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Algarve |
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Made in Britain
• 11 Oct 2007 •
THERE’S always something to enjoy on a trip to Lisboa. In six years of living in the Algarve, we’ve been many times but last week when we went there, it was the first time we had travelled on a tram – Tram 28 to be exact - which makes its glorified journey up and down the steep hills of the Alfama.
Although it’s the normal form of public transport used by locals, some guidebooks proclaim it to be one of the most interesting tram journeys in Europe. They are not wrong.
I’ve never been anywhere quite like it in my life with tumble-down residential streets, so narrow – about one metre wide – that by leaning out of the open tram window it’s possible to touch the houses’ walls.
Few cars attempt to negotiate the tiny alleys and hairpin bends and, for safety sake, pedestrians would benefit from being roped together as they climb the slippery cobbles.
The trams have clung their way, ascending and descending these almost sheer gradients, for more than 90 years. Built in Britain in the early 1900s, their shiny wooden interiors and leather straps hanging from the ceiling have stood the test of time. Not to mention the equipment which transfers electricity from the overhead wires to the motor hung beneath the tram. The driver – in our case a woman – only controls the stop-start mechanism and the speed, since the tram steers itself along the metal tracks. In an era when most vehicles have a lifespan of around 30 years or less, these British trams are vintage.
How appropriate, therefore, that they should be trundling their way through Lisboa’s most historic district, first built up by the Moors more than a thousand years ago. Although none of the houses date from that time, the layout of the district does, some streets resembling a Moroccan kasbah.
In more recent years, since the trams were installed, what became a high-class residential district in the 18th and 19th centuries has gradually declined. Now it houses mostly less well-off older people and immigrants from the Portuguese colonies. Cellar clubs advertise music from Brazil, Mozambique and Cape Verde, played by funky locals.
The career of Portugal’s most colourful fado singer, Mariza, took off in the self-same clubs. Mozambican born, when she and her family moved to Lisboa, they were accommodated on the outskirts of the Alfama.
There is something shabby chic about the now dilapidated houses perched on either side of the alleyways, some so steep that they are lined with flights of steps. Many of them offer fantastic birds’ eye views of the River Tejo.
Like previously run-down areas of New York and London’s East End, the Alfama seems ripe for development and would probably attract a young, well-heeled and trendy set.
Amongst the dereliction there are remnants of grand architecture, bright tiled panels of fine quality azulejoes and filigree wrought iron balconies and window grills. In several places, in full view of the river, nobility built their homes. The Counts of Azurara constructed a palace and Brás de Albuquerque, son of the Viceroy of India, owned one of the most fashionable houses. Carriages pulled by sure-footed horses or teams of strong mules must have serviced homes resplendent with their owners’ wealth.
In due course, as the rich selected to live in other more up-and-coming districts, the poor moved in.
Over a period of a thousand years, without doubt, the greatest measure of convenience for residents has been the introduction of the British tram.
When the system was installed, no-one could have predicted that almost a hundred years later it would become a tourist attraction. Tram 28 has a remarkable advantage, being able to take people to see some of the most interesting places that are completely inaccessible to visitors travelling on a sight-seeing bus. | Return to Top
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