Lisbon: O mito é o nada que é tudo...

Lisbon is a city that survives on the myths it and its inhabitants create for it and despite some misgivings, in certain specific instances, it's an attitude that I have a lot of sympathy with.
That said I much prefer the gritty realism of a decaying city, where the myths are put into perspective by those who have to live there, day in, day out. Manchester had it in the pre-gentrified red brick factories around the north of the city and in the small 'satellite' towns like Bury, Bolton and Wigan where the population seems to be made up of pensioners and pregnant teenagers. Parts of London, where I lived, had it in the South East, around Peckham and Deptford where the art students haven't yet reached and where walking the streets at night still gives a rush of adrenaline...but then again this perhaps myth making of my own...it is my own though and it is based on experience.

If you know where to go in Lisbon that same gritty realism can still be found but it's quite off the beaten path. The city is chock full of Fado joints where you can hear the songs of saudades for a time or place that exists no longer or hear and read the stories times when Bairro Alto and Alfama were area full of prostitutes and their pimps. Even the main flea market, Feira da Ladra (Thieves Market), has a romanticised name - although in this case there is something of a truth to it (the edges are full of suspiciously new looking mobile phones and digital cameras and the central touristy bit is pretty low on bargains).

Nowadays in Bairro Alto and Alfama you are just as likely to see trendy refurbished apartments sold or rented to foreigners, for much more than the locals can afford, than you are old women hanging their washing out. This is of course a familiar story in so many cities but what makes it especially sad in the case of Lisbon is that firstly it is happening so late when compared to other European cities and secondly because Lisbon resisted this for so long it is a charm that it blindly hangs onto despite reality.

Not that I am criticising the areas for this change, change is important and change is good. One of the great things about Lisbon is that it is still alive but sometimes the feeling is that it is evolving despite itself. These areas have deservedly become now part of the tourist trail, they are beautiful and interesting and, in the case of Bairro Alto, lots of fun. But for a real taste of Lisbon as it is lived you have to take a little walk behind those areas.

Now, as ever, this whole post hasn't just been plucked from my brain at random, there is usually an incident or experience that sparks these long thoughts and this profession of love the dark underbelly of cities had been prompted by the imminent move of my office. We are now in the process of moving from one of my favourite areas, Avenida Almirante Reis (Anjos) to one of my least favourite, Cais de Sodre.

It is almost unheard of for anyone in this city to shun a river view but as part of my role as the eternal contrarian I am left somewhat bemused by them. Of course there is the theory (maybe it's fact, i don't know) that the sight of water has a soothing effect on the soul but in my honest opinion the view of the River Tagus from Lisbon isn't one of the great sights. It's a little too industrial and to be frank a little dirty. (This however is not true for the views of Lisbon across the water from Almada which are amazing) Anyway, what I am giving up for the privilege of seeing container ships on a daily basis is walk through one of the liveliest neighbourhoods in Lisbon.

It is no exaggeration to say that every day I smile on my way to work because of the pleasure of the sights of the city alive. It's also true that every day I walk past the same group of prostitutes every day to the point where we now smile and nod at each other and it's also true that more often than not I have to take a little skip over a dried pool of unexplained blood somewhere along the route. But it is making this route every day, seeing the same people, even the junkies bumming cigarettes outside Casa Santa Maria, going into the pastelarias, the tascas and even the supermarket that I feel part of the city. Every city has its museums and its monuments but only Lisbon has my whores and my junkies!