I am up and out early, waiting in Place Rossio and the south end of Av. da Liberdade for Mike to arrive from the airport. Sure enough, I see him circling around the square on his loaded bicycle and I wave him down. What a thrill it is to see him, and a relief too! If he hadn’t shown up I would have been at a loss of what to do next. So much can do wrong with long distance plans and I began to worry on the way here because we had no back up plans.
For his part, he seems relieved to see me too. He flashes a row of white teeth my way, his large brown eyes hidden behind his orange-tinted, pink-framed sunglasses. “Well, it looks like we’ve made it this far,” he muses softly in response to my more-boisterous greeting. He’s not a man of many words, unlike me.
Mike is eight years younger than me. I was interested in him when we first met a couple years ago, when I saw his doleful brown eyes, his sweet face and his strong arms and chest. There was nothing showy about him, nothing machismo. He is not the gym-bunny type. He got his build from swimming competitively for years. I’ve always been attracted to silent types like him, perhaps because without much communication to go by I imagine them to be anything I want them to be. But I am a Gemini and I thrive on communication, so as lovers silent men never make a suitable matches for me.
I have learned over time that Mike has a quick mind and lots of opinions, but he gives everything he says careful thought first, if he speaks at all. His habit of keeping things to himself hasn’t helped his relationship record either. I met him in the Out & Out cycling group when I was still with Seph, so I never pursued him, but I have met others who have tried to date him and gave up in frustration.
A few months after we met, Mike met John, his present lover, who lives in Washington, DC. He has flown down to see John as often as he can this past year, but still they have spent most of their time apart. He says this is his best relationship ever. Perhaps not having dialogue with John every day gives Mike time to think about what to say. And distance seems to make his love grow stronger, so I suppose I am helping out in a big way by dragging him off to Europe for a year.
I lead him up to the north end of the Bairro Alto, as I had noticed a nice looking pension last night on my way back from Xeque-Mate. It proves to be too expensive for our tastes so we walk to where I have stayed the past two nights, la Pension 25e de Abril. We pay for a room with two beds and I move my bags into it. We nap there for two hours and then have lunch, sandwiches made from supplies we picked up on the way down from the Barrio Alto.
The afternoon is spent hiking up the high bluff to the east of Av. da Liberdade to the ancient fortifications of Castelo Sao Jorge, which has great vistas look south over the Tagus River estuary, which serves as the harbour, and the huge suspension bridge that crosses the mouth of the harbour, the Ponte 25e de Abril. 
We make our way down the south side of the hill towards the harbour through one of the oldest neighbourhoods in the city, the Alfama. It has great character with its steep, narrow streets and lane ways decorated with many clotheslines. We eat dinner at a restaurant near the waterfront, and walk back to the hotel slowly.
Back in our room, we spread our guide books out over our beds and discussed what to do next. Just talking about it is exciting, no matter where we finally go. I had hoped to push north to cities like Coimbra, but Mike isn’t keen on going anywhere beyond Sintra, half a day’s ride from here.
PHOTO 1: Mike
PHOTO 2: vista of lower Alfama and harbour
PHOTO 3: vista of upper Alfama & monastery from west
PHOTO 4: Alfama & St Mary's Church
PHOTO 5: Alfama, narrow street
PHOTO 6: Alfama, back lanes with laundry
PHOTO 7: Alfama, more back lanes, laundry
PHOTO 8: Alfama & Sao Jorge Castillo, looking up from harbour
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