Joyce is sawing logs. She slept well last night but had not for several nights prior and was pretty tuckered out when we finally crashed after dinner last night. I started out watching Portuguese TV but passed out. The flights were all uneventful but we did spend some time on the tarmac in Madrid because the Portuguese air traffic controllers are on strike.
After napping a few hours at the hotel, we set off on foot for the tour bus depot where we caught an open air vehicle that whisked us around parts of Lisbon. It was interesting. Sort of. Fatigue makes me less appreciative of most things and graffiti-coated cities look like, well, graffiti-coated cities. We visited St George’s castle, which was more of a fort. The accompanying literature said the king didn’t stay in the castle unless he was hiding from invaders. It had a good view of the surrounding area, as any well-thought out fort would. One had to step carefully to keep from tripping over the cobblestones.
On the way back to the hotel we stopped at a sidewalk cafe, one of many, for dinner. Joyce, Betsy and I had the cod. We don’t know about Betsy but Joyce and I had entre remorse when we saw the nice steak Bryant ordered. The cod tasted OK but was a bit rubbery.
We’re going to transfer to the ship in a couple of hours. I’m looking forward to staying put for a few days. That is, not having to tote my bags and dig through them for my clothes. I packed the Samsonite suitcase Dad gave me when I was a teenager (was he trying to give me a hint?) since I had to pack a suit and a sport coat so as to be properly dressed for dinner on our yacht. It makes it obvious why they started putting rollers on suitcases.