Fashion and travel

Somewhat like fashion and cooking, I do not mix well with travel.  I am not the one emerging from the plane fresh as a daisy, handling my carry ons and checked baggage with grace.  Rather, I spill out with a lap full of breakfast´s orange juice and a fresh face of white-heads.  Why do they always happen on the plane?  Didn´t I suffer enough already with the moist lap?  And to add insult to injury, I dropped Jane´s hard wheel case full of 50 pounds of food, tools, and obviously wheels, onto my high-heel damaged acheles tendon.  The actual event did occur before the insult, but the injury was lingering.  Turns out a bruised and swollen ankle doesn´t, in fact, get any better when you sit on a plane for nine hours.  Who´d have thunk?

All griping aside, I am on hour 26 of no more then twenty minutes of sleep and I still got out of the apartment for an evening march around the neighborhood.  I was too nervous to explore anything, though, because the streets are so illogical and twisty.  It´s built on the side of a big hill and there are tons of Fado restaurants that all look the same.  I just picked one street and followed it more or less for a while then turned right around.  I don´t need to be that exhausted American girl, lost in Alfama all night.  Not my plan.  But tomorrow I am going to go to Jorge´s Castle!  Whoopie!  Also, hooray for not speaking a word of Portuguese.