Lisbon, fado & discovering myself
We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place, we stay there, even though we go away. And there are things in us that we can find again only by going back there.
― Pascal Mercier, Night Train to Lisbon
I vividly remember the night I was in a Fado bar in Alfama, the oldest district in Lisbon. It was my first night in the city and I had just walked around Alfama, taking a bird’s eye view of the entire city from the São Jorge Castle.
Fado music is popular in Lisbon and is characterized by its melancholic nature with the perfect blend of music from the guitar or mandolin. Usually, fadistas, as singers who sing fado are fondly known as, sing tales of love, death and sadness. As depressing as it sounds, there’s also a poetic sense to it and despite the language barrier, I felt like I could identify with whatever the fadista was singing about.
It is perhaps true that music is a universal language but as I reflected on my day, I realized it wasn’t just the music but also the Portuguese culture that I seemed to resonate with.
Strangely, Lisbon had never really crossed my mind as places I wanted to visit until a couple of days before I left for the city. I was studying in Santiago de Compostela, Spain, that summer and a friend suggested we head down there as it was a short train ride away. I had no opinions and hadn’t done any research on the city before heading over but the minute I stepped out of the train station, I was enthralled!
It has puzzled me — what is it about Lisbon? What is it about Lisbon — a place so foreign to me but so familiar at the same time so much so I find myself constantly looking for ways to head back. As I walked the cobbled streets and took in the sights, I felt as though I had been in the city forever even though it was just my first night.
The city is one of many paradoxes. There is a subtle clash between modernity and history, with a clear juxtaposition of the two themes prevalent all over the city. Statues of warriors in history line the Lisbon city centre as not only a constant reminder but an acknowledgement of Lisbon’s extensive past while there are modern stores all over. It is obvious that there has been an effort to conserve trademark elements of the city such as the iconic tram and azulejo tiles that line old buildings and some of the many delicacies like pasteis de nata (the traditional Portuguese egg tart) and bacalao (cod fish) dishes. Perhaps it is also an acknowledgement and an appreciation of its seafaring and trade past — the conglomeration of many cultures with Indian and Chinese restaurants sprawled in between pockets of traditional Portuguese restaurants.
The constant paradox is perhaps the main reason I could identify with the city so much — I constantly find myself wanting two opposing things at the same time not knowing why but being in a city that embraced this notion made me want to be a part of it. I felt like I belonged because the city understood me or may be it was the other way around — I understood myself better because of Lisbon.
That night at the fado bar, I remember thinking to myself how much I wanted to capture all my emotion in the fadista’s music. It’s funny how much being in a new city changes perspectives for you. I’ll always be thankful to Lisbon for teaching me to not only be aware of my roots but embrace the globalization of cultures and more importantly, to come to terms with my own inner paradoxes.
