Day trippin to Cascais

Being creatures of habit (albeit somewhat constricted by continuos location changes) we headed back into the main drag in the centre of town for coffee and pastries in the same joint as yesterday. All very pleasant while surrounded by the busy inner city morning life of Lisbon. Generally there is a very happy vibe to the place. So good on 'em. We then wandered down to the port area and eventually found the train station that funnels the hordes along the river bank to the coast. There is definitely a mentality by the tourist throngs that queuing is ok. Queuing is good. Queuing is what you travel for. Yesterday we skipped the queuing hordes at a different station all patiently waiting in line to buy tickets to get to Sintra. Today they were all waiting in line to buy tickets to get to to Belem and/or Cascais. We could've saved a couple of minutes by going to queue-less machines in the levels in the Met below but had already missed the waiting service so it didn't really make any difference. What was really surprising was the queues in Belen we noticed as we shot past. There were thousands of them lined up along the river just to see a memorial to the "Age of discovery" (aka "Conquest") and a bit further on a small (almost toy) castle built on the water line. We'd had the rap from a fellow traveler yesterday and so knew better than to stop there and kept going up to the end of the line.

Cascais is another playground for the wealthy. This one is situated where the Tigris River meets the Atlantic ocean and as such has decent beaches, impressive cliffs, clear water, surf and sun. Fun for everyone. Five minutes before arrival we had the thought "what are we going to do when we get there". Luckily the internet gave as a list of ideas via the Trip thingy and we walked straight out of the station , hired a couple of push bikes and we were off. Weaving our way through cobblestone streets, dodging tourists and avoiding cars. Once we got through town, around the impressive fort that is the harbour we hit the very well appointed bike path that runs along the cliffs and heads over to the ocean proper. We didn't go the whole way as that was not the intention. Instead we turned around in the car park of a very swanky looking resturant on the cliff edge and coaxed our creaking single gear hire bikes back up the hill whilst the gleaming luxury cars in the carpark behind gloated to each other in the bright midday sun. Stopping for a very pleasant lunch in a slightly less salubrious establishment (Casa da Guia) we were surrounded by some very well dressed and well behaved locals. Obviously the elite were out for lunch and were in no hurry to go anywhere. Still, the staff fed and watered us which is all we needed before riding off on our trusty steads to stop at the bike side market at a place called Boca do Inferno. This has some awesome rock features carved from wild waters and lots of interwoven staircases and tunnels and bridges carved by mankind into the stone as well. We didn't stop to look at this because there was a market set up to cash in on the tourists who stopped there. Which we did stop at. Got some stuff and treadled on.

Back into town and had the bike hire guy snap us on our transportation, caught the train back into town and walked back through throngs of young people in blue shirts performing chants and strange movements all choriographed and lead by older ones in black and white. It sounded politically motivated. There were swarming all over town. We discovered later this was the first year uni students going through their orientation week and this was a hazing ritual. Dinner was yet another walking tour. This one was called "Tapas Experience" and was quite an adventure. Seven people from a wide variety of cultural backgrounds lead to more interesting conversations than the actual food and drinks which we'd already pretty much experienced over the last days. It was interesting to see the old red light district which still maintains a seedy feel and apparently comes alive at 3am. Way after these old fuddy duddies are in bed.

The students had gone by the time we walked the same route back through the centre of town again, replaced by partying participants in Portugal's politically permissive population. The fancy elevator (aka tourist trap) looked resplendent lit up at night. Back in the room it was time to yet again pack up and have a restless night as poor preparation for the day's hop, skip and jump to the next destination.