"Lisbon is our Greece"

Five months after arriving in Germany, I packed a bag, tucked my passport into my purse and headed for the airport. However, instead of flying home, a friend and I decided to ditch Germany for sunnier skies elsewhere in the European Union.

Initially, we'd wanted to go to Greece. The stories, history, architecture and sunny beaches we'd heard about appealed to us even before the long, cold German winter set in. Then Nessa went to the travel agency and received bad news: Greece is miserable in February.

Trying to cinch a business deal be helpful, the travel agent suggested either Lisbon, Portugal, or a city in southern Spain. To be honest, I wasn't entirely thrilled with either choice. Greece was on my "to visit" list for the year, and I'd never had even the slightest inclination to visit the most western members of the Continent. Besides that, I'd apparently never studied Portugal in history, picturing something akin to a remote tropical jungle. What would we do in Lisbon, I wondered?

Fast forward a few weeks. I was visiting some of my German friends and mentioned Lisbon as a pending option for winter break. Their response surprised me. Phrases like "a beautiful old European city" contrasted sharply with my initial image. When I visited Nessa a short while later, we looked up some pictures online. Needless to say, the "jungle" quickly replaced itself with castles, cathedrals and coastline. About 10 minutes into our research, we were both hooked. She set up another appointment at the travel agency and booked our trip.

European travel, though, has been a bit of a learning curve for me. I should have realized this a few years ago when I accompanied a German to New York, but the difference eluded me then. Maybe it's because camping vacations, visits to relatives and weeks at the Oregon coast comprised my childhood vacations--you don't necessarily have to pack tons of sightseeing into days centered around hiking or crafting or reading or fishing. Nonetheless, when you visit a place where there are important historical sights, the rule of the game is simple: planning, planning, planning (and don't forget good walking shoes).

Anyways, I missed the message my first time in New York and barely salvaged a week in Vienna two years ago; San Francisco last summer was a little better; however, this time, I began serious planning well in advance. German style.

Perusing the local library's resources
proves an affordable way for the initial
planning and research. Even slightly
outdated travel guides can offer a good
jumping off point for those interested
in first-time visits to a foreign city.

The public library offered me two travel guides on Lisbon as well as a compact German-Portugeuse dictionary. I soon fell into an evening routine of googling "Lisbon," "travel," "things to do" or combinations of all three. The weekend before our trip, I was thrilled when The New York Times ran its signature "36 hours" travel piece on Lisbon. That's what I call perfect timing.

Forty minutes before our airport-bound train rolled out of the station en route to Lisbon, I was drinking coffee in a bookstore in Leipzig Hauptbahnhof, leafing through their collection of travel guides--just in case I'd missed something. Up until the moment of departure, I invested myself fully in the mission of finding everything important to see, do and eat in Lisbon and the surrounding areas.

By the time we finally flew out of Leipzig, I not only knew Lisbon was definitely not a jungle, but I had also quenched my reservations about how we'd fill our time. In fact, I actually was wondering how we'd manage to fit it all in!

Nonetheless, if planning is the strategy for traveling well, flexibility is the key for winning the game. If you can perfect the flexibility technique, the final scoreboard will result in the most rewarding component of travel: discovery.

Despite its inherent importance, no amount of planning can predict what will actually happen when you arrive on location, especially if it's at 5 p.m., your body thinks it's 6 p.m., and all the restaurants happen to be closed until dinner starts at 7 p.m. Welcome to Lisbon.

Before the trip, I'd read snippets about tipping, about drinking the water, about navigating the city--but somehow, I'd forgotten to find out about the city itself: its timetable, its history and its people. Realizing the challenge, but determined to push forward, we reviewed our game plan.

In our case, planning meant having a hotel and knowing the bus line to take us there from the airport. Flexibility meant wandering through the city, starving, until we found a grocery store that sold the best bananas of our lives. Combined with some crackers and cheese we bought to ward off the hunger pains until we could patronize the pizzeria next to our hotel, we kept walking toward the water, hoping for something to pop up.

Suddenly rounding a corner, we stumbled into a gorgeous, three-sided square--a huge arch fabulously lit up in subtle tones of pink, framing an impressive statue of a horseman, stunning in shades of green. The best part? The fourth side of the square segued seamlessly into the darkening waves of the Tagus River, stretching lazily along the city's edge, interlaced with bridges, spotted with ferries toting passengers to the shores beyond, where long rows of bright lights beckoned, crowned by a figure with outstretched arms flooded by spotlights and towering above the opposite river's edge.

Stunned by the sight, we went to the stone wall along the river, claimed two seats and sat down, enjoying the view, no longer worried about our delayed dinner. Our flexibility had been rewarded. Discovery complete.

The statue in the middle of Terreiro do Paco (literally "the dirt square"), recently renamed Comercio Square, was the first monument in Portugal to represent someone still living at the time, in this case, a celebration of King Jose I and the successful reconstruction of Lisbon after the devastating earthquake in 1755.