LISBON

29 – 31 October 2025

It was Chris who manufactured this trip to Portugal. He’d approached me with a vague “would you rather go to…?” list of destinations which, unbeknownst to me, were the locations of the concerts on Parkway Drive’s 20 Year celebration tour. Lisbon was the obvious choice, being the only city on the list we’d not yet been to together. Also made sense to tag on a week to the Algarve since that idea had long been gathering dust on the bucket list. 

Although we had had months to plan, the trip snuck up on us, as it does with life being as busy as it is. We thus leveraged technology to shortcut the planning, providing Copilot with a detailed brief. Mere minutes later, we had a tailored road trip plan, complete with sightseeing suggestions and links for appropriate accommodation to meet our requirements. What a blessing it was to get everything booked and confirmed in less than an hour one early morning before work!

Flying British Airways got us into Lisbon at lunchtime on Wednesday, the day before the concert. Eager to make the most of our time, Chris had pre-booked a mid-afternoon walking tour, so a hasty check in at the hotel, quick shower-and-change and we were off to meet our Discover Lisbon Tours guide at St Pedro Square.

The route to the meeting point dispelled our first misimpression of what Lisbon would be like. Being coastal, we had assumed it would be flat; it was not. Far from it, in fact. Our tour guide, Jac, would later tells us that “nothing is really far in Lisbon… but it’s always up and down a hill or two to get anywhere”.

Our timing was spot-on, and we assembled with our cosmopolitan group at 3pm as planned. Jac was at the ready to get the story started, kicking off with the history of Pedro, after whom the square we were standing in was named. The story was complicated with many twists and turns but the gist had this hapless chap being evacuated to Brazil with his family after some sort of revolution and becoming Dom Pedro I, the first emperor, when he supported the Brazilian efforts to get independence from Portugal. When his father, Pedro III, died, Pedro I didn’t want to leave Brazil so he sent his 7 year old daughter back to Portugal to marry his (Pedro I’s) brother to maintain the monarchy. After a series of missteps and royalty disloyalties, Pedro I ended up having to return to Portugal to save the monarchy, thus also becoming Pedro IV when he took the throne. He certainly deserved a square after all that palaver.

Especially seeing as squares are a dime a dozen in Lisbon. Jac shared the sequence of events that led to the modern city we see today. As one of the oldest capitals, second only to Athens, Lisbon had seen many eras and styles. On All Saints’ Day in 1755, the city was hit by an earthquake. To add insult to injury, the Catholic locals had all lit candles to commemorate the religious holiday so the quake led to a huge fire that ravaged the city… until the post-quake tsunami hit. What a series of disasters. Most of the city was destroyed, except the Alfama district, where the Jewish population had been moved following a dark anti-Semitic episode during the Inquisition in the 1600s that involved riots and a lot of bloodshed. No Catholics, no candles, no fire, so the area is still well-preserved for today’s tourists to enjoy. 

Jac led us across the square with its grey and white wavy patterned tiles (same as we had seen on the promenades in Rio de Janeiro), artistically symbolising the tsunami. He pointed out that the modern layout of the city was plentiful with parks and squares such that should another earthquake occur, the city would have space for the people to gather, avoiding the massive loss of life from the previous disaster. 

With our detailed intro done, we set off up the hill, stopping hither and thither as Jac told us stories of politics, plundering and balesome Fado songstrels sharing their lyrical sorrows with the town from their open windows, some signaling their availability for duty as ladies of the night! We were lucky to have a guide to lead us through the historic district’s maze of steep cobblestone streets that have seen footfall since the Moorish era, past the scenic Miradouro de Santa Luzia’s vistas of the Tagus River and Alfama’s rooftops and up to St George’s (São Jorge) Castle to see the ancient walls and panoramic views of the city.

Jac talked as we walked, stitching the story of how Portugal became a dictatorship in 1927, when the military took over to remedy under-performance on the economic front post World War I, leaving Portugal as a lagging nation in Europe. Although the people were pleased at first by the promise of improvement, the novelty wore off with the increasingly oppressive and clandestine activities under General Salazar. Over the 47 year period, Salazar was replaced by Caetano, who continued in much the same manner without fulfilling the promise of economic prosperity.

By 1974, the people had had enough and there was talk of revolution. On 25 April people were coming out onto the streets in a peaceful protest. The army was called out and marching in the streets to make their presence felt; the soldiers, knowing the revolution was coming (and probably agreeing with the sentiment to some extent), were non-threatening. A flower-seller called Celeste impulsively started placing a carnation in the up-ended barrel of each soldier’s rifle as they passed. The soldiers didn’t object and others followed suit. The peaceful uprising thus became known as the Carnation Revolution and within hours the military dictatorship resigned to begin the journey to liberal democracy and with it emancipating all the overseas colony to establish their independence.

