What more can I express? We caught a fleeting glimpse of it from a side angle during our Uber ride from the Lisbon airport to our hotel situated in the heart of Lisbon, Portugal. I couldn’t help but exclaim, “I want to visit that!” much like a child who spots an exhilarating amusement park ride for the very first time. And so with that I suddenly came up with the buddy rules for the two of us. From then on, we would each come up with our very own “Buddy Rules”.
These rules now serve for us as a playful framework for navigating our own home life social interactions, shared experiences, adventures or travels.
Little Buddy Rule #1: The closest experience to doing absolutely nothing is merely walking. So, do your best to keep up! ME TO HER
Our Uber driver, originally from India, attempted to explain that it’s essentially just a colossal elevator. Later, I took the initiative to look it up and discovered that it is the illustrious Elevador de Santa Justa.
This remarkable structure is designed in the same architectural style as the famous Eiffel Tower in France. Notably, Adolf Hitler visited this elevator in 1940, and as Paris was on the verge of being overtaken by the Allies in 1944, he ordered the complete demolition of the city. And of course that never happened, because one of his Generals took the initiative to do the right thing.
Little Buddy Rule #2: Start each day with a smile and a positive mindset.
In Seattle, we boast the iconic Space Needle, while in Los Angeles, there’s the historic Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum. The coliseum holds international significance as it served as the centerpiece for both the 1932 and 1984 Summer Olympic Games. Since the 1920s, it has been a prominent venue for various sporting and civic events. The Space Needle in Seattle is notable for being constructed for the 1962 World’s Fair, which celebrated the theme of the Age of Space.
Recently, India achieved a remarkable milestone by landing an unmanned spacecraft on the moon, becoming the fourth nation to accomplish this feat. Russia was the pioneer, followed by the United States, then China, and now India. It’s fascinating to think that it all began with a World’s Fair!
Little Buddy Rule #3: Make sure to take the time to shop, even if it’s merely window shopping. This little buddy rule came as a result of me wanting to stop to visit swap meets, flea markets, antique shops and farmers markets. Little Buddy don’t like to shop.
Today, we continue to push the boundaries of speed, and I eagerly anticipate riding that bullet train. The sign regarding the monument informs us that Lisbon endured a catastrophic earthquake in 1755.
At that time, the United States was not yet an officially recognized country. In the USA, we commemorate July 4, 1776, as the birth of the United States of America, as it marks the day when the founding fathers formally signed the Declaration of Independence from British rule.
Little Buddy Rule #4: Travel More
Travel has a profound impact on the mind, body, and soul, offering a blend of enrichment, rejuvenation, and transformation—something my mother understood in her own unique way. My mother, her name was Esther; and boy was she a shopper, though she rarely bought much, and now I see why. For her mind, travel—even a simple bus ride—was a powerful stimulant. It broke the monotony of her daily routine, exposing her to new sights, sounds, and people. Whether it was a different neighborhood or a distant town, these journeys broadened her worldview, sharpened her curiosity, and helped her adapt to the unfamiliar. Studies suggest that experiencing novelty—through fresh landscapes, overheard conversations, or the bustle of a new market—boosts cognitive flexibility and creativity. For her, it was like a mental reset, pulling her out of the ordinary and into a space of heightened awareness, where every window view, flea market or farmer’s market or passing face held a story.
For my mother’s body, travel was both a challenge and a refreshment, even if her adventures were modest. Physically exploring new places—whether it was strolling through a busy flea market, wandering the aisles of a quirky store, or simply stepping off the bus into a new corner of the city—engaged her senses and kept her moving. It wasn’t about grand exertion like hiking mountains or trekking cobblestone streets; for her, it was the gentle thrill of adjusting to a different rhythm, maybe the sway of the bus or the crisp air of a place she’d never been. That shift in scenery and pace seemed to ease her stress, as if the hum of a new environment triggered a quiet relaxation response. I can imagine how even the anticipation of one of her little trips—planning which shops to visit, even if she’d come home empty-handed—lifted her spirits, sending a ripple of endorphins through her. For her body, those outings were a subtle, joyful lift, a way to feel alive in motion.
