just like my aunt.
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