Lisbon lie-ins
Matthew Young delves into Portugal’s mesmeric capital city
THE lights go down, the restaurant falls silent and three men and a woman, dressed in black, approach the instruments awaiting them in front of the watching diners.
Their eyes are closed, emotions are heightened and the crowd is transfixed as the quartet begins their mournful, mesmerising songs about life in the second oldest neighbourhood in Europe.
After four numbers, the music stops, the band walks away, the lights go back up and dinner resumes for 30 minutes until the next of three sets.
The music is Fado, and the neighbourhood is Alfama, sitting high up in the beautiful city of
Lisbon. “Fado is melancholy and a reflection of our melancholy way of life – we are always reflecting on something,” the group explains.
“It can be a little bit sad but it’s mostly talking about our daily experiences. We are not always crying.”
Stepping outside Clube de Fado – nothing could seem further from the truth in this vibrant, fun-filled area of a city awash with colour and charm. We were lucky enough to spend a weekend city break in the
Portuguese capital during the annual two-week
Santo Antonio Festival.
By night during this period, Alfama’s streets, like many across the city, are filled with Portuguese folk music, decorations, dance, pop-up bars and the irresistible waft of grilled sardines on every corner. It is an attack on the senses and a joy to behold.
By day, Alfama, with its perfect combination of ancient charm and modern festivities, is a truly infectious place to explore. An earthquake in 1755 devastated the city but Alfama was one of the districts to largely escape destruction, meaning it has kept its original stonework. A short walk away (or, in our case, a tuk