Lisbon

In the two hours before I left for the airport, I felt a panic like I don't ever remember feeling before a trip.

What if I forget something?

What if my passport isn't accepted? I know it's not expired and Google said my Florida address still on it won't be a problem, but WHAT IF?!

What if I can't be around people this long again after Covid?

What people? You retained zero of the portuguese you tried to learn these last few months. OMG I DON'T KNOW ANY PORTUGUESE!

I panic texted a couple friends and then distracted myself with a book. Once I got to the airport and made it through security WITH my backpack (no lost bag for me this time self five), I calmed down and just felt exhausted. The flight was a shit show, but I slept through most of it.

I landed in Lisbon and had another random panic. Was I supposed to put all my paid time off (pto) on my timesheet before I left? Nobody told me to. I signed all the forms they told me to, but did I miss it? What if I don't get paid?

I tried to resist the urge to text my boss from the airport wifi.

You're not a broke bitch anymore. You can deal with it when you get back. But anxiety won, and I sent him a text, hoping this didnt mean that my work/vaca boundaries were now violated. I am literally paying for half of this time off, since I don't get much pto, so I've been very resistant to any work while I'm here.

I sleepily took myself to the metro. I don't know Portuguese but a DCer knows metro. It wasn't until I reached the top of the metro stop's escalator that I got my first real "hit" of "I'm in another country." And it was beautiful.

I walked through the charming streets in awe, but with a headache creeping in without any coffee . I found my hostel and the concierge told me the check-in isn't until 3 pm, three more hours, but she'd take my bag. I asked her where I could find coffee, and she recommended a spot.

"Do you need change?" I thought she asked.

"No I have some," I said. "Do they take 20s?"

She smiled, "No, would you like to change? Do you need a shower?"

"Oh!" I said in surprise. "Yeah that would be great...can I do that before 3?"

"Of course!" She said. She told me where to go.

"So you need my information or anything?" I asked hesitantly.

She smiled again, almost shaking her head. "No, you can just go shower."

"You just trust that I'm not crazy?" I said to her in surprise.

"Yes, I trust you're not crazy," she laughed. Silly American, not everything is business.

"I can't even pee in the US without proving I'm a patron," is what I wanted to say. But I didn't. I showered and went in search for that coffee.

I was still fighting off the worry about my timesheet, tiredness, and the general anxiety I almost always feel, when I found what looked like a main plaza, with gorgeous views of the water. I walked closer to the water. Someone, I couldn't see who, was playing the famous song "don't worry, be happy." I laughed to myself.

Right then, I saw my boss has texted me back not to worry about the timesheet. He'd take care of it.

That's some Camino shit right there.

Relieved, I stopped at a nearby restaurant. I had iced coffee and pork with a delicious pumpkin purée. When I ordered water, they asked if I wanted sparkling or "still" water (common in Europe).

Wow, this is some white people shit, I thought. Well. Europe is white people homeland I guess. Can y'all tell I haven't been to Europe since living in Miami?

After lunch, I went to find my starting point, the cathedral. I could not find the yellow arrow or the scallop shell, the symbols of the Camino, which my guidebook swears should be there.

Unintentionally, I ended up in a line to enter the cathedral. I saw a man removing his hat to enter the church, and remembered that I was entering an infamously gendered space.

Should I take my hat off too? I knew from growing up Catholic and having to wear a veil in church, that covering your head is sometimes enforced for women. At the very least, it's not usually percieved as disrespectful. But I also had a sundress on, so my SCANDALOUS SHOULDERS were out. I peaked around to see what the other ladies were wearing. I must have been in the Virgin Mary's inner circle because I didn't see any shoulders. I was waiting to be reprimanded, when I saw one of the women selling museum tickets had a Camino guidebook at her display. I walked over to ask her about it, temporarily forgetting my vulgarity.

"The arrow is hidden by the work they're doing on the building," she said. She slipped me a small map of where the Camino starts.

"OH!" I said, I'm so glad I found you!" She was busy selling tickets, so I tried to step away.

