Best Things to Do in Lisbon
Oh man, I just got back from Lisbon, and wow, where do I even begin? I feel like I'm still wandering through the cobbled streets in my head, half-expecting to stumble upon that little café that stole my heart—or should I say my taste buds? If you're looking for the best things to do in Lisbon, pull up a chair; I've got a few stories to spill.
This spot? Total surprise.
You know those travel guides that promise some mind-blowing view or the best dish ever? Yeah, I thought I'd find them in the typical spots, like Belém Tower or the Moorish Castle. But it all started one morning in the Alfama district, which is just this wonderful maze of narrow streets. Honestly, I had just set out to get lost, and I was doing pretty well at that.
Then, I turned a corner and stumbled upon this small plaza with a fountain that looked older than time itself. There were locals chatting, a few kids playing nearby, and the smell of grilled sardines just hanging in the air. My stomach grumbled in protest, and I thought, why not? I took a seat at a little table surrounded by five older gentlemen animatedly discussing something, or just life? I didn't really know.
And there it was—the best grilled sardine I've ever had. I mean, it was unreal. Flaky, smoky, and paired with this fresh bread that mopped up every last bit of flavor. I sat there, a bit dazed, thinking, “Was this still part of my morning?” It felt right; simple, yet perfect. Who knew that I'd find one of the best things to do in Lisbon quite literally by just wandering off the beaten path?
The afternoon that changed my whole mood
You know those days when you feel like everything's just a little off? That was me during my second day. I had hit a wall with my plans, and honestly, I found myself sitting at a super touristy café, sipping on a mediocre coffee and just scrolling my phone. Kind of pathetic, right?
But then, out of nowhere, I decided to take the tram to Bairro Alto. I almost skipped it because I'd read it was crowded and maybe even a little overrated, but something pulled me. I hopped on, and as soon as that little yellow tram started climbing those steep streets, I felt the excitement building.
I stepped off, and it was like I entered a whole new world. The vibe was different—sort of electric. Street musicians dotted the corners, playing everything from traditional fado to some amazing modern pop tunes. I found myself bopping along, and then I noticed it—this hidden little bar with a sign that barely advertised itself. “Why not?” I thought.
Inside, it was cozy and dim, with wood paneling and funky artwork. A bartender—I think his name was Miguel—served me a ginjinha, which is a cherry liqueur that felt like a warm hug. I ended up chatting with a couple of local guys who taught me a few phrases in Portuguese, and suddenly, my whole mood shifted. I left that place feeling lighter, like I'd unlocked some secret treasure in the city.
I almost missed this, no thanks to my bad sense of direction.
One thing you should know about me is that I have this uncanny ability to get lost even in small towns. When it finally dawned on me that my phone did not have a reliable signal, I felt that familiar twinge of anxiety wash over me. I was trying to find this famous bakery, Pastéis de Belém, known for its custard tarts. I mean, what kind of trip to Lisbon would it be without them?
But as luck would have it, I found myself lost near the Tagus River, staring out at the water feeling almost defeated. As I took a bite of something I grabbed from a random street vendor—a questionable chorizo sandwich—I spotted an unexpected street fair. I don't know why I ended up there, but the atmosphere was infectious.
After some awful attempts to ask for directions in my half-hearted Portuguese, I made friends with a teenager who spoke perfect English. She told me about this small, family-owned bakery a few streets away that serves these amazing tarts—much better than the tourist trap I had been looking for. Literally, I followed her lead like a lost puppy—and holy hell, those tarts were life-changing. Creamy, flaky, a crunchy sprinkle of cinnamon on top… I thought I might cry.
A meal that left a strong impression
And then there was this dinner at a restaurant called Time Out Market. I had heard about it and thought it would be another overcrowded hotspot, definitely trying to hit the “best things to do in Lisbon” list. But seriously, wow.
Picture this: a bustling food hall stuffed with every tasty dish you can think of. I decided to go with my gut—literally. I tried octopus salad, grilled fish, and even some crazy ceviche that I'm pretty sure was baptized in lime juice like it was part of a ceremony. With every bite, I was just pinching myself. How is this all happening?
And the people around me—they were a mix of locals and travelers, all sharing tables, stories, and laughter. That feeling of community was so infectious. I ended up chatting with a couple from Canada, who swapped travel tips over glasses of wine, blissfully unaware of the outside world. Hours seemed to slip away, and before I knew it, I was the last one at my table, buzzing from food and conversation.
Final thoughts
Looking back, it's hard to wrap it all up neatly; it was the kind of trip where freedom met serendipity in some bizarre dance, spiraling into unexpected moments I never could've planned. So if you ever find yourself in Lisbon, try wandering without a map, grab a bite from somewhere that feels right, and talk to someone you meet along the way.
I'm still wrapping my head around that cherry liqueur and those tarts. If anything, travel is a series of little adventures that make you feel totally alive. I can't wait to share more over another cup of coffee, maybe later. But for now, I've said enough. I'm still living in those moments, just letting them settle softly in my mind.
