I booked a four‑day city break to Lisbon for a number of reasons. It’s a city I’ve never been to. I hadn’t travelled anywhere except my home country for four years. I was desperately craving to feel joy again, to awaken the wanderlust that had been put on hold while I was putting my life together and building a safety net for the future. Or so I thought. I might have been exhausted from waiting for the one person I’d go to the end of the earth with – and still would – to come with me to any corner of the world. I thought a trip to anywhere would snap me out of it and clear my mind. Were those four years lost? Or did I lose myself all over again after those four years?
I landed in the early afternoon and was disturbed by how unexcited I already was about the days ahead. I tried to trick my mind by paying attention to my surroundings, admiring the newness of it all. But for some reason, it all felt common. A building is a building. A street is a street. A monument is a monument, and a square is a square.
After I found my apartment and freshened up, I went out to explore the city center. There was only one place I knew I’d go to; the rest I’d discover as I went – my preferred new-city schtick. I wanted to eat seafood and taste a pastel de nata. Both were achieved by the end of the trip, but that’s not what I want to talk about.
When I got back to the apartment in the evening, I thought I was doing well, even feeling great. I was excited for a new day. Right up until the moment I sat down for a smoke, only to break down and cry my eyes out. There were so many reasons for it, and I cried for all of them. There were also many reasons to be happy and carefree, but I struggled to find the balance.
Fast‑forward through stairs, squares, streets, alleys, monuments, a high street lined with restaurants and drug dealers accosting me every five meters, the port of Lisbon, yellow trams, and endless shops, day four crept in. My flight was at 21:45 so I needed a plan for the day that included experiencing something else. I took the bus to the Oceanário de Lisboa. The reviews promised a wonderful experience, and I was hoping a day spent there would be a day well spent. I even booked a ride on the cable car. I took pictures of everything. It’s a beautiful place, indeed. Vast open spaces and a long walkway stretching along the ocean bank, running parallel to the cable car above, more restaurants, and the aquarium itself – I captured it all and enjoyed myself.
Silver lining 1 – Uber
Because I was on my own, even though I took my time, I was ready to head back to the city early, around 15:00. I debated whether to take the same bus back or try a taxi ride so I’d know how much it cost, and if it was reasonable, I’d take a taxi to the airport as well when the time came. I knew one thing – whatever mode of transport I chose, I’d still have plenty of time for a smoke or two, some tea and a pastel de nata.
Finally, I decided. Taxi it would be. I booked the trip back to the apartment with Uber. The estimate was no more than €10. I’d get there faster, and it would be more comfortable. So far, so good. My request was accepted promptly, and the taxi arrived just as quickly. I sat in the passenger seat and chatted with the driver for about twenty minutes – nothing of note, nothing to remember – until I told him I’d get out at a stoplight near the apartment. We said our goodbyes and thank-yous, and I proceeded with my plan. As soon as I got out, I started walking to the coffee shop nearby, feeling pretty good about myself and about the day. Even the trip seemed brighter now.
The shop was only about a ten-minute walk. Somewhere in the middle of it, I reached into my jacket pocket for my mobile. The jacket pocket was empty. The speed with which my blood either boiled or drained all the way down to my toes – I’m not sure which sensation describes that second more accurately – was mind‑blowing. It stopped me in my tracks. I rummaged through my bag, hoping against hope that it might be in there. It wasn’t, so I turned around and took off running, hoping he was waiting for me.
He wasn’t. What’s the opposite of a silver lining? A black one? Everything was on the phone – the app to unlock the apartment and get my bags, my payment cards, the boarding pass, the maps… And the phone was on mute – not that calling it even crossed my mind once the disorientation and panic took hold. How in the world am I going to fix this? How am I going to get back home?
…
Helena to you 