Jun 29th, 2009
Mmm… Lisbon
I really like the word demonym.
It’s fun to say: “Dem-ah-nym.” The “-nym” part is the most delicious part of the word, leaving the lips pressed together with its yummy “mmm” sound at the end.
This weekend I learned the most charming demonym: Lisboeta. Meaning: a resident of Lisbon.
I’m pretty charmed by this grittier version of Barcelona, with its tiny wooden doorways shyly interrupting the candy-colored and tiled facades of the building that laze here along winding and narrow streets. And I love the herky-jerky old-fashioned streetcars whirring through these intimidate lanes. The black mosaic patterns decorating the white marble sidewalks littered with leaves from the outstretched trees above make me feel like I’m in some walking through some Gabriel García Márquez novel.
And I love the wild city gardens with the purple and white flowers springing up ad-hoc all over the place. The little wraught-iron fences can’t seem to contain the random, wild-growing flowers throughout the city. I love that there is this un-manicured quality to it all.
And the custard pastries everywhere only add to the mysterious quality of Lisbon: How can a pastry with no chocolate be so good?!? And how can it cost only 90 cents?!?
I have never felt called to be a fiction storyteller before, but I think someone with writing skills could be creative in that way here in Lisbon. There just seem to be a lot of novels unfolding here. Ambling on the walkways of the Castle St. George today, I couldn’t help but imagine the complicated and interesting kinds of people who could be living behind the penthouse French doors in the amazingly bright 17th-century city villas standing over the sea here. 
I even a saw a beautiful Lisboeta sitting in the windowsill of one villa, one leg dangling out the window against a marigold facade and the other folded against her chest. Dark wavy hair streaming past her shoulders, she perched in a fourth-floor windowsill absently people watching while some Spanish guitar music lilted out of the door. She could have been a novel cover.
Finally, I love that people cross the streets whenever they want here in Lisbon. It’s like they’re still explorers here. I feel so confined in places like the Netherlands where nobody crosses - cars or no cars - unless the light says it is OK.
Happy to be loose among the Lisboetas!