Ten days in Portugal.
May 12 — 22 · one backpack, no plan
Lisbon
Days 1–3
The hills are a rumor until you climb them. We got lost twice before breakfast and stopped minding by the second time — every wrong turn in Alfama ends at a viewpoint or a bakery.
Tram 28 rattled past our table close enough to touch. Nobody flinched but us.
Pastéis de nata count: six. Each. Before noon.
Sintra
Day 4
A palace the color of a sunrise, sitting in a cloud. The fog burned off at exactly the moment we reached the terrace, which felt arranged.
Porto
Days 5–7
Porto is Lisbon's older sibling who reads more and talks less. We drank vinho verde on the Ribeira and watched the rabelos swing on their moorings until the bridge lights came on.
The Algarve
Days 8–10
We saved the ocean for last. Three days of cliffs and salt and doing absolutely nothing, professionally.
Ten days, four cities, one rule: always order the second coffee.
Already planning the way back.