Lisbon Tram Adventures

Olá from Lisbon, my hill-climbing companions! I've arrived in Portugal's sunny capital, a city built on seven hills (allegedly—some count five, some count more, no one agrees) and connected by a charmingly creaky system of vintage trams. The most famous, Tram 28, rattles through the oldest neighborhoods in yellow wooden cars that haven't changed much since the early 1900s. I squeezed aboard with approximately forty other tourists, grabbed the leather strap for support, and let the city reveal itself through windows that passed close enough to touch the buildings on either side.

Tram 28 is essentially a roller coaster disguised as public transportation. It climbs impossibly steep gradients, hairpin-turns around corners where you can see directly into people's living rooms, and squeezes through streets so narrow that pedestrians press against walls to let it pass. The brakes screech. The wooden body creaks. Fellow passengers sway into each other as the car lurches. It's terrifying and delightful in equal measure. At one point, the tram ground to a halt because a delivery truck had blocked the street; we waited fifteen minutes while the driver and the tram operator negotiated in animated Portuguese. This is Lisbon: beautiful, chaotic, and running on its own schedule.

The neighborhoods the tram passes through are Lisbon's soul. Alfama, the ancient Moorish quarter, tumbles down the hillside in a maze of narrow alleys, crumbling facades, and laundry hanging between windows. Graça offers panoramic viewpoints (miradouros) where locals gather at sunset with wine and snacks. Baixa, the downtown grid rebuilt after the 1755 earthquake, provides elegant contrast with its straight streets and neoclassical architecture. Each district has its own feel, its own cafés, its own regulars who've been drinking bica (espresso) at the same counter for decades.

The food required extensive research. Pastéis de nata—those legendary custard tarts with the caramelized tops—demand multiple daily tastings. The famous bakery in Belém had a line out the door, but the tarts were worth the wait: crispy shell, creamy filling, the slight char of burnt sugar. I also ate bacalhau (salt cod) prepared about eight different ways, drank ginjinha (cherry liqueur) from tiny chocolate cups, and devoured fresh grilled sardines that tasted like the ocean distilled. Lisbon eats well and eats affordably, which is increasingly rare in European capitals.

Fado, Portugal's melancholic national music, is best experienced in the Alfama neighborhood where it originated. I found a tiny tasca (tavern) with checkered tablecloths and a single singer who performed traditional fado songs for a room of maybe twenty people. The music is sad—fado is rooted in "saudade," a Portuguese word for longing and loss that doesn't translate properly—but also beautiful, raw, and powerful. When the singer finished, the room sat in silence before applauding. Some experiences are too emotional for immediate response.

If you're planning a Lisbon trip, comfortable shoes are non-negotiable—the hills and cobblestones will destroy anything less sturdy. Take the trams for the experience but expect crowds; early morning is best. Visit the miradouros at sunset for spectacular city views and local atmosphere. And don't limit yourself to the famous neighborhoods—cross the river to Almada for the giant Christ statue, visit Belém for the monastery and the pastéis, explore LX Factory for creative repurposing of an industrial space. Lisbon feels undiscovered compared to Barcelona or Paris, but it's catching up fast. Go soon. 🌵🚃🇵🇹