A few years ago, I was hanging out with some fellow post-colonial Africa historians (yes, we exist*), and one told a joke she had once heard:
As African countries began gaining their independence with uncertain futures ahead, Liberia looked at the group and said, "We've been at this for a century and are doing pretty OK. Plus, if anything were ever to go seriously wrong, we know the US will be there for us."
Mali, Cote d'Ivoire, Chad, and the other former French colonies said, "France hasn't always been the greatest to us, but we know they'll look out for our physical and economic security in the future."
Ghana, Kenya, Botswana, and the other former British colonies said, "We're doing well and don't need the UK, but it's nice to know she'll be there when we need her."
While traversing Lisbon, I had a weird series of interactions with guys trying to sell me all sorts of drugs, including marijuana and cocaine. One guy came near me while I was at an ATM and asked me why I would be taking out cash if I didn't intend to use it to buy drugs. Not only did I find the question odd, I found his hawking of drugs so near police and others a gutsy move, and it contributed to this grittiness I felt Portugal exude. It was as if the underground economy was coming above ground. In addition to those experiences, I was shocked by the lack of smiles I saw on people walking down the street (I'm currently reading Eric Weiner's The Geography of Bliss, so this caught my eye). I know smiling is not necessarily an adequate representation of a country's mood, but there was a stoic-ness in people's faces, postures, and auras.
All together, it felt like Portugal was just biding its time, obviously no longer what it used to be (both the positives and the negatives), but slowly working its way back to a position of prominence. Portugal didn't seem to be hiding its flaws, and as long as things didn't decline, they were improving. In some ways, it was a refreshing feeling. I enjoyed sensing reality on my walks and journeys, and I'd be really interested in returning some day to see how, if at all, Lisbon and Portugal have changed!
*My credentials for this category is my degree in International History with a focus on Poverty and Development, specifically in post-colonial sub-Saharan Africa. I also did intensive research and wrote an undergraduate thesis on the use of food as a tool of war in Mozambique.
**Portugal joins Oman with this distinction, and maybe Taiwan, although Taiwan is a weird case. For Portugal, in 1808, Dona Maria I of Portugal moved the royal court from Lisbon to Rio de Janeiro, where it remained until 1822. For Oman, in 1840, Said bin Sultan moved his capital from Muscat to Stone Town, Zanzibar, where it remained until 1856 when his sons couldn't decide who would succeed him, so they ended up dividing the country into the Sultanate of Oman and the Sultanate of Zanzibar. And finally, for Taiwan, the capital was in Nanjing until the government fled the mainland in 1949 and set up shop in Taipei.
As African countries began gaining their independence with uncertain futures ahead, Liberia looked at the group and said, "We've been at this for a century and are doing pretty OK. Plus, if anything were ever to go seriously wrong, we know the US will be there for us."
Mali, Cote d'Ivoire, Chad, and the other former French colonies said, "France hasn't always been the greatest to us, but we know they'll look out for our physical and economic security in the future."
Ghana, Kenya, Botswana, and the other former British colonies said, "We're doing well and don't need the UK, but it's nice to know she'll be there when we need her."
By the time Portugal finally relinquished control of its "overseas provinces" in 1974/75, Angola, Mozambique, Guinea-Bissau, Cabo Verde, and São Tomé and Príncipe looked at each other and said, "That's not fair! You guys have prosperous benefactors, and we have Portugal!"
Portugal may not be the sick man of Western Europe anymore (Greece probably takes that prize), but in my few days in Lisbon I noticed that there was a rawness--a grittiness, a power-through mentality--that I didn't necessarily feel in any other European country I've been to. I'll admit, my knowledge of Portugal was pretty limited before this trip, mostly based on (1) my research of Mozambique and Angola in college, (2) my fascination that Portugal is one of only two (maybe three, depending on how you look at it) countries in the world which has a former capital no longer in its territory**, and (3) perhaps the best storyline from Love Actually (see happy video below). This is not to say that my three days in Lisbon makes me an expert on Portugal, rather that my knowledge and appreciation for Portugal is now expanded and, by extension, I now better understand my fellow historian's joke.
So back to Portugal. In my days walking around the streets and neighborhoods of Lisbon, I discovered that remnants of a once-great empire are still visible. Some of the buildings have breathtaking facades with exquisite detail carved into them. Proud statues showcase each of Portugal's great kings, the ones that led Portugal to explore and conquer so much of the world. (Note: Yes, I recognize the many problems of Europeans conquering foreign lands, but you can hate colonialism and the "Age of Exploration" while still acknowledging the impressive feats of that era.) And the sidewalks have intricate designs befitting a country sparing no expense in showcasing its best side. But as nice as these features are, they are also dated, stuck in an era where tiled displays on the sides of building are a status symbol.
While traversing Lisbon, I had a weird series of interactions with guys trying to sell me all sorts of drugs, including marijuana and cocaine. One guy came near me while I was at an ATM and asked me why I would be taking out cash if I didn't intend to use it to buy drugs. Not only did I find the question odd, I found his hawking of drugs so near police and others a gutsy move, and it contributed to this grittiness I felt Portugal exude. It was as if the underground economy was coming above ground. In addition to those experiences, I was shocked by the lack of smiles I saw on people walking down the street (I'm currently reading Eric Weiner's The Geography of Bliss, so this caught my eye). I know smiling is not necessarily an adequate representation of a country's mood, but there was a stoic-ness in people's faces, postures, and auras.
All together, it felt like Portugal was just biding its time, obviously no longer what it used to be (both the positives and the negatives), but slowly working its way back to a position of prominence. Portugal didn't seem to be hiding its flaws, and as long as things didn't decline, they were improving. In some ways, it was a refreshing feeling. I enjoyed sensing reality on my walks and journeys, and I'd be really interested in returning some day to see how, if at all, Lisbon and Portugal have changed!
As alluded to earlier, Love Actually's storyline featuring Jamie (Colin Firth) and Aurelia (Lúcia Moniz) is my favorite. And while I recognize that this scene takes place in a Portuguese-dominated neighborhood near Marseilles and not in Lisbon, it's still a great scene and is relevant to this post about Portugal. I am also posting it here just in cases you have never seen it. :-)
**Portugal joins Oman with this distinction, and maybe Taiwan, although Taiwan is a weird case. For Portugal, in 1808, Dona Maria I of Portugal moved the royal court from Lisbon to Rio de Janeiro, where it remained until 1822. For Oman, in 1840, Said bin Sultan moved his capital from Muscat to Stone Town, Zanzibar, where it remained until 1856 when his sons couldn't decide who would succeed him, so they ended up dividing the country into the Sultanate of Oman and the Sultanate of Zanzibar. And finally, for Taiwan, the capital was in Nanjing until the government fled the mainland in 1949 and set up shop in Taipei.
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