For the soul, travel touches something deeper. It’s a journey inward as much as outward, offering moments of awe—think of standing before a vast ocean or an ancient ruin—that reconnect you to a sense of purpose or wonder. It strips away the familiar, inviting reflection and self-discovery. Meeting people from different walks of life can cultivate empathy and gratitude, while solitude in a foreign place might spark spiritual clarity. It’s a chance to feel alive, untethered from everyday roles, and aligned with something bigger.
In essence, travel rewires you: it expands the mind, energizes or soothes the body, and nourishes the soul with meaning and connection. It’s a holistic experience that lingers long after the journey ends.
At this moment, there is only one person interested in going around the world, and that’s not Patti. This little buddy rule came up as a result of me taking an old trawler that I found in Portland, Oregon, fixing it up and naming it the Western Flyer.
It was my desire to follow in the wake of the Steinbeck and Ricketts expedition down the Sea of Cortez. From there, it took hold as I embraced the idea of the Great Circle Loop by boat. Since then, it evolved into going around the world on a motorcycle—that is, until I totaled the Little Klondike in Canada. Who knows? It could still happen.
Regrettably, I never had the chance to see the elevator up close and personal, as we had to leave early the following morning for a scheduled fast train ride to Burgau.
My current thoughts revolve around the fact that having a giant elevator still in operation is quite remarkable. The enormous structure was designed by Raoul Mesnier de Ponsard, who was an admirer of Gustave Eiffel. I wish I could show you a picture of it, but unfortunately, I don’t have one.
The next time we find ourselves in Lisbon, we will likely ride the lift up to the observation deck and take in the breathtaking views over Baixa. This elevator can comfortably accommodate 20 individuals at a time, which is roughly equivalent to ten Americans. OK don’t hate me here, just telling it real!
The nearest cruise ship is not too far away, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they enjoyed an extravagant midnight buffet. Ponsard would surely be proud of that!
As soon as we board our flight from Lisbon to Paris, we noticed subtle yet significant changes, such as noticeable variations in people’s heights and even their widths.
Little Buddy Rule #5:
We must always remember to view ourselves as a unified whole, recognizing that our strength and identity lie in our collective spirit, for no one else is truly invested in the intricacies of our individual interests.
In a world that often overlooks the personal dreams, struggles, and aspirations that shape who we are, it falls upon us to stand together, to see ourselves not as isolated fragments but as a cohesive entity bound by shared purpose and mutual care—such as the journey of growing older.
As the years accumulate, we face the inevitable shifts of time: the creasing of skin, the slowing of steps, the deepening of wisdom earned through experience. Yet, in this shared passage, we find a common thread that ties us closer, a reminder that aging is not a solitary burden but a collective rite.
By supporting one another through these changes, we transform what could be a isolating drift into a powerful bond, honoring both our individual stories and the unity that sustains us as we move forward together.
I now glance down at my belly and thank God I can still see my size 12 feet. Unfortunately, the men’s restroom at the Portuguese airport now carries an unpleasant odor of urine. It seems that no upgrades have been made to the passenger terminal since possibly WWII. The ergonomics of the entire terminal resemble those of a 1950s Chevrolet. And this is the place that the little woman discovered macaroons!!!!
Now, we face an eight-hour time zone change, and I’m doing my utmost to acclimatize fully before our motorcycle adventure starts in Madrid, Spain.
As of this morning, I’ve already indulged in two triple shots of espresso, one café con leche, and a delightful zumo (orange juice).
When I referred to it as “jugo” to the elderly woman at the counter—a Spanish word I knew for juice—she looked at me with wise, experienced eyes that had witnessed the passage of one or two world wars and corrected me, saying “zumo.” So, a zumo it is! But, deep deep down in my Miami sort of way I know that what I was now drinking was not a sumo but, a jugo!
“Alright,” I said, “and please add four of those tempting little yellow custard cup devils and a chocolate croissant to my order.” I would have continued ordering more delectable pastries to savor and share, but I was uncertain about the total cost. I was pleasantly surprised when the bill amounted to what one would willingly pay for a senior-sized coffee and a McBiscuit sausage and egg sandwich at McDonald’s.
At this moment, I’m feeling quite wired, and that’s probably an understatement. I can distinctly hear my heart racing after recently climbing four flights of stairs in motorcycle riding boots. Yes, I’m walking about a foreign airport in motorcycle boots. They’re comfortable and besides too difficult to try and fit in my luggage.
The elevator is quite tiny and can accommodate just two individuals or one American along with a carry-on bag. Sorry, here I go again. Can’t hep it!
