Portugal (y Madrid)

To preface:

As you may or may not recall, at the end of my most recent entry - My Time Down Under - I finished by officially ending this blog. It was done, finalized, finito, because at that point this "Europe, Part 2" leg hadn't really been established in its entirety. I truly thought I was done traveling for a while.

Clearly, reading this now you can deduce that I have NOT, in fact, honored my word and ended this blog. If you take issue with this, too bad. It's mine, and I can do what I want. :) 

Plus, as I so love to reiterate, writing and solo travel have become synonymous to me now, so it would be doing a disservice to myself and to all the very avid readers of this incredibly lucrative and popular blog to avoid making another few posts, simply because the Mark Tytell of a few months ago - in the southern bowels of this planet - decided he was done.

Anyways, now that that's all out of the way, let's get into these past two weeks in Portugal (and a bit of Spain).

After a few months at home working to bolster my sad-looking bank account, I was eager to get out and travel again. Finally, (the day after I returned from a late-April roadtrip with my family down to Shenandoah national park), I was once again on a one-way flight to Europe. Specifically Lisbon, Portugal. What an unbeatable feeling, sitting alone as a plane flies off to take me abroad again.

From now on, any travel journey in my life will have a tough time comparing to the 30-hour return leg from Melbourne to San Francisco last February, but my first day in Lisbon came close! After taking a sleepless red-eye flight overnight and having to wait for two hours in long customs and passport control lines, I got to my hostel at 9am Portugal time without any sleep at all. I still had to survive a whole day before I could realistically go to bed, and to be honest, as I write this and think back to that time, it's all a bit of a blur. I remember blearily walking to a coffee shop and trying to keep my eyes open in the hostel lounge area for hours upon hours. By the time it was even remotely acceptable to go to bed for the night, I'd been awake for 2 days straight. And of course, lying in bed that night yearning for sleep, my body just wouldn't let me fall asleep. Jet lag and noise from the street outside the room kept me up until very early in the morning. Long story short, the first 2.5 days of this trip were a bleary nightmare. 

Luckily, those travel days were a complete contrast to the rest of my time in Lisbon. I stayed in the Lost Inn hostel, which was an example of the perfect hostel: medium-sized, indie, with a familial feel and a great social atmosphere. (The Black Swan in Barcelona is another perfect example of this). With free sangria every night at 8pm, socializing was easy and I quickly gained a small, classic hostel friend group for a few nights (a Kiwi, 2 Aussies, 2 Dutch girls, a Mexican, 3 dudes from NYC, and a whole heap of Canadians). Of course people came and went every night, but the vibe for my three real nights here was just great. 

The Lost Inn hostel is a 2 minute walk away from Pink Street, Lisbon's classic noisy bars/clubs street, which was the primary spot on our first night. This city has gems everywhere, though, not just that street: the outdoor bar and dance area by the water near Time Out Market, the gelato bar near our hostel, and the bar in Barrio Alto with the weird dancing aliens (I'll never forget you). 

I learned, through people at the hostel, of a must-do day trip while I was here. A short 45 minute train ride west from Lisbon takes you to Sintra national park, a spot which has like 5 castles in walking distance from each other. This would be the proper time to tell you some of the history of this place, and why one castle simply wasn't enough - as it often is in most other places - but I really have no idea. Maybe the Portuguese just really love castles. All I can say is that it was a really beautiful day out, and I got lucky with this crazy mist that clouded the area when I was there, which made everything seem cooler and more medieval. In parts of the Moorish castle, it even felt like I was wandering along the walls of Winterfell from Game of Thrones.

It was a LOT of walking though. Even though, in the grand scheme of things, these castles are all close together, it's still a full day's trudge to see it. In principle, there may have been a bus I could've taken, but that felt too wimpy. Just be warned.

After my Sintra outing, the final night in Lisbon did not disappoint. Playing King's Cup in the hostel with some *interesting* custom rules, getting my palms read, and arguing with some incredibly drunk British lads on a stag do that no, Savannah Georgia is NOT, in fact, a state in the USA. They couldn't be convinced. The night ended with a 4am trip to the only 24-hour McDonalds in Lisbon, which was packed to the brim with a line out the door. Clearly everyone had the same idea as us, and it was great. Plus, with the differences in regulations between US and European McDonalds, I don't even feel that bad eating it!

I only had one full day in Nazaré, but the cliff faces and wide beaches formed a beautiful natural juxtaposition. There were even some badass dudes casting fishing lines from the tops of the cliffs, which led to some cool photos but left me confused. If they ever did successfully catch a fish, it would have to dangle midair for 30 meters on its way back up the cliff! Seems inefficient.

