Silent Night…

(Lisboa)

They say, Portugal draws into itself on Christmas. Shops stay closed, tourism on hold… And on the morning of 24th, the day turned warm and sunny in Mação. The rain clouds that had hung over the town took the day off. Definitely, there was not much Christmas in the air. By mid- afternoon, I had checked into a hostel near the Baixa Chiado metro station in Lisbon. For, who wants to feel lonely on the Christmas eve.

Miguel of the hostel warned me of starvation in the streets of Lisbon that night. So I signed up for the hostel dinner and set off to take the tram 28 E armed with a map and Miguel’s explicit instructions to get lost in the streets of Alfama. Unlike the interior districts of Portugal, Lisbon is well connected through a network of buses, metros trams and ferries.Trams were in operation in Lisbon from as far back as 1873. The horse drawn affairs of the bygone days have given way to yellow electric carriages. The last major restructuring took place in the 1990 s.

The carriage slowly made its way up through the narrow cobbled streets. At Graca, the driver kindly explained to me that it was as far as the tram would go and it would be convenient if I get out. So I decided to trace the tram line back on foot.

Alfama is the oldest district in Lisbon spreading from the castle of Lisbon to river Tejo. The name dates back to the Moorish times (Al- hamma), denoting baths. Alfama has retreated from its Moorish glory to be one of the poorest districts in Lisbon now. The streets of Alfama winds up and down in rather steep slopes and often you have to close your umbrella to allow a passing tram. I heard the frustrated tram driver yell her way through the cars that inched out of the side-streets unexpectedly. The streets are lined by old three storied structures that now house shops and restaurants (which were of course closed on the day!). By five o clock in the evening I was looking at Alfama from the Porta do sol (Gateway of the sun) as it sloped down to touch the banks of Tagus. Tagus, almost as expansive and alive as the ocean beyond. Alfama from here was a cluster of red roofs and white walls, so closely packed that the streets below are scarcely revealed.

I stepped into the dim lights of the Sè cathedral and saw the tableau of the divine birth set up there. At one of those rare coffee shops that was open, the owner told me of the choir where he was to sing at the night service. It’s a great thing to know a bit of the language. How else could I have made sense of anything the man said, as he talked about the notes of the carols and the charm of the Christmas lights and why he thought I should believe in something at the very least.

But there was more to the night than I had expected…



(cont…)