A Long Weekend in Lisbon: Trams, Tiles and Too Many Pastéis de Nata

Every time someone in Madrid says “I need a break but I don’t have time for a real trip”, I say the same thing: Lisbon. It’s close, it’s gentle, the food is wonderful, and you come back with calves of steel from all the hills. That’s not a fitness claim. That’s a warning.

I went for a long weekend, three nights, with a small backpack and no real plan. Here’s what I did and what I’d tell a friend.

Getting there from Madrid

The flight is just over an hour, so it’s the easy option: leave after work on Thursday, have dinner in Lisbon. From the airport the metro takes you into the centre without drama. If you prefer to stay on the ground, there are bus and train connections too, but they take most of the day and the routes change, so check what’s running before you plan around it.

Small thing that always confuses me: Portugal is one hour behind Spain. The first morning I woke up “late” and it was actually early. Chévere, more time for breakfast.

Trams and hills

Lisbon is built on hills, and the old yellow trams climb them like it’s nothing. Tram 28 is the famous one, rattling through Graça, Alfama and Baixa, and yes, it gets very full. My tip: ride it early in the morning, or get on near the start of the line. Or just walk part of the route. Honestly, some of my favourite moments were following the tram tracks on foot and getting a bit lost in Alfama, where the streets are so narrow you can hear someone cooking lunch through the window.

There are also the funiculars and the old street lift that save your legs on the steepest bits. I used a rechargeable transport card for all of it, which made life simple.

Wear comfortable shoes. The pavements are those beautiful little white and black stones, calçada, and they are slippery when they’re polished or wet. I learned this in sandals. Ay.

Azulejos everywhere

The tiles. Mira, I could have spent the whole trip just looking at walls. Whole building fronts covered in blue and white, green, yellow, patterned, painted with scenes. Every street has at least one façade that makes you stop.

If you love them as much as I do, the national tile museum is worth a morning. It’s in an old convent, a bit outside the centre, and it’s calm and quiet in a way that felt very me. Otherwise, just walk around Alfama, Mouraria and Príncipe Real and look up.

The pastel de nata situation

I’m not going to tell you how many I ate. I’m going to tell you the right way to eat one: warm, with cinnamon and a little icing sugar on top if they offer it, standing at the counter with a small, strong coffee. The pastry should shatter, the custard should be just set and a bit burnt on top.

Everyone goes to the famous old bakery in Belém, and it’s worth it once, the queue moves fast. But some of the best ones I had were from little neighbourhood cafés where nobody was taking photos. Except me. Obviously.

Miradouros at golden hour

Lisbon has viewpoints, miradouros, all over the city, and each one feels like a small reward for climbing. My favourites were Senhora do Monte, high up and wide, and Santa Luzia, with the bougainvillea and the tiles and the view over Alfama down to the river. São Pedro de Alcântara is lovely at sunset too.

I made it a little ritual: every evening, a different miradouro, something cold to drink, and nowhere to be. The river goes pink, the rooftops go orange, and the whole city seems to slow down with you.

What I’d do again

Three nights is perfect. One neighbourhood per day, no more. Lunch as the big meal, because the lunch menus in small tascas are wonderful. A day trip to the coast if the weather is good. And leave room for doing nothing on a bench with a view, because that’s what Lisbon is best at.

I came home tired, happy, a little sunburnt, with a box of pastéis de nata on my lap on the plane. Obrigada, Lisboa. I’ll be back very soon.