Editor’s Note / Lisboa

Luís Vaz de Camões called her a Princess and Jose Saramago a Queen. Fadistas praise her in their songs, and film directors include her in their famous films (On Her Majesty’s Secret Service is just one of them). In his latest film, Poor Things, Yorgos Lanthimos went one step further. He dreamed her up and created a fantastical version of this amazing city.

We visited Lisbon during her pink period — when the jacarandas are in bloom and fill the sky and the pavements with the mauve-pink colour of their flowers. It is late October, and the weather is still sweet. You go out wearing nothing more than a light blouse. At night the sea grows a thousand fingers, slipping under your clothes, stroking your back, sending shivers across your skin and curling your hair. I know that in winter, when the Atlantic turns into fine drizzle and melancholic mist, the charm of this city — with its modern buildings, its azulejos, its colourful houses from centuries past, its fast cars, scooters, and Indian tuk-tuks racing wildly through its narrow streets — becomes even greater.

We sought the city and her story in the photographs of Alfredo Cunha, her oldest lover. In the tenderness with which Daniel Blaufuks looks at her. In the honesty and sensitivity with which Cristiana Morais captures her distant, off-centre neighbourhoods. In the religiosity that inspired the fashion editorial created by Nikos Yfantis and Mara Desipris.

We searched Lisbon in the voice and mind of Carminho, one of the most famous singers of the city’s passion. In the precision of the notes played by leading pianist and composer, Mário Laginha. In the perceptiveness with which Marta Hugon composes her music and lyrics. In the tenderness and joy of the voice and the words of Mafalda Veiga. We listened to the heart of poet, Filipa Leal and the thoughts of writer Gonçalo M. Tavares. We walked among her dead. We entered the home of the wonderful artist Ana Vidigal, while Nicolas Vamvouklis looked at the city through the eyes and the works of its artists. We roamed her streets and reached her castle riding in the tuk-tuk of writer Tiago Salazar, who explained to us the history of her name. In the Diary, I searched for an answer to how her residents see her, and I realised that what connected almost all the different replies was pride. Pride for a Lisbon that is being squeezed, suffocated, and transformed — like most European cities — by real estate, Airbnb, and overtourism that offers nothing, neither to cities nor, in the long run, to tourists who consume without understanding.

Shutting Lisbon in one issue is like trying to drain the sea with a spoon. Yet we tried it with quixotic persistence. The municipality may have installed signs indicating where to go in case of another major earthquake, and many residents may live under the shadow of that fear. Yet in Ajuda, young people lie embraced in the park in front of the Palácio Nacional, lounging on benches, reading, or skating until nightfall. In the city’s small squares, with their cafés and restaurants, the neighbourhood gathers. Her oranges have sharper acidity because they grow in the air of the Atlantic and of the great explorers. The directions you hear inside taxis from Google Maps — vira askerda, vira dereta — give the journey an exotic tone. The airport lies almost within the city, and the hum of farewells hangs above its four hills.

I remember the poems I heard in Portuguese at Casa Pessoa. Without translation. I heard sounds and understood music — and that alone created a beautiful poem. And the image that stays with me is the rain of leaves and flowers in the Praça das Flores, when for a moment no one spoke. Everything slowed into the gentle whirling of leaves.

And finally, I remember the words of her greatest poet, Fernando Pessoa: ‘I’ve arrived at Lisbon, but not at a conclusion.’
And I smile.

Lina Stefanou

A big thank you to Laurent Armaos of the Portuguese Embassy in Greece for his help; to Mafalda Veiga and Filipa Leal for their patience, enthusiasm and support; and to creative director Ana Krausz for her help which saved us from getting lost in translation. And finally, a heartfelt thank you to Felipa Martorell, Filipa Palha, and Susana Albuquerque.