"No wait!" She said. "I have more I have to tell you." In between tourists, she told me that the albuerge at a common stopping point at the end of the first day, about 20 km from Lisbon, is closed. So I'm starting tomorrow with no yellow arrow and longer than expected. So stay tuned on how much of a problem that is.

I thanked her and meandered around the mosque-turned-cathedral.

I walked around, still waiting for someone to yell at me for having shoulders. Some bells rang hastily. When my first thought was "is it an emergency? Is there an active shooter?" I realized my nervous system is fucking shot. That's part of why I'm here. Taking a walk.

I passed a statue of Mary holding baby Jesus with his butt cheeks all squished up. A woman next to me farted. It echoed loudly in the cathedral and she pretended nothing happened. I felt better.

I took my shoulders out of the cathedral. I still had time to kill before I could check into my hostel. I looked for the Inquisition Court, where the Portuguese used to kill heretics and "wise women." From the little amount of information I could find, these were women who weren't Christian or who were too smart. I found the plaza, but did not notice any markings of this history. But granted...have I mentioned I do not know a lick of Portuguese?

So far, Portugal does not seem to shy away from its violent history. My Camino guidebook for tomorrow encourages the following reflection:

My first thought was "Hey that’s nothing new, I live in America." But I also remembered that my visits to the Smithsonian Museum of American American History and Culture, where I learned that Portugal was responsible for over 30% of the transatlantic slave trade, more than any other country. Yikes.

Santiago is the third most visited site for pilgrimage, after Rome and Jerusalem. And it's one of the few pilgrimages in the world that is open to anyone, regardless of any other identity, even their religious one. And starting it here in Portugal is an interesting juxtaposition, with the surrounding homages to violence.

For example, when I start this Camino tomorrow, I will start along the river that Columbus and many others genocidal dicks sailed out of. That's a lot to think about.

While I was at the plaza for murdering wise women, I ran into a free walking tour, so I joined in. I learned even more stories there, as we walked through the city.

The first stop was a church right by the murdery plaza. Apparently, several hundred years ago the Pope told the king of Portugal that nobody in his country could be Jewish. The king still wanted them to pay taxes, so instead of genocide, he forced conversion. These Jews were then referred to as "new Christians." At the church we were standing at, a ray of sunshine filtered in the window during mass, shining on the crucifix. The congregation apparently believed it was a sign from god, and one "new Christian" dared to say it wasn't, it was the sun. This man was dragged to outside to the square for being a "scientist" and not a real Christian. The spot where he was killed is now marked, because over the next 3 days, 3,000 more jews were killed.

The King of Portugal was furious to lose so many tax payers and killed the priests responsible. The guide said Portugal didn't talk about it for 500 years. After 500 years, the Catholic Church took ownership for the massacre and erected this monument in the square by the spot of the first murder. In Portuguese, is drafted a public apology to the Jews.

The church has been remodeled with red paint to represent the blood shed here...and without a window that can shine light on the crucifix. As we went in, the guide said "I hope the annoying guy isn't inside. He gets weird about women showing off their shoulders."

I knew it.

Four other women in the group had tanks on as well, they rolled their eyes. At least I was among good harlot company this time.

We entered the church without any problems. But the place was silent and definitely had a sorrowful air. The guide said every day, there are five minutes of silence to honor the Jews lost here.

The rest of th e tour was much more light hearted. I appreciated the candor of the guide. He seemed to really own their history while also showing how Portugal is trying to do better now.

For instance, there's graffiti all over this city. Apparently it was a "problem," before. Instead of banning it, the city chooses designated places for artists to compete to paint. If they win, they can choose which other artists will work with them. The goal is to make the city even more beautiful. It is covered with images referencing their culture. These below are to honor famous musicians here, including the first woman to be recognized for the art. I wish I could remember her name, but that would require understanding Portuguese.

For the smartasses in the room, I’m not forgetting this woman’s name on the wall. She was a famous sex worker and vocalist. It’s the other photo that I can’t remember.

In addition to the graffiti work, Portugal has also built lockers for their homeless to be able to shower. "This is to give them more privacy and dignity," the guide said. I thought that was awesome.

All through the walking tour I kept thinking "you're tired and you don't even have your backpack on..."

Tomorrows gonna be FUN Y'ALL!