We get up early and head to the train station for a trip to the seaside. I have maps on my phone and lists of things to do. We head into Cais Sodre station and notice that the gates to the train platform are open. The trains aren’t running. A quick translation of the schedules just says “undetermined” by every train. People are standing around looking confused. I ask a man in a transport uniform if the trains are running today. He shrugs in the universal symbol for who knows. After a half an hour, we decide to scrap our plans and just explore the nearby neighborhoods of Baixa and Chiado.

We head into the city and past the Santa Justa lift. I thought taking the historic elevator would be fun and save us a walk uphill. The line was so long we decided to walk anyway. After all we aren’t sure where we are going so any road is fine.

We have tickets to the Museu Chiado, a modern art gallery as part of our multi-museum purchase. We don’t love modern art but decide to give it a try. It is a very small museum with only a few galleries. We try to make time to appreciate the pieces. But it is hard to love abstraction, especially pieces that look like I could easily create them. I find a few that interest me, but realize that I appreciate skill more than concept. I also value history. The only thing historical is the building that houses the museum.

Underwhelmed, we head back uphill and visit stores in Chiado. We find a Scandinavian dollar store where we spend way to much time playing with the unusual inventory. We try to shop, but clothing here is not my style. I am kicked out of a department store because I am holding a cup of coffee (it even has a secure lid). Rules are rules.

We find a McDonald’s. While I don’t love Mickey D’s, it is fun to order from the giant screen and to see all the things they offer that we can’t get at home. It is also fun to order a full quarter pounder meal for less than $6.00. It is not fine dining by the sea, but we have to make our own fun.

We try to decide what to do. We are not prepared for this neighborhood and are unsure of our options. We are close to a mini golf course and decide to check it out. We enter and pay. We are told that half the course is downstairs and half the course is upstairs. We walk down alot of stairs into a room about the size of our living room. They are the tiniest courses I have ever seen arranged in little boxes throughout the room. It is hard to even stand in the box to putt. There is another American couple attempting to play. We laugh and try to figure out how to make this tiny golf situation work. A few holes simply require you to drop your ball in a tube and hope for the best. We take it in stride and make our own fun.

After golf, we walk down to the river and follow the shoreline. The day is a little overcast and windy. Birds line the rocks. A few homeless men stack rocks in the hopes that tourists will leave coins. The gentle lapping of the water is relaxing.

The crowds pick up at the Terreiro do Paco. People jockey for a position to take pictures at the water gate. I wait my turn. It is good day, as the water level seems lower and more steps are accessible. We sit and people watch for awhile. This day is nothing like I imagined.

Eventually we decide to take a tram toward the Convent do Carmo. We haven’t been on this line yet and we are pleasantly surprised when there is no line. The tram is empty. We can pick our seats. We can sit in all the seats. This is so very different than our usual cram packed ride on tram 28. We celebrate by taking a number of silly photos.

The Convent do Carmo is just ruins with a small museum attached. After the earthquake of 1755, the convent was never fully repaired and in the 1860’s it was given to an archeological society. We look at the sky through the open roof and read inscriptions on tombs.

In the small museum we watch a film and gross out after an unexpected encounter with a Peruvian mummy complete with teeth and hair. The museum collection is eclectic and most of the signs are in Portuguese. My translation skills are improving as many of the words are similar to Spanish, but there is not much of interest. I am happier among the ruins outside.

We linger in the courtyard. My husband stops and points across the street where I was heading to visit a church. A car is stopped in the middle of the street. Two older men are yelling at each other and chasing one another round and round the car. At first it looks like a joke or an Abbott and Costello comedy sketch gone wrong. We notice a women at the corner looking worried and begging one of the men to stop. It is clear that one man is angry. The other man is faster and more provocative. He looks smug. We watch this little farce for a long while, until the angry man gets in his car and drives away. The remaining man smirks and joins the woman who is speaking very fast to him as they walk away. She looks angry. We will never know what just happened.

By the time I make it to the Basilica, I am tired. This day has been full of surprises. I sit and contemplate. The ceiling is beautiful and lovely to stare at. Why do we let things like missed trains and traffic make us so out of sorts? I count my blessings and resolve to be more patient and kind. I realize that surprises are part of life. I get to choose how I react to them. When your train is going nowhere, decide that where you are is the place to be.