Lisbon should come with a warning sign: “Welcome! Please stretch first.” Within five minutes we realized this city is less “romantic strolls” and more “spontaneous leg day.” Honestly, I think Lisbon was designed by a sadistic fitness instructor.
We were in town to meet up with an old friend from South Africa (now happily based in Vila Nova de Gaia). A sweet reunion… followed immediately by cardio disguised as sightseeing. First stop: the Panteão, where legends like Amália Rodrigues and Eusébio are resting peacefully — unlike us, who were already wheezing.
Next, we braved the Feira da Ladra, Lisbon’s sprawling flea market. Great fun, but by the time we’d finished zigzagging through it, we were sweating so much we could have watered the entire Alfama with our collective pores. Luckily, we balanced this out with frequent pit-stops — because nothing says “cultural immersion” like collapsing into a café chair and gulping down cold drinks every 300 meters.
Lunch in Chiado was glorious, mostly because sitting down felt like winning the lottery. But Lisbon wasn’t done with us yet. We huffed and puffed our way up to the Miradouro da Graça (views so good they almost distracted us from our imminent leg cramps), and finally to Miradouro de Santa Luzia, where snacks and drinks revived our spirits… barely.
We ended by escorting our friends back to Santa Apolónia for their train, moving at the pace of medieval pilgrims. By then, our step count was heroic, our energy nonexistent, and our happiness off the charts.
Final score: Lisbon hills – undefeated champions. Us – sweaty, broken, but ridiculously happy.
Enjoy the amazing 📸
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