Story from Vijay

Last summer, I booked a solo trip to Lisbon my first time venturing out alone after a hectic year in London slightly traumatic with an ending of a long term relationship The plan was simple: wander the Alfama district, stuff myself with pastéis de nata, and catch a sunset at Miradouro da Senhora do Monte. No drama, just some much needed recharge time.But on day two, as I was navigating the steep cobbled streets with my map app glitching (thanks, spotty Wi-Fi), I took a wrong turn and ended up in a tiny, hidden courtyard off Rua dos Remédios. It looked like something out of a fairy tale vines climbing old azulejo tiled walls, laundry flapping in the breeze, and an elderly lady sitting on a stool, peeling oranges. She waved me over with a smile, and before I knew it, I was roped into helping her prepare for a family gathering. My Portuguese is basically non-existent (Duolingo failed me), but through gestures and Google Translate, I learned her name was Maria, and she was hosting her extended family for a spontaneous sardine grill.What started as a polite “obrigado” turned into an afternoon of chopping veggies, flipping fish on a makeshift barbecue, and toasting with homemade vinho verde. Her grandkids showed up, blasting fado music from a phone, and suddenly I was part of this lively, chaotic feast. No tourist traps, no itinerary; just pure, unfiltered Portuguese hospitality. It was the highlight of my trip, far better than any viewpoint or pastry. That unexpected detour reminded me why I travel: for the plot twists that turn strangers into friends.