It was fitting to be approaching Lisbon again from the sea. I stood on the deck of the car ferry from Cacilhas as it crossed the mile wide sweep of the Tagus, and the rainbow city was piled high on the ascending hills of the approaching waterfront. On either side as far as the eye could see swept ranks of red rooftops and white and yellow washed or colourfully tiled buildings, splashed with the green of parks and avenues, topped by the gleaming white domes of its monasteries and churches, and the massive overhanging brown battlements of the Castelo of San Jorge. Downstream were the great red steel towers of the 25 de Abril Suspension Bridge, an almost exact copy of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. Upstream, almost invisible in the distant heat haze was the silvery, spider-web tracery supporting the equally new Vasco da Gamma Bridge. Neither of those had been there when I paid my first fleeting visit, forty-six years ago. I had been seventeen then, on my first trip to sea in the British Merchant Navy, and Lisbon had been my first major port of call. I was washing dishes in the plate house of the old Highland Brigade, and I only managed to get a couple of hours ashore. I bought a set of postcards of the highlights of Lisbon, but failed to find any of the featured squares and monuments as I tramped around the Moorish cobbled streets beneath overhanging wrought iron balconies. I still had that old set of postcards, and this time I was determined to find all those splendid views that had first captured my imagination. Now it was all so easy, I could pick out some of those sights as the ferry approached, and the terminal was right next to my first postcard, the magnificent Praca do Commercio.robertleaderauthor. is a showcase for a lifetime of travelling and writing. There you will find a full autobiography and details of all his books, which include crime novels, thrillers, horror and fantasy fiction. It also highlights the six books of EXTINCTION'S EDGE, which tell the story of Vietnam from the fall of Dienbienphu and the end of the French occupation of Indo-China, to the Great Tet Offensive which led to the end of the American War. These six books form the ultimate novel of Vietnam. There are free read extracts and the stories behind the stories which explain how the books were inspired and came to be written. Pictures are available to illustrate all of Robert's ezine articles. Please contact and request through the website.
This grand waterfront square was designed after the 1775 earthquake, in the centre stands a mounted statue of King Jose the First, gazing proudly out to sea, and a superb classical archway serves as a gateway into the heart of the city. I passed under the archway into the Rua da Prata, a broad, traffic-free thoroughfare of shaded pavement cafe tables and elegant shop fronts and at the top found my second postcard, the Rossio with cascading fountains and another King, Dom Pedro the Fourth on top of the dominant central column. Lisbon's ancient but colourful trams rattled up and down the side streets, with funiculars and ancient iron elevators adding to the different means of ascending to the upper hill levels of this endlessly fascinating city. Just around the next corner I found postcard No three, the monument and Praca do Restauradores, commemorating the heroes who led the 1640 revolt against the Spanish which restored Portugal to Portuguese rule. My old postcard showed more tram lines and trams here, and perhaps a dozen old square, black, high-bumpered 1950s motor cars. Now all of those were gone, and twin streams of fast moving modern traffic sped continuously on either side of the tall white pinnacle with its black-bronze figures of victory. Beyond stretched the great tree-lined Avenue de Liberade, the Champs Elysees of Lisbon, which was originally the fashionable carriage ride through Lisbon's first public park. Here the grand Lords and Ladies of Lisbon once came to promenade, and show off all their fine new clothes with dandified feathers and lace. At the north end of the Avenue was my postcard No four, the lofty monument to the Marques de Pombal. The Great Earthquake of 1775 had struck on All Soul's Day and caught most of the population at Mass. The convulsions had been followed by huge fires from the thousands of overturned candles in the churches and cathedrals and altogether the disaster had devastated two thirds of the city. The Marques de Pombal was the King's First Minister, responsible for the rebuilding of the centre of the city in its present grid of modern streets and squares. Both an autocratic despot and a visionary reformer he succeeded in being both hated and honoured. A short metro ride took me up to the onion domed, red brick coliseum of the bull ring, which was the fifth of my postcards. Then I doubled back toward the waterfront and made my way up the steep cobbled streets to the castle. The superb view from its lofty walls, looking back down toward the river and the sea, was postcard No six. I spent a happy hour here. I love castles and my imagination always runs riot as I climb around the battlements and towers. Finally I stopped in the cool shade of the courtyard to listen to a street guitarist strumming softly. The chords he picked were gentle and wistful, with a hint of sadness. Was this Fado, I wondered, the sweet soul and blues music of Lisbon? I wasn't sure, but I liked what I heard, and it was a very pleasant and relaxing way to end my day. My last two postcards were the Monastery of Jeronimos and the Belem Tower, and I found them close together on my second day after taking the short tram ride down to the Belem waterfront. The massive ornate dome and the two pinnacle towers of the huge monastery gleamed sugar white against a pure blue sky. However, its most unforgettable feature was the main entrance which was a rich profusion of elaborately carved figures and stonework above and around the great wooden doors. It was a stunning example of the lavish opulence of Baroque art and architecture which adorns almost all of Lisbon's wonderful churches. The Belem Tower was built in the 16th century and looks more like an elaborate mediaeval folly than a serious attempt to defend the river. It has pretty little towers and sentry boxes with Moorish helmets on every corner. It was virtually Portugal's National Monument, but is now partially eclipsed by the massive golden stone Monument to the Discoveries, its modern counterpart. Built in 1960, the Monument to the Discoveries, like the two modern bridges, is one of the new images that dominate the postcards on sale today. A huge triangular tower, it is mounted on the prow of a ship, with Prince Henry the Navigator leading the surge of monks, knights and sea captains who led Portugal's ships on their epic voyages to discover new worlds in the 16th century. Times have changed, and most of the sights on my old postcards seem to have slipped into the background as the new, ultra modern landmarks have sprung into prominence. But it is all well worth the voyage of discovery, both the old and the new. And Lisbon is one of those sun-blessed cities with a multitude of high viewpoints, offering seemingly endless scenic panoramas where you can admire it all. Robert Leader is the author of more than sixty published novels. His website at
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