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Blueprint of Lisbon

By Terje Raa

Built on seven hills, Lisbon affords a series of vantage points, one of which suggests that the blueprint for Lisbon’s reconstruction - after the earthquake and tsunami of 1755 - imitates the layout of the human body.

Such an idea, if it holds water, must have been conceived in the mind of Marques de Pombal, Portugal’s foremost statesman. With inspiration from leading European capitals, he started an unprecedented urbanization project, based on Neoclassical design. Wide streets, each reserved for a certain trade, were laid out like a grid of straight lines, interrupted by open squares, buildings were grand and similar in style, everything part of symmetrical structures.

The new city lives on as Baixa, Lisbon downtown, often called Baixa Pombalina. It’s elegant and lively, so different from the narrow old quarters that survived the catastrophe, Alfama and Bairro Alto. Pombal created progress through economic and educational reforms dictated by himself. The Church was his special aversion, and the Jesuits were simply expelled from the country. To see Lisbon from this man’s point of view, you need only stroll up Avenida da Liberdade.

At Pombal Square, the end of the Avenida, the Marques keeps an eye on downtown Lisbon from his sky-high plinth, with a lion at his side and cars tirelessly circulating around him. His view can be imitated from the modest hilltop behind him, in Parque Eduardo VII, revealing an incredible symmetry: a gently sloping axis where trees, hills and buildings are equally distributed left and right. The saucer-shaped lawn up front has a geometrical pattern of low hedges, whose symmetry includes two synchronized lawn movers.

Verifiable Blueprint

The statue of Pombal coincides with that sloping axis, from this perspective all the way into the river Tejo. If  imagining him in a more horizontal position, with his feet resting by the river, his body and limbs could theoretically approximate the layout of the main streets and squares. Whether intended or not, the underlying blueprint does seem to have a likeness to the human body. Finding one’s bearings in Lisbon should become easier if the idea proved true, and it can easily be verified by locating the larger streets and squares.

An inner map would be practical when strolling down the Avenida, Lisbon’s Champs-Elysees, whose dimensions nearly engulf you: 1.6 km long, six lanes in the middle, broad promenades with trees, statues and benches on either side, followed by a belt of plantation and then another promenade, finally one single lane plus parking. In terms of a body model, this is the torso, an extra long one, protected against sunburn by shady treetops, belonging to plane trees and eucalyptus supported by singular palms.

The pleasant surroundings affect people differently, except car drivers who behave aggressively as always. Pedestrians slow down or take a break, the homeless get so tired they take a nap on the benches, even the window sills of Cafe Lisboa serve as beds. Amorous young ladies in supertight tights say “Hello” accompanied by kissing sounds. The arms of the Lisboan body are made up of wide sidewalks on either side, showing the way to luxury hotels, airline offices and banks, but are also prepared to give you a helping hand onto Restauradores.

Praca dos Restauradores is the waist of Lisbon, hard-pressed on both sides by intense traffic, and with stone mosaics resembling modern tattoos. A pigeon has dropped dead, but is already replaced by others atop the square’s landmark, an obelisk taking you back to 1640 when a revolt ended Spanish rule. The houses, although not spotless, wrap up Restauradores in an old-world atmosphere. More modern is an underground version of Lisbon, the Metro, one line following the same blueprint as the version on the surface, and accessible at Restauradores.

There are surprisingly few outdoor cafes. Young Liberty in a corner at the lower end is perfect for watching people and the bright blue tiles of Pensao Imperial opposite, at night tastelessly framed by flashing neon. Gloria is easily the most famous of those present, normally attending her funicular function by transporting admirers up to the quarters of Chiado and Bairro Alto. But Gloria takes a break these days, at least half a year, inside a specially made box with all her vital data printed on the sides.

Swaying Hips

Immediately after Restauradores, Lisbon sways the hips slightly leftward to match the squares of Rossio and the adjacent Figueira. You look in vain for the name Rossio, as the official name of Lisbon’s most popular square is Praca Pedro IV, the latter looking down from his royal plinth to enjoy Rossio’s patinated facades, except the Manueline charms of Rossio Station, at present under restoration. Fountains cry for water, which the huge waves of an amazing tile pattern can do without, still washing toward Teatro Nacional, once seat of the Inquisition.

Figueira, neatly sized and square in shape, is also framed by aging buildings, a harmony disturbed by parked cars. Several bus and tram lines start from here, among them a fast tram to Belem, number 15. King Joao I on his horse has everything under control, and in case teenage skaters should encircle him, he calls for assistance from St George Castle on the nearest hilltop. Ascending up there would take you through the old Alfama quarter, where the melancholy of a Fado song might tickle your ear.

The legs of Lisbon are really well-kept and held in light colors, identical with the rows of houses lining the narrow Rua Augusta, a shopping and restaurant street. A polished floor of dark patterns on whitish flagstones attracts artists as well. The yellow tram seems to be their favorite motif, often appearing on otherwise black and white drawings. A tall young guy has apparently lost his personal blueprint; a collapsed white skeleton lying on the ground. Confronted with people who do not believe their own eyes, he just smiles awkwardly.

Lisbon’s feet are found under a triumphal arch at the entrance to its most impressive square, Praca do Comercio, facing the river. Uniform public buildings on three sides, painted yellow and with beautiful arcades, tempt the homeless. They may in fact be here to apply for a job in the ministries of Justice, Defense or Agriculture, another possibility is the Lisbon Welcome Center. Red old trams, a color reserved for excursions, nearly drown in Crash, an exhibition exposing young people to simulated car accidents, probably the proper home of the skeleton.

The human shape of Lisbon is quite obvious and is perhaps why it appears masculine at one point and feminine the next. The yellow tram, the old and original model, could exemplify both: It comes spurting through an empty street after dark, strong and literally sparkling with energy, at the same time ladylike in its yellow makeup, and it can’t help squeaking, “Ain’t I pretty!”

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