Relying on the Kindness of Strangers

A few years ago, a friend of mind said to me that she could not understand why I speak to strangers. My reply was simple, and I still stand by it:

Strangers are just friends I haven't met yet.

I spent two days trapsing around Lisbon with relative strangers who became fast friends. We were a group of six, sometimes seven or eight (depending on if a local joined us). The group consisted of a British woman from London, three colleagues from Sweden, only one of whom was actually Swedish, one was American guy and the other Portuguese girl, an Albaninan architecture student living in Paris who was 8 years younger than the next youngest in the group, and myself. I really believe that my going to surf school in Milfontes is what made this motley crew of internationals possible- it's just such an out of the way place, that only locals or friends of locals end up there. 

So basically, we were quite the crew.

The Portuguese woman was our appointed leader, and though she was not from Lisbon, she consulted local friends and made sure we experienced Lisbon "the right way."

Our first stop was lunch at a hostel in Bairro Alto. That was not a typo. You read that correctly: Hostel.

I must have missed the memo on hostels in Lisbon, because this place was more like a chic hotel:

Frequented by locals as well as visitors, the Decadente is the bar/restaurant of the Independente Hostel.

As we sat together for cocktails and food (there's that daytime drinking again-God bless) we got a text from another surf school friend- the only Lisbon resident of the crew, I had messaged him earlier for recommendations. He replied with a detailed laundry list of suggestions- which of course included the Decadente.

After our meal, which of course included cod fish, we went to Belém.