9-Conde Nast Traveler - Steve King

This page, clockwise: courtyard at
Hotel Valverde; A Cevicheria;
statuette at Pousada de Lisboa;
lounge at Valverde; the Palácio
Belmonte café; the 16th-century
Casa dos Bicos; wall art at Casa
Independente; room at Valverde;
toy plane at A Vida Portuguesa;
chair at Valverde. Opposite,
clockwise from top left: steps at
Mercado da Ribeira; Mini Bar;
bar at Pestana Palace; designs at
Embaixada, and fairground symbol;
bikes at Casa Independente; detail
at Valverde; The Independente
lobby; Bica do Sapato restaurant
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WORDS BY STEVE KING
PHOTOGRAPHS BY MATTHEW BUCK
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EVEN FOR A CITY BUILT ON SEVEN HILLS, LISBON
HAS HAD MORE THAN ITS FAIR SHARE OF UPS AND
DOWNS. LATELY, THOUGH, IT’S BEEN NOTHING BUT
SUNSHINE AND SEA BREEZES. NOW THE REST OF THE
WORLD IS TURNING UP TO DISCOVER ONE OF
EUROPE’S OLDEST AND MOST BEAUTIFUL CITIES AS
IT RIDES A HIGH TIDE OF CREATIVITY AND OPTIMISM
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his city glows. you walk on light. This isn’t a figure of speech. It’s a matter
of fact, of science. The seven hills on which the city sits form a vast natural amphitheatre
that collects and reflects light. This amphitheatre is open at one end, where it meets the
broad estuary of the Tagus, which acts as a huge mirror, reflecting still more light. The pale
stone buildings, many painted yellow, pink or ochre, send the light bouncing around the
hills; innumerable windows redirect it into the deepest and narrowest of alleys, so that even
the shadows seem radiant, reverberant. Above, the prevailing northerly winds disperse
clouds and increase visibility. Below, the intricately patterned limestone pavements, calçada
portugeusa, cause the light to rise from the ground as well as from the water.
It’s the combination of these various factors – geographical, topographical, material
and meteorological – that give Lisbon its otherworldly luminosity and make it unique
among European cities.
The attitude here is different too. You find none of Berlin’s angst or Paris’s hauteur
or Rome’s braggadocio. Instead, a modesty that borders on reticence, a wistful humour
tinged with melancholy. (Note that the less-than-modest and not obviously reticent José
Mourinho, perhaps the most famous living Portuguese outside Portugal, is from Setúbal,
not Lisbon, and should be understood as exceptional in any case.) You see it in people’s
eyes and hear it in their music, their poetry. The word saudade is sometimes mentioned
in this connection. It’s impossible to translate. It refers to a bittersweet kind of longing,
although it can also refer to a premonition of future loss, nostalgia for something that
hasn’t happened yet. The loss may be personal – lost love, most likely – or collective –
an apprehension of the distant but unforgotten glory of the nation as a whole.
Distant but unforgotten glory is something of a Portuguese speciality. The explorers
who set sail from Lisbon during the Age of Discovery – principally during the 15th and
16th centuries – were among the greatest seafarers the world has ever known. ‘O mar
sem fim é português,’ as Fernando Pessoa splendidly put it: ‘The endless sea is Portuguese.’
And so, for a while, it was – along with all the spoils that the endless sea afforded. If
you’re curious about what that order of imperial success could buy, pay a visit to the
Jerónimos Monastery, where Vasco da Gama is buried among mad stony flourishes in
the Manueline style; or to the Chapel of St John the Baptist in the Church of São
Roque, a baroque hymn in marble, amethyst, alabaster, ivory, porphyry and lapis lazuli,
and reputedly the most expensive – not to say ostentatious – chapel ever constructed.
This was a very high point from which to fall. And in Lisbon’s case, the fall, when it
came, was dreadful. The Great Earthquake of 1755 reduced 80 per cent of the city to
rubble. The shock was felt as far away as Brazil. The terrible fires that followed were
extinguished by a tsunami. Afterwards the Portuguese king refused to live within stone
walls. He moved into a tent while his prime minister, the Marquess of Pombal, rebuilt
the capital in a style widely admired by architects for its resistance to seismic disturbance
and by everybody else for its exquisite, pared-down elegance.
Lately Portugal has entered a second Age of Discovery – only this time the traffic is
flowing in the opposite direction, as travellers from all corners of the globe make their
way over land and sea to discover Portugal, and Lisbon in particular.
