XI - Return to Lisbon

Like always, being back in Lisbon feels weird to Leonardo. Bittersweet emotional bonds link him to the city that saw him step into the shoes of the young man that he is today, but he left her as soon as he could after the secondary school graduation ceremony.  Despite his mixed feelings about it, however, if there is one place where he feels at home, this is it: old, melancholic Lisbon.

The first time that Leonardo stepped on Portuguese soil was about twenty years ago when he was just 6 years old. On that distant summer day, he got his first glimpse of Lisbon from 2,000 meters in the air with his mother and her second husband, Manuel. He kept a vague remembrance of that day at the back of his mind but every time he came back he relived it.  It didn’t seem so long ago, now.
He remembers saying goodbye to his grandparents before leaving Rio - a goodbye drenched in tears. He remembers flying for the first time, and how it terrified him even then. He remembers the strange accent of the Portuguese people, of walking slowly behind his mother and Manuel through the airport, observing the people and marveling at how different they were from the people back home. And he remembers crossing the airport rotating doors and taking a glance at a new city, a new country and a new continent all at once. This was to be his home for the next ten years of his life.

Two decades later, Leonardo arrives at Lisbon once more, this time not as a foreigner, but rather as a prodigal son returning home.

He arrives at dawn, as always. The bus stops at the main bus station in Lisbon, Gare do Oriente, meaning eastern station, a fitting name since it is located in the eastern part of town. Eight hours travelling non-stop from Madrid, traversing the endless Iberian roads until finally reaching the western-most point of the Peninsula – what a ride.  Leonardo lost track at some point of how many times he had been on that particular nocturnal journey, since taking the night-bus from Madrid was often the last stage of his trips going back to Lisbon from several points in Europe. Even when he resigned himself to taking a plane, he usually disembarked at Madrid’s international airport, since it was much easier to find a flight to Barajas, Madrid’s international airport, than to Lisbon.

Travelling by night is always better than travelling by day, especially in what comes to long bus trips. A bus trip from Madrid to Lisbon usually takes around eight hours. During the day it can be quite a tiring trip, especially in the summer, the buss cramped with smelly, moody passengers, fustigated by the intense heat. However, the nocturnal journey had gone relatively fast, cut short by the long sleeping hours Leonardo managed to snatch, spread over two seats of the half-empty bus.

Leonardo collapses on one of the empty benches at the station, placing his backpack filled with a bunch of crumpled, dirty clothes along with an old laptop and a few books and notebooks by his side. Looking at his watch he realizes its still four forty-five in the morning – an hour earlier than he expected. He sighs. ‘It’s still too early. I can’t knock at my mom’s door this time in the morning, especially considering that I didn’t even tell her that I was coming today. No, I’ll have to wait at least a few hours before going home.’

           

           
The Traveller is Listening to:

Lisboa Menina e Moça (Carlos do Carmo, 1976)
http://videos.sapo.pt/2wvIplCKIZ6863z3Ojjp