That evening in the hostel, after a seaside dinner of some Portuguese grilled squid, I met Daniel the German, a university student from Stuttgart, and we went up to the clifftop to watch the sunset. We talked about politics, and he recommended my next city spot as well as a hike I should do (more on that later). He was on his way down from Porto, heading towards Lisbon. I've been noticing that most young travelers in these medium-sized Portuguese towns are going from Porto to Lisbon or vice versa. It reminded me of my time in Bratislava, where everyone was either going from Vienna to Budapest or the other way around.

And let me just say, photos don't do this sunset spot justice.

My next stop, courtesy of Daniel, was the university city of Coimbra in between Nazaré and Porto. Right off the bat, my first note is that I wouldn't recommend the Coimbra Portagem hostel, where I spent the 3 nights. It feels a tad decrepit, with a weird layout, no kitchen, and full of old people getting ready to hike the Camino de Santiago. In fact, on my first night I was completely alone in a 6 bed hostel dorm, which was new for me. It felt jarring and wrong.

Coimbra itself is a very pretty town, though, and - like Lisbon - very vertical. It has this large university on the top of the hill, where the fraternities and sororities wear long, Harry-Potter-esq robes that made me feel like I was walking through Hogwarts (or Cambridge, England, for that matter). The town also has some great clothing stores, and since it's been surprisingly cold here so far, I spent a while shopping for a light overcoat. I had left Boston packed for a Spanish summer trip, but it's still a brisk early May! This is why you always leave a bit of space in your bags.

After my weird night alone in the hostel, it was time for the hike that Daniel recommended. Of course, when he shared it with me on Komoot, it was in German. I spent a while searching but I couldn't find an English version of exactly what we did. It's called the "Schieferdorf Talasnal - Burg Lousã Runde von Lousã," if anyone's interested.

Portugal and Spain are littered with religious pilgrimage walking routes, the most famous being the Camino de Santiago, from Porto to Santiago in northwestern Spain. This hike was along a section of religious trails outside the small town of Lousã, in the Portuguese countryside about an hour from Coimbra. It took me up into the hills, past caves and waterfalls and through a few old schist villages (unconnected old medieval Portuguese towns), and it really felt like an adventure, especially because some of the trails were ill-maintained. There were sections of this hike where I felt like I was trekking through the forest on my own, climbing and crawling around fallen trees and downed telephone poles and scrambling up rocks. Sometimes the path just looked like it disappeared. At one point, it actually did, and I had to take my shoes off to cross a river without a bridge. All in all, a great day trip if you want to feel like Sir David Attenborough in some remote jungle somewhere. (Happy 100th birthday to him, by the way).

Since the hostel in Coimbra had been so underwhelming, it made the spontaneous final night out in the city an unforgettable surprise. Since everyone I'd met up to now in this relatively-empty hostel had been old people, I was surprised when a Dutch couple my age walked into my room. It was almost 10pm and I was getting ready to go to sleep in the empty room again, but they convinced me to join them out for dinner and a drink, and on our way out we met two Swedish dudes our age, who also invited two Canadian girls from their room, and we all had one final night out in Coimbra. It was a night of bar hopping, foosball, discussing Man City's Premier League chances (I've lost hope), partying with the university kids at the top of the hill until early in the morning, and then impromptu karaoke in the hostel, bringing some much-needed life to the Coimbra Portagem hostel. 

All of us were coincidentally leaving for Porto the next day, so this was our "Last Night in Coimbra," and we felt we had to make the most of it. Sometimes, the greatest memories are those that happen completely unexpectedly; always say yes to random stuff like this.

And that brings me to Porto, the second-largest city in Portugal and the highlight of my European 2nd leg so far. 

Let me rewind briefly. When I was in Europe in the fall, I met a cute girl named Charlotte in a hostel in Barcelona. We really hit it off, but I had to leave the next day so it got cut short. Fast forward a month and a half, and we met back up in Split - a small city on the Croatian coast - for 3 days. It was such a fun and new experience, and seeing someone from one of my travels AGAIN is always a special feeling. We parted ways not expecting to ever see each other again. 

A few weeks ago I sent out a shot in the dark and asked if she wanted to meet up somewhere again. I figured, since it was my last time on her side of the Atlantic for a while, and Split had been so great, that it didn't hurt to ask.

Fast forward, and here we are again 6 months later in Porto.