Paul Theroux expresses his disdain for the inclusion of foreign words in his travel writings, claiming it detracts from the experience.
Freddy and Roberto 2 from Mexico City are now urging me to start writing my blog in Spanish. WHAT! I recently just began to figure out this language.
“Ay, Madre mía! ¿Qué hago?” I’m struggling enough as it is, guys!
I now find myself at a loss for an English term to describe a comedor. A comedor is precisely what I desperately need right now as I come down from my sugar and caffeine high.
A comedor is a place where one can eat, akin to a restaurant but not grand enough to qualify as an actual restaurant, and NO, it’s not a café.
Earlier today, I downloaded an Omio train app to purchase our train tickets. While the little woman enjoyed a leisurely sleep-in, I continued my research. For reasons beyond my control, in my airplane-lagged, caffeine-fueled, time zone-deprived state, I mistakenly believed that when our train came to a halt, it would somehow magically switch tracks and continue on to our next destination. I was wrong. Blame on anything but me, like the jet lag or caffeine induced high or whatever, that train should’ve been more predictable.
Patti was becoming increasingly anxious as the train began to move again. I briefly contemplated tossing her off, similar to how Ethan Hunt and the enigmatic thief Grace did when their train was slowly pulled over a damaged bridge. If you haven’t seen Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part 1, then obviously none of what I just mentioned will resonate with you. And just so you know, I didn’t toss her off.
Fortunately, we successfully disembarked at the next unintended station. Thank God for the international phone plan and for Uber.
Incredibly, only three minutes passed before Moises from Tunes, Portugal, arrived in what resembled a clown car. During our ride, we engaged in conversation about his newly adopted country, its people, a touch of history, the weather, the economy, motorcycle riding, and even some discussions on climate change. My Spanish is making a comeback— not yet perfect, but certainly good enough.
Our original intent (Patti’s and mine) was to hop on a fast train, akin to a bullet train, but I unfortunately ended up at the incorrect ticket booth. Maybe you’re starting to see a pattern here but, NO. My Portuguese skills still require considerable improvement.
As we hurtled along the train tracks, our economy flight on Air France must have aged me a solid five years or so. For the little woman, perhaps two or three years. The landscape outside was gradually becoming more picturesque, with slender pine trees lining the tracks. The Portuguese countryside is currently experiencing its second consecutive year of drought. Next month marks the beginning of their rainy season.
Yet, the train continued to crawl past numerous whitewashed dwellings, each adorned with the obligatory Euro graffiti at every train stop.
Surprisingly, there were no homeless encampments, no abandoned shopping carts, no drugged-out individuals, nor any discarded waste or garbage anywhere in sight. It was astonishingly normal.
Back home, we often attribute the chaos of failed areas to mental illness and drug addiction. Maybe they don’t have any mental illness here or maybe they didn’t close them all down like around the time of Reagan.
France once faced a similar dilemma, which they addressed by marrying off unattractive prostitutes to overcrowded jailhouse convicts. They were then shipped all the way to New Orleans. Eventually, they packed up and moved on to Texas. And the rest, as they say, is just good old Americana history. And you thought I was going to say Australia didn’t you?
Little Buddy Rule #6: When one person is “hangry,” and the other isn’t be mindful of their blood/sugar levels, it’s crucial for them to take care of themselves.
All the knowledge I possess about Portugal comes from YouTube. We recently returned from what felt like a near-midnight buffet (just kidding). We continue to stroll around at night and feel entirely safe—something I can’t easily imagine doing back home. My Spanish is now universally understood. And don’t forget Mexico—we feel entirely safe walking around at night there too!
The Buddy Rules mentioned above are simply a way we keep each other grounded. We have amassed dozens of them thus far but, somehow I deleted the file so, we’ve started collecting them again. Maybe you too can come up with some buddy rules to share with me.
The electric stove in our room is proving to be a conundrum, and unfortunately, the cups do not fit under the off-brand Keurig-style coffee maker. Which means only one thing, get dressed, step outside and smell the air for coffee, then head in that direction. Adios! Rafael (Ralph)
Portugues Coast – and no, not on a Camino this time.
My morning started earlier than usual today on account of updating to a newer iPhone 16 plus.
I hope you’re enjoying the expanded blog. If so don’t forget to subscribe.
Ralph
Trawlercat Chronicles 