Seven Euros in Lisbon, Seven Memories
Landing mid-morning, someone rode the metro to a miradouro, bought a pastel de nata, and listened to two guitarists trading chords in the sun. A tram rattled past a blue-tiled wall, kids chased pigeons, and the Tagus flashed silver below. The budget tally remained tiny—metro, pastry, water—yet the sensory richness felt endless. Returning early meant an unhurried security line, a small souvenir at the gate, and a promise to return for a longer wander.