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A city built on seven hills and the assumption that you are not in a hurry. Tiles, trams, and a light that makes everything look better than it is.
The highest of the terraces. Arrive an hour before sunset or stand at the back.
Thirty kitchens around a shared hall. Efficient, expensive, and always full.
A printing complex under the bridge, now bookshops and restaurants.
Second time, four years later, and I noticed how much of the centre now exists for people like me. Still beautiful, still the light, but I spent most of the week in Marvila and Beato and liked those days more than any of the ones downtown.
Sixteen degrees and sun in January, when I had left a town that had not seen the sun since November. That is not an objective rating and I do not care. Ten days of walking, eating outside, and one afternoon where I sat on the same terrace for four hours.
Very good, and slightly further along the road of being a city that mostly serves visitors than I expected. Eat where the hills are steep enough that nobody wheels a suitcase up them.
I came for the light and the light delivered. Shot for nine hours a day and still felt like I was leaving things on the table. The hills are not a metaphor, bring the shoes you actually walk in.