The experience of re-meeting someone you already had such a connection with after 6 months of basically no contact is interesting; I don't think it's the kind of thing that happens often. The whole weekend was a whirlwind: catching up and learning about everything that had transpired since we'd last seen each other while exploring a new city together again.

It just so happened to be raining on and off the entire time we were there, which was sort of a bummer but led to some funny, frantic, and soaked walks back to the Airbnb. And of course, a city like Porto is arguably even more beautiful in the rain. Everyone on the trip up to this point had said that Porto was the better of the two cities, and it certainly has a different sort of charm from Lisbon, but it's hard to say which city I preferred. I genuinely can't decide.

After her Uber pulled away to take her to the airport, I turned around and hopped on a 6 hour bus journey towards Madrid. 

As the bus drove through the beautiful rugged Portuguese countryside and the flatter, farm-ier Spanish countryside, I realized that these travel moments spent looking out a window are so underrated, and an amazing way to spend an afternoon. Just as long as the bus has a bathroom (if not it can be brutal).

Now, to get all the way from Porto to Madrid in one day is a long journey, so I broke it up by spending a night in Salamanca, a small city on the way. There's nothing much I can really say about this spot. The original plan had been to get up at a reasonable time the next morning in time for a run and photo walk through the city before my bus in the early afternoon, so that I at least saw something. My body said otherwise, though, because clearly the lack of sleep over the past 4 nights had finally caught up with me. I slept so late that I almost missed checkout. 

My 20-minute wander before the bus didn't even take me to the famous square, so it's basically as though I didn't visit Salamanca at all. Yet another place I'll have to go back to! 

Then, after another bus ride, I was finally in Madrid.

Over the past year, I've been to many cities, large and small. Most places are manageable and viewable in a few days, but some - like Berlin, Rome, and Sydney - just feel overwhelmingly gigantic. Madrid is another one of those.

To be honest, I didn't really do much while I was here. The main goal was recovering from the craziness of Porto and Coimbra, and preparing for some more craziness to come with my hometown friends in Barcelona. That being said, I did manage to wander around a bit, seeing the Palacio Real de Madrid and the Prado Art Museum (good, but not at the level of the Vatican Museums or the Louvre). I also went for a run in the Park de El Retiro, which was beautiful.

But if I'm being honest, most of it was lounging around, procrastinating writing this blog post, and eventually actually writing this blog post. Nothing wrong with that.

Oh, and you know how I maintain that Europe cannot for the life of them do good Mexican food? Well, I was proven wrong! TKO Tacos in Madrid, which do 1 euro tacos (so you KNOW I've gone there every single night), are actually really good, which was a pleasant surprise.

Before this rambling entry finally ends (soon, I promise), I want to ask y'all a question.

When you think of Madrid, what's the first thing that immediately comes into mind? 

Tapas? Flamenco? The Spanish Inquisition?

Well, for me it's Real Madrid, the football (soccer) team. Its been on my bucket list for a while to see them play at the Bernabeu, and just my luck, on my 2nd-to-last night in Madrid, they had a home game against Real Oveido! When I realized this, I was excited and quickly bought a $115 (cheap) ticket online. Except that I bought it on Stubhub, a platform which I view as a perfectly-legit ticketing service, and so I was surprised to realize I'd bought a resold membership card from some dude named Edu instead of a real ticket (which is strictly against club policy). Apparently the only verified way to get tickets is through the official Real Madrid website. It sounds obvious now, but in the moment I didn't realize I was making a big mistake. 

I'd still spent the money though, so I figured I'd try to get in. The evening of that game ended up being some of the most frustrating few hours I've experienced in a while. The instant I left the hostel and got on a train towards the stadium, my phone decided it didn't want to connect to the cellular network anymore, and nothing I did would fix it. Perfect. I ended up getting off at the wrong train stop, and had to navigate myself to the Bernabeu like old times, without Google Maps. How did people manage, back in the day?! 

It was made even more stressful because I also needed to coordinate the meeting with Edu, the ticket-reseller, to collect the card, which required connecting to a random public Wifi network for a few seconds to confirm a meeting point. Eventually - finally - I made it to the top floor of a random Burger King outside the stadium, to meet Edu, and found that naturally he didn't speak any English. With the help of Google Translate, I realized he wanted me to sign a document and provide a copy of my ID as a deposit for the ticket. I was feeling so frustrated at that point, and it was such a sketchy scam, that I just walked out. I wasn't about to give some random dude my ID. 

I settled with watching the game back from the hostel common area, and I can call it a lesson learned. Always buy from the official website. 

Portugal (y Madrid)

May 15, 2026

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