Traveling is dangerous. My parents worry about me every once in a while; whenever I told them I was going to Portugal, they expressed concern. What happened if I fell in love with the Portuguese language?
Thankfully, I survived the trip, heart in tact. My oh-so-tradional (can we make this a new tradition?) Thanksgiving weekend was spent in Lisbon, Portugal. Natives call their town Lisboa, which in Portuguese comes out like “Lish-boa.” The first two days were blustery, quite fitting for the holiday lights that decked the town. During our two-and-a-half days, between crash-course Portuguese lessons and fish-eating and cobblestone-walking, my friends Christina, George, Kara, Patri, and I also squeezed in visits to the towns of Belém and Sintra.
Portugal welcomed us with castles
Water-side view in Lissshboa
Lisboa is one of the handful of cities that still uses trams
Palacio Pena, in Sintra
More Palacio Pena
The cathedral in Belém
More picturesque Sintra
Kara, George, Christina, and I in front of the Tower of Belém
Ruins of a Moorish castle in Sintra