I have been wet and cold so often since I have arrived that I have taken to wearing a T-shirt and socks to bed to keep warm. Mike and I wake up late as the last vestiges of jet lag linger on. At least for him. My lethargy has more to do with my new head cold, which for now is mainly a sore throat.
We are itching to get beyond downtown Lisbon, to do a little riding on foreign turf. But first we buy more groceries – cheese, Portuguese bread and fruit – to make our lunch. I select my loaf and carry it to the check out. The sales clerk has a total fit because I am touching the loaf with my bare hands. “What does she care? I was buying it anyway,” I say to Mike as we leave. “What do you expect from a country that exports 50% of the world’s cleaning ladies?” he replies. We eat lunch in our room and then head out on our first unloaded ride since arriving.
We head west along the north side of the harbour, under the Ponte 25e de Abril, which arches high above us, and beyond. It reminds me of Vancouver’s Lions Gate Bridge, or better still, San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge. The main street along the waterfront is paved and free of potholes to this point but we start to hit stretches past the bridge that make Toronto’s Spadina Ave feel smooth. I am as slow and unhurried as ever and Mike patiently waits for me. There’s a stiff headwind coming from the Atlantic and I am cautious about straining my knees this early in the trip when they have not toughened up yet.
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Our first stop is the mandatory Heironymite Monastery, a sprawling palace of an abbey with a most regal facade. It is a United Nations Heritage Site. We lock our bikes and go inside to check out 
the amazing stonework, cloisters and the tomb of explorer Vasco da Gama. I half expect his epitaph to read, “I’d rather be in Mozambique.”
We continue on to the Torre de Belem, another heritage site, which marks the entrance to the harbour. It is also known and the White Tower. Apparently, it used to sit on an island until the great 9.0 Lisbon Earthquake of 1755 shoved up the land and joined it to the mainland. It juts out slightly into the harbour and is an ornate architectural gem, a cross between medieval and Moorish.
The headwind becomes a tailwind for our return, making it easier, or at least the parts without cobblestones or potholes. We follow the harbour access road until we are forced to join the main road. Mike wants to return to the hotel but I am not yet ready to call it a day. In spite of my head cold, we push on to see the Se Cathedral near the Alfama before returning.
Mike and I go to Bar 106, a gay dance bar, in the evening. We meet Terry and Darren there, two friendly Australian travelers. We can’t stay out long though. I still have my sore throat, and we both need our rest for our longer ride we’ve planned for tomorrow. We arrange to meet the Australians at 7:30 tomorrow evening downtown in front of the Santa Justa Elevator near Place Rossio.
PHOTO 1: Heironymites Monastery
PHOTO 2: cloisters of the monastery
PHOTO 3: Mike at the entrance to the monastery
PHOTO 4: tomb of explorer Vasco de Gama
PHOTO 5: Mike at the Torre de Belem
PHOTO 6: Se Cathedral
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