The effectiveness of peaceful protest has served the people well. Although local residents are now complaining about the gentrification of their neighbourhood, with tourists wanting to experience the charm of the cobbled streets and old-world life pushing prices beyond the reach of the traditional residents. Protesters are spray-painting complaints over the legally-required holiday rental signage (careful not to sully the authentic buildings behind the signs) and residents have started posting portraits of themselves outside their homes to personify the human impact of local capitalism. Passive but effective! 

With our tour complete, we settled in a streetside cafe to gather our thoughts and plan our evening. With a little Internet on our side, our trusty restaurant recommendation app, The Fork, helped us to choose from the plentiful selection of highly-rated options in the downtown area. Once again, it did us right with a fabulous multi-course dinner at Orquidea of rabbit Samoosas, lightly baked bacalhau (cod) pie and hearty pork chuck steak with francesinha sauce, washed down with a local red. Our 30% Fork discount was a sweeter ending than the dessert we had no space to house.

THURSDAY 

Recovered from our travel fatigue, we took to the town on foot for a morning jog around the business district. The city was immaculate, with big beautiful 18th century facades, and warmly lit shop windows lining wide streets with shiny cream stone pavements. The pedestrians were going about their day, nobody seeming in a tearing hurry although it was rush hour. Cars stopping patiently as we crossed streets, none of the lane-jockeying and hooting we were used to combatting on our morning commute.

As pleased with ourselves as we were with Portugal, we procured a couple of pain de chocolat and pasteis de nata at the Lidl across the street from our hotel, to serve as a quick-snack breakfast before the morning tour. We would be visiting one of the outer districts of Lisbon, called Belem, so decided to grab an Uber rather than risk delays mastering public transport to find the meeting place at Garden of Afonso de Albuquerque.

It was a wise call because with all our pre-excursion adventures, we arrived with only 10 minutes to spare. At the meeting place at the meeting time, we were disappointed when our tour guide was a no-show. Fate did intervene though and we spotted another walking tour passing us and, believe it or not, recognised two of the couples from our tour the previous day so knew it was an English group. I approached the guide, Silvestro, who welcomed us with enthusiasm.

We had missed a bit, but it didn’t matter much because our first stop with our new tour was right up our alley; Pasteis de Belem, the famous pastry shop that had been run by the same family since 1837. A very popular experience, the bakery churns more than 20,000 little custard treats a day. Silvestro told us that the nuns had invented the recipe out of necessity since they had been using egg whites to starch and stiffen their robes so been left with a glut of egg yolks. The story has it that they got creative with many cooking experiments, the most popular of which were the pasteis that became so prolific. It seemed fitting that with the samples from Pasteis de Belem barely digesting, we entered the church to see where these clever nuns had done their actual day-job thing. 

The church was as grand and magnificent as one might expect seeing as it was built on the harbour such that arriving adventurers would immediately sense the success of the inhabitants at this busy port. Silvestro pointed out some unique architectural features, like the late Gothic frame with the ropes, seashells and leaves that acknowledged local life. There was also a navigation sphere on the church’s dome as a tribute to the Portuguese sailors and their impressive colonisation across the globe. Around  the base and atop of the dome was the cross of the Knights Templar (sounds like they provided local traders with security services for safe passage when they travelled to trade), which is also still adorned on the Portuguese football gear to this day.

Silvestro walked us across the park to the port promenade, pointing out the signature cobblestones that the Portuguese had taken with them to their colonies, many of which we had seen on our travels. There were stone inlays along the path as well as a huge fountain featuring similar stone inlays naming the 51 countries that the Portuguese had diplomatically called ‘overseas provinces’. They were mostly islands dotted along the trade route, with notable exceptions closer to home for us, like Angola and Mozambique.

The tour ended at a huge statue of the bow of a ship that had distinct characters carved around the edge. The first two were Joao I of Portugal and Richard I, the Duke of Lancaster. They had signed the legendary alliance that essentially recognised each other’s nautical prowess and agreed a non-compete on colonisation. This military alliance survived the ages and is in essence still in place today.

Needing a sit-down after all the walking and talking, we took a lunch recommendation from Silvestro in a quieter, less touristy part of town. We selected Os Dois da Torre, hunkering down on a fantastic fried salmon and a sizzling pork espetada (skewer).

With a bit more time to spare, we braved the train back into town, where our efforts were rewarded with a very pleasant surprise tourist stop. The oldest Irish Pub in Lisbon happened to be opposite the station! Having learnt to strike when opportunity is offered, we popped in for a pint, that logged O’Gilin at #7 on the index. Good thing we only had time for one! With new pep in our step, we navigated through the upmarket pedestrian shopping streets of Baixa to get back to our hotel for some feet-up before the concert.