When I first came to Lisbon in my late teens I was struck not so much by the light as
by the lettering. Lisbon is a living museum of fonts, a safari park of typographic styles,
in paint, in neon, etched in glass, carved in stone, on signs and storefronts and trams,
Right, from top: Mag Kiosk in the LX Factory creative space; the music room at Palácio
Belmonte; vintage typewriter at The Independente hotel; painted water tower at LX Factory,
beneath the Ponte 25 de Abril suspension bridge. Opposite, the pool at Hotel Valverde
IT ISN’T A BRANDED
CITY. THE QUIRKY,
THE INDEPENDENT,
THE FAMILY-RUN ARE
STILL THE NORM
NOT THE EXCEPTION
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The café in the Wish design
shop at LX Factory and,
opposite, Café na Fábrica
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everywhere. The country’s political and economic difficulties during the 20th and early
21st century – dictatorship followed by the doldrums followed by near-bankruptcy –
meant that, commercially, little changed at street level. The international names didn’t
come, or not until very recently. So Lisbon isn’t a ‘branded’ city in the way we’ve become
used to. The quirky, the independent, the family-run is still the norm, not yet the exception.
The writing that was on the wall 20, 50, 100 years ago is still on the wall. ‘Reading’ Lisbon
is one of the delights of spending time here, even if you don’t speak the language.
Hence the sense you get of drifting effortlessly through layers of history. This impression
isn’t limited to one part of the city. You feel it wherever you go. Suppose you were to
pause for a moment to refresh yourself with a sip of ginjinha, a cherry liqueur, at one
of the atmospheric, hole-in-the-wall bars around Rossio station that dispense the stuff
(and nothing else) for about a euro a shot. Having greeted the nonagenarian regulars
and sprightly bartender – a whippersnapper in his sixties – you might find yourself
glancing across the street at the entrance to a hip new graphic-design studio or hi-tech
start-up outfit. Doing your best not to turn an ankle on the ginjinha-cherry stones
that have been cast like so many ball bearings onto the footpath outside, you might
step further into the street and extend your gaze towards the nearby square, which is
dominated by a towering statue of Dom Pedro IV. (Though some say it actually
represents Emperor Maximilian of Mexico, who looked a little like Pedro. Maximilian
was executed by firing squad soon after the statue was completed; no longer needed,
it was supposedly sold on to Lisbon at a knock-down price.) It’s overlooked from a
hilltop by a severe scowl of Moorish fortifications, which were built over existing Roman
ramparts. Which were erected on the site where, some 3,000 years ago, pre-Celtic
peoples – the forebears, no doubt, of the cherry-stone-chuckers whom you greeted
at the ginjinha bar just a few minutes ago – pitched their rudimentary encampments.
Lisbon is like that. I once met the claimant to the Portuguese throne. Portugal
became a republic in 1910 but Dom Duarte continues to fly the flag for the House of
Bragança, which had ruled until then. With his proud bearing and well-tended moustache,
LISBON IS A LIVING MUSEUM OF FONTS,
A SAFARI PARK OF TYPOGRAPHIC STYLES,
IN PAINT, IN NEON, ETCHED IN GLASS
he reminded me of William Faulkner. With his polite but firm insistence on his family’s
role in the life of the nation, he reminded me, too, of Faulkner’s observation that, to
certain people in certain places, the past is never dead – it’s not even past.
Be that as it may, there is plenty happening in the present. New bars, restaurants,
boutiques, clubs, galleries and hotels are multiplying at a dizzying rate. Parts of town
that five or 10 years ago were no-go areas, or at least areas to which you had no obvious
reason to go, have been reclaimed and reinvented. The entire city is thronging with
visitors bearing pleasantly baffled expressions that seem to say: ‘Awesome. Who knew?’
Which must, I suppose, be an odd spectacle for those old enough to remember
the lean years when nobody paid Lisbon any attention at all. During my most recent
visit this past summer I popped into a shop called A Vida Portuguesa, which sells
traditional bits and bobs. I commented on the tremendous charm of the place and
then suggested that this must be something that only a foreigner would say. The assistant
corrected me. No, she said. Elderly Portuguese who have heard about the shop will
sometimes burst into tears of joy at the sight of simple things – a particular kind of
toothpaste, a certain style of ruled exercise book – that they remember from their
childhood but thought had ceased to exist. Saudade sorted.
I’ve been coming to Lisbon for nearly a quarter of a century. I honestly don’t
know what took the rest of the world so long. I can’t think of another city that more
richly deserves the attention. Long may Lisbon’s moment last. Long may it see its
extraordinary beauty mirrored in the eyes of others. Long may it rejoice, in its own
modest way, in its own inimitable glow.
Right, from top: Wish design store at LX Factory; dining room at The Independente, and a design
detail; the pool at Palácio Belmonte. Opposite, clockwise from top left: room at The Independente;
A Vida Portuguesa; café at Palácio Belmonte; LX Factory design; staircase at Embaixada; stairwell
at Hotel Valverde; hams at Wish; LX Factory street art; a townhouse; suite at Pestana Palace
LISBON: INTO THE LIGHT
WHERE TO STAY
Clever use of touchy-feely textiles, vintage and contemporary artworks and restored mid-20thcentury furniture keeps things agreeably mixed up at Hotel Valverde (doubles from about £155).
