We start the day with confidence as we no longer feel lost in Alfama. We don’t know all the roads but we can identify landmarks that keep us moving along the rabbit warren of streets with at least some confidence we will end up near the river and reasonably close to our destination. We even know the bus stop and the bus number that we want to take on today’s adventure. That is all we know about the day.

We take the stop for the Museu de Arte Antiga and are put out on a median, barely big enough for a bus stop sign, in the middle of a multi-lane highway. We look across the street and do not see a road. The gps is clearly directing us across the street. I am confused until my husband notices the stairs. I cannot see the top of the staircase and that is not good. Since there was no way but up, we begin to climb. Halfway up the stairs, we rest on a landing and then climb some more. At the top we find a park with amazing views and a sign that tells us it is illegal to feed the Pombas (pigeons). Poor pombas.

We wonder around and look for the art museum. Signs are not really a high priority in Lisbon. With my trusty GPS, we find the door. The museum is full of Portuguese furniture. Lace from the 1100s, chests from the 1400s, chairs, clocks, and objects from the colonies line the galleries. We admire the artistry, craftsmanship, and ingenuity. I am reminded that people in prior centuries were every bit as skilled, smart, and technologically savvy. In many ways, I am saddened by what has been lost in the era of mass produced goods. But that is a thought for another day.

Putting thoughts of corporate greed out of my head, we head into the galleries of religious art. There are panels of the apostles that capture my attention. They are life like. Each man’s personality writ large on canvas…fierce, loving, protective, pensive. All other works pale in comparison, but we head deeper into the museum. With no signs and no map, we try to follow a path. A gallery is shut off. A stairwell leads to a parking garage. An open doorway leads to a sad little outdoor garden. Eventually we find our way out.

Based on the google map, we are near Estrela. We laugh because google maps says 15 minutes and mostly flat. I don’t need google translate to tell us that this means 30 minutes walking down roads that are uphill roughly the same distance they are downhill. Mostly flat in Lisbon is a euphemism for not straight uphill the entire way.

We eat near the Basilica de Estrela at the Cafe Estrela. There is a line to be seated, always a good sign. All locals and no one speaks English, also a good sign for authentic local food. Ordering is a challenge, but with smiles and goodwill we muddle through.

After an hour of good food and people watching we cross the street to visit the Basilica. My husband thinks it is my mission to visit every church in Lisbon. Perhaps he is right. The church doors are closed, but a tiny side door is open. A man smiles and asks for a few euro. We pay and he points to a door to his left. The basilica is to the right. We go left and find a small door in a dark tower. “What did we pay to do? I thought you wanted to visit a church?” So I did.

I step into the dark and see only a winding stone staircase. I laugh. How bad can it be? We have to know what we paid for. We go up, landing after landing. About halfway up we pass panting German tourists on their way down. My German is terrible but I am sure I hear something like, “I thought we would get to see the church…”. Where are we going exactly?

We step into the light between two giant bell towers at the same time the bells begin to chime. I scream and my husband catches his heart with his hands. We laugh because we are so startled and it is so loud. I feel like Quasimodo at the top of Notre Dame. We are on the roof. There are spectacular views of the city. We see the Castelo and the sea. There is a glorious blue sky. The only view we get of the church is from the inside of the dome. The doorway is open and I peek at the altar. It is a long way down and not at all what I was expecting when we paid to visit the church. Never the less it is oddly peaceful up here away from the crowds.

Across the street is the Jardim de Estrela. After climbing hundreds of steps, whiling away a sunny afternoon in the park seems like a good idea. We sit for awhile, but I am ever restless. So I wander, taking photos of statues and birds. I smile at dogs and small children. My husband waits patiently on a bench in the sun until I return. We find a small cafe. We rejoice that the tram stop is only steps away.

Our return trip is unexpectedly cut short. Tram 28, which should run all the way to our house comes to a halt two stops after we get on. We are all told to get off. Everyone looks confused. After some time, a tram driver tells us that there is a protest in the Praça Comercio. No trams can get through. No one is sure when the trams will run again. This is not great news when you have been climbing hills and basilicas all day. It is worse news when it is the only way you know to get home.

Ever resourceful, we walk to a bus stop that can get us to Graca. At least Graca is at the top of a hill. Walking the rest of the way home will be a downward journey. We love Graca. The Igreja de Graca stands watch over a peaceful park and a lofty Miradouro. We settle into “our” table at Mouriscos and order dessert. I can’t decide, so I take one Pasteis Natale and one biscuit cake. We share. Some time later after sweets and Sangria we are replenished enough to walk home.

We are feeling so much better that we take the long way to the Portas dol Sol. The views are beautiful here at the end of our street. We made it home to Alfama. We can hear the protest far away and detached from our lovely view. There is singing and serious voices over loudspeakers. Some one says it is a teachers strike. Ever an educator, I wish them good luck. I don’t even begrudge them the transportation disruption. If we hadn’t been lost in Lisbon there would have been no biscuit cake and I likely would not be enjoying this wonderful view. Sometimes lost is an okay place to be.