Joanna Hecker·
Stories
··2 min read

City Inside Out

Lisbon can seem like a city turned inside-out. Esplanadas and kiosks and gardens teem with neighbors who swing by briefly or stay for hours – or who come intending to swing by briefly, and end up staying for hours as if held in place by magnetic force. We flow past in the surging waves of traffic, perhaps, but we tend to eddy in and swirl around like flotsam and jetsam caught in a tranquil tide-pool. These spaces begin to feel like the living-rooms and dining-rooms and kitchens of our friends and neighbors, where – as the old theme-song goes – “everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came.” 

Different spots draw different crowds, of course. You may feel more at home at Adamastor than you do at Quiosque Oliveira; you may find your tribe at the Jardim das Amoreiras more readily than you find them at the miradouro da Nossa Senhora da Graça. And it’s true, of course, that sometimes it’s hard to get a good table among the tourists at São Pedro de Alcântara or Santa Luzia. But the secret is that the best outdoor-socializing options are not the grandest, the most picturesque, or the most obvious: they’re the ones we stumble across by accident, or improvise from nothing, when we’re in the company of the people we love. The hidden becos and travessas and escadinhas of Madragoa and Mouraria and Alfama become the perfect stage-sets for our dialogues and debates, our romances and ribaldries, so colorfully present that they are nearly like interlocutors in themselves.    

The secret is that the best outdoor-socializing options are not the grandest, the most picturesque, or the most obvious: they’re the ones we stumble across by accident, or improvise from nothing, when we’re in the company of the people we love.

This may be the case in any city of temperate climate on certain days, at certain hours, and during certain benevolent times of the year. In Lisbon, however, it seems remarkably consistent regardless of the weather. Even during the winter months, when a chill nips the air and cloud-veils descend among the buildings disguised as a fine mist, people still gather outdoors. Anyone who’s anyone will cluster outside of restaurants for hours, talking, smoking, laughing, flirting. We’ve learned to dress in preparation for the possibility: we bring an extra layer and swap the heels for sneakers just in case the camaraderie flows more naturally on the sidewalk than it does in the dining room. At Da Noi and Osteria and Pub Lisboeta, at Café Tehran and Palma Cantina and Jobim, some of the best tables are outside on the curb – and they’re probably not tables at all.    

It’s not that the door is always open, or that everyone is welcome within these walls; it’s that there is no door, and there are no walls. You don’t have to be on a list, you don’t have to know the owner, and often you don’t even have to buy anything. Just pass by, and feel the pull; succumb to it, and stay. 

Joanna Hecker
United States
Joanna moved from New York to Lisbon thirteen years ago. She is Director of Communications at Gama Glória and a ritual celebrant, writer, and speaker. Her first book, The Celebrant, is forthcoming.
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