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Lisbon's Own Queen

By Terje Raa

Gloria is the Queen of Elevadores - the lifts and funiculars that make it easier to ascend the hills of Lisbon. Disturbed by tunnel works underneath her tracks, Gloria is now on strike for at least six months, allowing her to be smartened up and take a rest, as is proper for a lady born in 1885.

Her official name is Ascensor da Gloria, Gloria Funicular. Actually, she has a twin sister who goes up when Gloria goes down and vice versa, both indispensable members of the Carris family, the local bus and tram company. Gloria was built for one particular route: the alley of Calcada da Gloria, 276 m long and with a slope of 17.7%. Gloria has over the years witnessed many a development, also in her fuel system: first water, then steam and in 1915 electricity.

Arrivals and departures depend on Gloria's judgement, taking into account an increasing restlessness among people. They always seem to be late and can't stop chatting in their mobile phones. The funicular's low level of comfort motivates rather frequent departures - only 22 out of 42 passengers get a seat. Being motorized, Gloria and her sister are in our days tireless, constantly receiving energy through overhead wires and with a cable to secure their balance.

Gloria's starting point is the central square of Praca dos Restauradores in downtown Baixa. Her destination is the upper district of Bairro Alto, at a vantage point with St George's Castle in sight opposite. Below the castle lies the old district of Alfama, profiting by Gloria's strike because tourists are uncertain whether alternative elevadores exist. There are competitors; the nearest is Elevador de Santa Justa, not a funicular but a lift. Elevador da Bica, down by the river, also connects to Bairro Alto - this is not the case for the last relative, Elevador do Lavra.

Royal Walk

Having seen so little of Lisbon through her own eyes, Gloria decides to seek out localities she only heard of. First stop is an old friend though: her take-off point at Restauradores. She must admit that her company does treat her respectfully. They put a huge blue box in her place, dominated by a picture showing how neat and fit she is, with windows framed by white and a lower section in yellow and blue. Her vital data, appearing on the side of the box, are eagerly studied by fans.

Gloria follows her tracks upward, looking back at downtown Baixa, an elegant Neoclassical city built from scratch after the Earthquake in 1755, which spared the higher districts of Bairro Alto and Alfama. Gloria never understood why people flock to the narrow streets of this old working class quarter in the evening. Her fears are soon confirmed: cozy alleys invaded by noisy people, eating and drinking at an assembly line of bars and restaurants, surrounded by graffiti and a confusion of music styles. Groups of elderly tourists have come to watch the party scene.

Several establishments advertise dinner with Fado, the famous Lisbon song tradition, a sound of melancholy normally created by a lady and a guitar or two, imitating the late Amalia Rodrigues, Queen of Fado, who popularized these songs worldwide. Gloria knows that Fado is often a tourist trap and walks away, all the way up to the square of Praca do Principe Real, to admire the mansions of the aristocracy, most of them offices nowadays - surrounding a park-like square. Under the light of a street lamp and roofed by the branches of an age-old cedar tree, a painter keeps adjusting his evening version of Lisbon, pleased yet very critical. Gloria is amused by the man's fascination with details, for in her own little extract of Lisbon, she's an expert herself in dwelling on details.

A pleasant atmosphere and overwhelming impressions have made Gloria tired and slightly sentimental. She begins to sing, first quietly to herself, in a voice dark with age, her face glowing with memories. She sings about all those years she had to remain at her post, how she longed to see the world, about acquaintances being over before they began, and with tears in her eyes about men who would not tolerate her ups and downs, but walked out of her life after a few minutes. People draw near to listen, some taking a break from the local gay bars.

Two Shrimps

There is a man waiting for Gloria, a poet who seldom leaves his room. She heard rumors that he sits at a cafe in Rua Garrett, where Bairro Alto is succeeded by Chiado, a fashionable district leading down to Baixa and reborn after a fire in 1998.  A famous coffee house, the old-fashioned A Brasileira, has tables in the street, one of which is made in bronze and always occupied by the smiling poet Fernando Pessoa. Inspired by Gloria's double identity, he reveals his passion; the creation of literary alter egos.

A young guy keeps swinging a long pole with fiery flames at either end, so unsteady that everybody takes care, except a smiling Fernando. It's time for Gloria to discover the Metro. The Baixa-Chiado station, accessible from Brasileira, takes her via escalators down to Baixa. Alfama is waiting at the other side; an old Moorish quarter, the inspiration of many a Fado song. Plain, compact and quiet, like a village in the city - gradually changing as wealthy people have laid their eyes on Alfama's potential. There is no real party scene, just simple taverns and bars, with or without Fado.

Cats and peacocks have waited vainly to give Gloria an overall view of Lisbon from the walls of St George, for it's dark now and the Castle is closed. Gloria returns to Baixa, stopping at Casa dos Bicos to study diamonds or rather diamond-shaped stones covering an entire facade. Anticipating a plate of rice covered by shrimps, she orders a portion of Arroz com Gambas at Solar dos Bicos. Two shrimps, both sprawling atop the
rice, may not be meant as a joke, but cause so much laughter that the waiters bring more Vinho Verde to celebrate Gloria's two shrimps themselves.

Back in central Baixa, Gloria catches tram 28, merely a stop or two. This is the most popular tram route, a pickpocket paradise, plowing through Alfama, Baixa and Bairro Alto as well. Gloria often imagined herself driving 28, just for a change and to test her special plan for the pickpockets: caught red-handed, they would be strapped down into certain seats equipped with strong belts, until the police picked them up at the end station.

Gloria finally looks for another facade, lavishly ornamented in the Manueline style, the Rossio Station, responsible for the tunnel works that made her go on strike. Finding the building wrapped up for restoration and nobody in charge, she proceeds to Carris, the company she works for. A despairing boss treats her like a queen when imploring her to come back. He's ready to comply with any wishes, and Gloria knows exactly what she wants, "Route 28 once a week!"

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