Within walking distance of the concert hall, Campo Pequeno, we approached with much excitement. It had been months of anticipation and preparation, and finally the time had arrived! There were small groups of chaps – a lot with long hair and all clad in all-black – clustered at the entrance. It was a small stadium so we hadn’t expected much fuss to enter, but the process was even slicker and quicker than imagined. We made our way straight to the merch stand and were soon proud new owners of Parkway Drive 20 Year Tour commemorative t-shirts. 

Entering the stadium, we were pleased to see that the entire standing room was smaller than the average Golden Circle area in the bigger scale events. At peace that we would not be close to the stage for fear of getting enmessed in a mosh, we were also delighted by the distinct height advantage we held over the population, with easy unrestricted view of the stage that was only tens of metres in front of us. And soon enlivened by the warm-up act, Thy Name is Murder. 

The main event took us a bit by surprise when the band members of Parkway Drive did not enter on the stage, choosing rather to arrive by the side entrance and parade through the standing area where we watched agape. Parenthesed by a flag-bearer before and after, the band members strode across the floor and took to the stage to blast into ‘Carrion’ as the audience was still processing the so-close-you-could-touch-them entrance.

What ensued was two hours of crazy cool chaos, with screaming and singing, dancers and electric string section, moshing and swaying, fire and frenzy. The extreme pyro-technics were only outdone by the drummer rotating in a burning cage that saw him playing upside down in a suspended inferno for several minutes. The lead singer at one stage leapt off the stage, swathed his way through the throng, jumped up onto a makeshift podium his security guy had plopped in the middle of the crowd, belted out a chorus and then conducted a complicated choreographed mosh pit. You did not have to know this band to appreciate the extreme theatrics of the performance! 

The show had us so hyped that we exited the arena completely overwhelmed and overstimulated. So much so that we didn’t notice we’d exited the opposite side that we had entered; and were so busy swapping ‘how was it when…?!’ stories that we didn’t course-correct until a couple of kilometres in. Needless to say it was a 1.5km walk to the stadium and 3.9km walk home!

FRIDAY

After a late night, a long walk and waking to a grey day, we confirmed the plan to be – as Silvestro had recommended – a lazy train ride to Sintra for some wine-tasting. Reviewing our photos and videos from the night before provided plenty of fodder to keep conversated on the walk to Rossio station as we munched our morning pains and pasteis.

5 Euros and 40 minutes later, we arrived in Sintra… as the rain started. We retreated to the tourist office and coffee shop to get our bearings (and internet), before confirming our initial intention to decline any formal tours to the local castles and palaces, and rather brave the ten minute walk into the Old Town. Appropriately dressed and having remembered our holi-brolly (umbrella), the walk wasn’t terrible, although sad that we passed on some of the more snappable sights because of the poor conditions.

The quaint little town was a welcome sight as we rounded a corner and spotted the first of the charming shops in this alluring commercial nugget. After fondling some soft and fluffy woollen goods on display outside an artisan shop, I was steered in the direction of the eating/drinking options. By now it was inarguably raining, so we found a wine-tasting store to our liking, Mr Binho’s, and settled in for a bit as the rain came down outside.

The mission was to sample Portugal’s signature Vinho Verde (green wine) so-named because it was made from the young grapes from the north of Portugal. In olden times the grapes had been planted too close to trees and thus had never prospered because of the battle for resources, hence being under-developed before they were harvested. It was discovered that this under-mature harvesting brought a different and attractive flavour, so they kept doing it. We liked the rosé but we really really liked the white. We also liked the 3 reds we sampled – they were as dry as we were, which was especially a win under the circumstances.

Our hosts were highly hospitable, recommending a tasting of this and that, as well as providing a gift charcuterie to keep us balanced. Or perhaps just to keep us busy, seeing as the shopkeeper turned a hopeful group away when they arrived while he was eating his lunch at the table next to us. Obviously he could see we were too settled to move – and he was right; we only cleared out once the weather had sorted itself out.

Returning to town on the train, we made the most of the pleasant late afternoon for a wander around, browsing the lively market square we had passed on our tour the day before. Jac had warned us that the market was geared for tourist prices and recommended that we try a Bifana during our stay, so we combined both bits of advice and returned to Baixa where we’d seen some on offer.

Spotting an advertising board that made us drool at the mere sight of it, we were drawn to Restaurante Oishii for our dinner. The bifana was everything we had hoped for and more. Succulent slow-roasted strips of meat pillowed in a Portuguese dusted roll that was as soft as a marshmallow. The waiter served it with a massive bottle of creamy piri-piri sauce; understandably sized once we’d tried it and realised it was delicious enough to serve by the glass!