Expanding the Circle

In the morning I visited St. Anthony’s again, captured a photo, and bought souvenir pendants (St. Anthony, tau) for myself at the gift shop. Visiting the birthplace of my confirmation saint was a bucket list item, so I felt I should have some material memento.

Then I decided to walk around the eastern end of Lisbon a bit further than I had before. At least I think it’s east…it’s…well, THAT way.

The Pillory of Lisbon, in the main square of Lisbon. This one replaced the one destroyed by the massive earthquake in 1755. The only known execution here (1790) was a cadet who was executed for murdering his brother.

Sometimes I think we should bring back pillories. Then I remember that maybe I would end up in one myself, which suddenly snaps me back into “do unto others” mode.

In my efforts to try and remain faithful to my vegan lifestyle when I travel (I’m not always very good at it and sometimes flip to vegetarian, or even pescatarian on rare occasion), I cruised around looking for this shop that sells vegan pastel de nata. It was good!

OK, I ain’t gonna lie. In full disclosure the non-vegan, fresh, warm pastel de nata are far superior. Maybe if I got these fresh from the oven? But if you are a vegan who has better self-discipline than me in faraway places, and you really want to try pastel de nata, this will get you pretty close.

And here’s a slideshow of my walk around the main plaza and a nearby park…

My son’s birthday. Also the date of a famous battle against the French.
This is where I ate a super cheap vegan lunch on a park bench while talking to a Moroccan man named Mohammed. He just moved here and works for a company that sells lights. We chatted for about 30 minutes in French. (Disclaimer, I referred to Google Translate when necessary.) Also, you can drink beer in public parks in Portugal…thankfully.

I walked along the water’s edge and stopped to have a cocktail at a seaside bar. It was a looooooong wait for a server and I almost wondered if I were being intentionally ignored until someone finally came over. At the next table was an older Portuguese man reading a newspaper. He complained more than once to waitstaff about the volume of the music, to the barely-contained giggles of the teenagers at surrounding tables. I would have tried to sneak a photo of him because he was so intriguing, but he seemed like an oldtimer and a local and not one to countenance tomfoolery.