Yellow bus

This was my third visit to Lisbon, but I can only now say that I've really seen the city. My previous visits had been brief and, like many tourists on short visits, I stuck mostly to the Baixa and the two neighbouring hills, one on each side.

But this time I decided to stay three full days and nights to give myself time to explore the city properly.  I'm not much of a museum buff, but I love walking around getting the feel of a city.  So the logical extension was to take a guided tour.  Actually, I took three.

Yellow Bus

Several companies offer tours of the city; I chose the Yellow Bus as their package includes several different tours as well as unlimited access to the city's public bus and tram network.  Also included is the Santa Justa lift and two funicular lines.  The deal I took was €25 for 48 hours unlimited access to the various services; this means you can combine the tours as you please, hopping on and off when it suits you.

The option I took was the "Lisbon Premium 4-in-1 Tour" which covers the obligatory "Hills Tour" in an electric tram as well as the open-top tours of the city, historic and modern.

I now have a better impression of what Lisbon is: a beautiful, cosmopolitan, vibrant, varied, warm, welcoming, historic and modern city.

Baixa to Bairro Alto

So you're in the Baixa and you want to get to the Bairro Alto, high up on the hill?  You have a couple of options: walk and sweat as you climb the hill that puts Montmartre in the shade; fight your way on to a packed tram.

Or you could take the metro station route.  Yes, the station, not the actual train.  The main entrance to Baixa-Chiado station is on the centre-city plain, but the "back door" is way up on Largo do Chiado, reached by a series of escalators.

No sweat.

Portougesh

I'm not sure I'd ever be able to learn Portuguese.

The vocabulary is close to Spanish and a bit further removed from French – the two foreign languages I know, though to differing degrees – so I can work some things out when I read them.  But the sounds are very difficult.

I asked the hotel reception where a particular establishment was and was told "Shta-ou-ra-dor-esh." Could you spell that please? Restauradores.

I give up.

Public hospital in Spain

I recently had the misfortune to be sick during my holiday in Spain. It seemed like a standard gastro infection, but when the symptoms made no sign of clearing after a visit to a doctor and several days of medication, I ended up going to the emergency department of the Hospital del Henares in Coslada, in the suburbs of Madrid.

I was seen by triage nurses very quickly and had blood samples and x-rays taken within about an hour of arrival.  When the doctors examined me they decided to keep me overnight for observation.  They eventually kept me a second night and released me on Friday afternoon.  No need for gory details.

The hospital is bright, clean and modern.  Built in 2007, it has its own metro station on the specially-extended eastern portion of Line 7.  The staff are all very pleasant and efficient and some made a special effort to speak English with me as my medical vocabulary is not very good in Spanish.  And they provide a high quality – free! – wifi service.

As I was leaving I asked "where do I pay?" I was told there was no payment required; this is a public hospital, not a profit-making business.

Long may it last!  But alas it won't.  As in many countries, the very notion of public service is being questioned.  The public health system in Spain is going to be privatised so that some already rich companies can make a profit out of sick people.

It won't change without a fight, however.  All over the hospital there are hand-made signs saying things like "Health is a right"; "Defend our public hospital, don't sell it"; "Profit-making health companies, keep out!"  I wish them the best in the struggle.

Public health systems are for curing people, not for making a profit.  It should stay that way.

Nothing to report

Why the recent lack of activity?  Well, two reasons:

1. nothing exciting happening (apart from a visit to a very nice spa yesterday);
2. I've been sick for a few days (which mostly explains 1 above).

No details here.

Normal reporting will resume shortly.

Stay tuned!

Christmas in August

Religious Muslims go through a rough time during the month of Ramadan. They do not eat or drink – not even water – between sunrise and sunset. Exceptions are allowed for the elderly, the very young, sick people and pregnant women. As the Islamic calendar is lunar, Ramadan is a moveable feast; it gets earlier by a few days every year. This means it's going to be even more difficult next year as the days will be longer.

When the long month of fasting is over, the celebrations of Eid al-Fitr – the end of the fast – begin. The exact timing depends on the local clerical authorities' observations of the new crescent moon, so it does not necessarily fall on the same day in every country.  This year, for example, it fell on 8 August in France, but the next day in Morocco.

Eid al-Fitr is a big family occasion and everyone dresses in their very best.  As I left Tangier on Friday morning, seeing excited children running around in their new clothes, adults embracing each other, everyone smiling, it really did look like Christmas Day.

Except it was 36°C.

A tale of two dinners

Part 1 – Down market

My first ever meal in Africa! Just outside the Medina of Tangier, a small cheap-and-cheerful terrace restaurant with lots of locals and a few tourists including yours truly. I was put at a table with someone I didn't know as there wasn't room for the luxury of a whole table just for me. The service was amateur, even sloppy: I had to ask several times for a glass to go with the bottle of water; then my neighbour dragged one of the waiters over and said something in Arabic, pointing at me, and a moment later the waiter brought me a proper fork to replace the dessert-sized one he had originally given me.

The meal consisted of a huge tomato and onion salad, followed by a plate of mixed grilled fish (I'm not good at fish names), a side dish of fried potatoes and a small dish of peppers. My neighbour understood from my demeanour that something wasn't right with the fries – they were cold – and barked at the waiter who immediately ran over with a plate of fresh, piping hot fries and an apology (I presume). 

The bill came to 60 dirhams (let's call it €6).

Part 2 – Up market

While out and about in the "new" town the next day, I spotted a fairly classy joint where I had a couple of G&Ts – yes, during Ramadan – to take the edge off the thirst. I liked the place so I decided to go back there for dinner that evening.

The service was impeccable! Staff dressed in traditional costume, a wine waiter to advise me on the best option for each dish, live traditional music (very discreet). The food was acceptable, but nothing special, and it cost several times what I had paid for the previous night's fare.

Epilogue

I've decided which one I'll go back to on my next trip to Tangier.