Imigrante

A final morning in Lisbon. I strolled in Martim Moniz and Anjos. A few days ago the Igreja (Church) de Nossa Senhora dos Anjos was flanked by dozens of tents and shelters used by the homeless. By today they had been removed, fences erected and a police presence installed. I hope the inhabitants of the tents had been treated humanely, but somehow I doubt this based on the vilification of the most poor in society.

This poster was stuck next to the front wall of the church, reminding lisboetas that não existe Portugal sem imigrante (Portugal doesn’t exist without immigrants). Central Lisbon is very diverse and makes this point very well.

I headed to the airport, drawing an end to two fantastic weeks in Portugal. The Uber driver was the most attractive man to have graced the planet, so it’s not all bad. On the plane journey, I was less pleased with my travelling companion. I was seated next to one of those inconsiderate arm and leg spreaders, so it was not my most comfortable period.