Cascais Continued

Welcome to part II of the photos to follow up from the previous post. The town of Cascais, west of Lisbon and home to the just-about-Westernmost part of Europe.

A little something for the ladies.

Also, the signs.

For Dad.

Cascais

A short 30-minute train ride from central Lisbon - mostly along the river and the coast - takes you to Cascais, a small resort town full of pastry shops, clothing and jewellery stores, restaurants and enough photo ops to burn your memory card.

It was an unbelievable afternoon, crystal clear and 24 degrees. One of those days in paradise that you envision when you set out to travel.

With the train (a mere 3.50Eur round-trip) from Cais do Sodre station to Cascais stopping pretty much right on the small but cozy beach, a long promenade that runs for many kilometers along a rocky coast just to the west, ancient castles and fortresses all around and an improbably perfect park nearby, it made for a memorable day.

There are hundreds of spots to sit amid almost total silence and stare out at a huge ocean, with small trails leading from the sidewalk to any rock to call your own.

So, a new place to add to my list of favorites. And definitely worth a day trip when you come to Lisbon

Below are about half the photos, with more coming in the next day or two.

This could be your daily commute

One of the main streets of Cascais

Belem Thang

(Note: the title makes sense once you learn that Belem is pronounced "buh-laing" in Portuguese)

Below, a few images taken on a nice day in Belem, just a few minutes west of the city center of Lisbon. It is home to a number of museums, cultural centers, and restaurants, all giving way to a ton of green space and gardens before lining the Tagus as it empties into the Atlantic ocean.

The insides of the above cultural spots are on the to-do list - I'm still waiting for a rainy day though...

Lessons Learned

As the serene vantage point from my desk encourages more reflection, some deep (and not so deep) thoughts after one full year away from the native country.

I've learned:

• Big cities are where it's at. Hence the name of the blog, I suppose. One could spend a lifetime in a place like Paris, Barcelona or New York and always be discovering something new, something (or someone) tasty, or something inspiring. The downsides are of course noise and crowdedness.

Yes, as a newcomer, you can feel at times as anonymous and unwelcome as a fart on an airplane. But normally, both - the feeling and the flatulence - pass quickly enough.

• That I have an irrational, undefinable hatred for the actor Paul Rudd (and his inexplicable success) that dates back to his days on Friends and that transcends international borders.

Nemesis

• To let go of setbacks much quicker. Staying put for years in the same place causes us to dwell on so much useless nonsense. I think this may be out of sheer boredom. But after even a few months of travel, you begin to let many daily inconveniences and indignities slide, even the seemingly big ones.

• The local news back home (wherever home is) really never changes. It is therefore perhaps best to not pay so much daily attention to it and free the mind for more enjoyable and creative things.

• There are few things in the world as meaningless and useless as a "Maybe" reply to a Facebook event invitation.

• Fewer Europeans seem to have the angst to get away - really get away long-term - from their current lives than North Americans.

I am still analyzing this one - perhaps the more socialist leanings here (permanent job contracts, larger middle class, more of a social safety net, more vacation days) make them more comfortable, and by extension creates less of an emphasis on status. Perhaps it's the greater offering of things to do/see/learn nearby. Perhaps it's the beer talking. But there is an overall greater satisfaction here that is quite noticeable.

• Unless it's the World Cup, soccer (football) is still boring.

• Mobility is key to happiness in a new city - a combination of knowing your way around and having a bike/car/scooter handy if your feet aren't close to the spots you want to be. Lack of mobility, thus, is a major dissatisfier.

• The world needs to adopt a sole standard for telling time. Consider, say 7:30. This is "Seven-thirty" to many North Americans; "Half-eight" to the Dutch; "Half-seven" to the British, and so on. To convolute things further, a common Dutch way to say 10:25 is "five before half-eleven." We need to come together on this one, world.

As Alain de Botton (no, I'm not his agent - I just think he is the best writer I've ever read) says in "The Art of Travel": "... the domestic setting keeps us tethered to the person we are in ordinary life, who may not be who we essentially are."

I think it accomplishes this in a number of ways, not least of which is that it frees us from our all-too-familiar surroundings and traps, thereby letting us see things about ourselves more clearly.

Sights of Lisbon

As my health and energy continue to be about as consistent as a Portuguese toilet, the urge to explore this great little city (and great little people) is lower than normal.

That said, a walk around the neighbourhood of Graca still provides some good photo opportunities and hopefully provides the reader with an idea of what this city looks like in one of its many small neighbourhoods. It's about 10 minutes by bus, scooter or car to the old city center called Rossio, where some of these other photos were taken.

On many sidewalks it's single-file only

The city is filled with lookouts, vantage points to relax, read, or have a drink

Travel Inspiration

As part of the Lonely Planet Blogsherpa team, I recently contributed to a "Blog Carnival", where a number of sherpas write about their experiences regarding a particular place or topic.

This current carnival simply asked the LP sherpas: What is your favorite place on earth?

The answers were diverse, well-written, and very inspiring.

If you want to take a virtual trip and also make some mental "must go there" notes along the way, check out the entry from our host at Sophie's World.

Lisbon, Ink.

My first outing in the new town? Visiting a tattoo festival in Lisbon. As one does.

The 6th annual Lisbon Tattoo & Rock Festival wasn't in some gritty, urban enclave however. It was in a carpeted, sterile conference center, with renowned international and local tattoo artists each in their respective booths. Next week, the exact same setting could see a dental trade show or a book fair.

My inner tattoo yearnings, thus far unrealized, were itching though. These guys (and girls) were pros. Not one of the people getting inked were grimacing at all, despite some pretty sensitive areas getting the needle. I was tempted to go full sleeve, or maybe with a giant back tattoo.

But what to get? What symbols would resonate, as adequate lifelong representations of my life? A football, perhaps. A pen, a beach, an overly sensitive stomach, or maybe a giant head portrait of Oprah Winfrey? It was all too much to contemplate, so I passed.

A beer for 1.50Eur and a slow photo-taking stroll around the area seemed to suffice for now...

Amid skulls, skin, and serpents, a somewhat incongruous kid's area