As the sunny day waned, she insisted we board a ferry to the far side of the Tejo – her secret bonus to our 24 hours in Lisbon. As commuters went one way and we went another, we seemed amazingly alone, the only people on Earth, taking the riverfront path along half-abandoned docks and warehouses that dead-ended at a tiny bar appropriately named Ponto Final. John Krich
By Friday, with the clock ticking down on my allotted time in Lisbon, the unthinkable became the inevitable. I had to make my move. Besides, my lovely Lisboeta hostess had again made it easy by leading me to the Jardim das Amoreiras (Garden of the Blackberry Trees), a hushed, oblong refuge bordered by the stone stanchions of the city’s ancient aqueduct. She wanted me visit her favourite bastion of art and one of Portugal’s more obscure and untraditional museums, theFundacao Arpad Szenes-Vieira da Silva. John Krich
WARNING: Traveling is a dangerous drug – once you get hooked you can’t stop. Stories like John’s is one of the experiences that get people addicted. Annette & Thomas]]>
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