It’s dark, hushed and discreet yet smiling and unstuffy, with sunshine by the pool and terrace
rather than on the roof, as is the more typical Lisbon way. Pousada de Lisboa (doubles from about
£160) is an impressive conversion of a vast Pombaline pile on the Praça do Comércio. The Baixa
location couldn’t be better, and the rooms closest to the square have epic views. Its sibling,
Pestana Palace (doubles from about £170), is lusciousness itself – once slightly out of the way, it’s
now convenient for the buzzing LX Market and Village Underground (see below). The Independente
(doubles from about £65), between the sleepless Bairro Alto and the up-and-coming Príncipe Real,
is great fun. Partly a hostel, it’s not going to be for everyone, but it’s witty and shabby-chic-endearing
and the suites are excellent by any standards. The Bairro Alto Hotel (doubles from about £190)
kick-started the Lisbon boutique-hotel scene. It’s 15 years old now but still going gangbusters.
Ask for room 401 – not the biggest, but it has a weird kind of Lisbon feng shui that just makes it
right. Palácio Belmonte (doubles from about £340), hard by the Castelo de São Jorge, is a one-off,
a marvel. Its 11 gigantic suites are both homely and impossibly grand, several of them with staggering
views. The nearby Santiago de Alfama (doubles from about £125) is the newest five-star hotel in
the city, in the cobbled street where Christopher Columbus got married. Palácio Ramalhete
(doubles from about £135), opposite the Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga, is the pick of the city’s
many little converted palácios – immaculate, with an unexpected, lushly planted courtyard.
WHERE TO EAT
There are probably more top-notch restaurants in Lisbon today than there are ways to prepare
salt cod. Chef José Avillez is the poster-boy – he looks a bit like Jesus, which is how foodies think
of him. Two-Michelin-starred Belcanto is the headquarters of his constantly expanding culinary
empire, but don’t hesitate to raid his Mini Bar either. Insólito, upstairs at The Independente,
does traditional Portuguese with untraditional twists, and feats of mixology are performed at the
bar beneath a dangerous tangle of chandeliers. A Fábrica de Santiago, at the Santiago de
Alfama hotel, is lovely inside – lovelier still at a table in the street outside. A Cevicheria, in newly
fashionable Príncipe Real, has a kitchen supervised by a giant octopus and punters queuing up
round the block; and Tabik has Nuno Mendes’ vote as the Next Big Thing. Bica do Sapato
changed the way people think about Lisbon’s previously unloved riverside. It’s still whip-smart,
though its views across the water can disappear suddenly with the arrival of a multi-storey
cruise liner. The Mercado da Ribeira, an historic market turned food hall, has pop-up-style
outposts of several of the city’s most popular restaurants, and a cult following.
WHERE TO DRINK
Terraço BA at the Bairro Alto Hotel is the original and still among the best of the city’s gazillions
of rooftop bars. Park, on top of a car park just around the corner, gives the now familiar formula
an amusing tweak. O Bom O Mau e O Vilão is a laid-back, unfussy cocktail joint in happening
Cais do Sodré. It’s just as popular, if less visually arresting, than its next-door neighbour Pensão
Amor, which despite being decorated with vintage pornography manages not (quite) to lose its aura
of good clean fun. If you can find it, Casa Independente looks like an exceptionally hip thrift shop
and is quiet and peaceful for a coffee in the afternoon, better for booze and a boogaloo in the evening.
WHERE TO SHOP
A Vida Portuguesa is packed with retro knick-knacks in bright, spirit-lifting packaging. Possibly
the only other place that outdoes it is the celebrated Conserveira de Lisboa, which exists solely
to meet your tinned-sardine needs. Indeed, Lisbon has a number of shops that only sell one thing:
Caza das Vellas Loreto has been making candles since 1789; Luvaria Ulisses stocks nothing but
gloves; and Pelcor reveals how, ever since the advent of the screw-cap wine bottle, making stuff
other than corks out of cork has become a big deal. By contrast, there is endless variety at the LX
Factory, in the shadow of the Ponte 25 de Abril, packed with cafés, bars and shops. It faces stiff
competition from the Village Underground, which is smaller but cooler and more seriously artsy,
and, across town, from Embaixada, where Portuguese designs are displayed in a former palácio.
GETTING HERE
Original Travel (+44 20 3740 7598; originaltravel.co.uk) offers four nights in Lisbon from £560
per person, based on two sharing, staying at the Hotel Valverde, including flights and transfers.
Left, from top: hanging out at Casa Independente; retro packaging at A Vida Portuguesa; Casa
Independente interior; café detail at Palácio Belmonte. Opposite, the Hotel Valverde restaurant
YOU FIND NONE OF
BERLIN'S ANGST,
PARIS'S HAUTEUR
OR ROME'S
BRAGGADOCIO
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