Enjoy the things you have

~littlejohn

A few weeks ago I was in Lisbon, a city I was fortunate enough to visit for the second time. It was as beautiful and as refreshing as I remember it from my first visit, many years ago, and I'm still struggling to find the words to say how much I loved that place and how much joy it gives me and how much I want to be back, long after I left it.

One thing, and one thing only, cast an ugly shadow over my happy days. One of favourite places in Lisbon is gone.

It was a tiny neighbourhood restaurant I remember from my last visit, one of those places that can rebuild hope in humanity in just five minutes. I walked into it all these years ago and nobody there spoke anything but Portuguese, and I spoke absolutely no Portuguese except for yes, no, and thank you. I was extraordinarily awkward. I simultaneously just *knew* that was a place where I could understand not what this great city was, or what the Ministry of Culture wants us to think it was, but what this great city *is*. But I was also quite obviously the only tourist there and I didn't want to intrude. Everyone was super kind to me and we got along and I came back pretty much every day during my stay. I *think* I managed to introduce myself to the nice gentleman who kept the place on my last day. Between us, we spoke just enough English and Portuguese for me to hopefully say how much I loved his place and his food (or that I like to eat carrots on potato beaches, I'm... not completely sure I got all the words right?), and for him to ask me if I liked Lisbon (which I did!) and when my flight was (and I said it was the next day, but that I'll be back!).

To this day, I do not know if he understood what I meant -- that I would be back *in Lisbon*, at some point, or if he thought I meant I'd be back before my plane leaves. I hope it was the former, or at least, if it was the latter, that he did not wait for me and, disappointed at my not keeping my word, he did not just chalk me up as another entitled tourist.

A few weeks ago, before I left, I was sure that he'd forgotten about me after all this time (so even if he *did* chalk me up as one more entitled tourist, the disappointment passed quickly). Unfortunately, I'll never know. I saw the real estate agent's sign in his window from a distance. The place is closed.

I tried asking about the restaurant or the owner at the shop near the restaurant, but nobody knew much except that the restaurant had closed after one of the COVID lockdown rounds. I wanted to ask at the restaurant across the street but I figured that would be a little nasty ("hey I'm sure your food is great but uh, actually, I can't stay, I actually just wanted to ask about this *other* restaurant across the street from you?"). I swallowed my "Reddit is shite" pride and tried asking about it in /r/Lisboa but I think they have a karma threshold and my newly-made account doesn't, uh, have much, and I've long deleted the one I used like ten years ago.

I didn't even care about the place *that* much, I mean sure, it was a very nice restaurant with very good food but this is Lisbon, there are good places to eat *everywhere*. I just wanted to know if that nice gentleman was okay. The place had a gloomy air to it. There were cans and bottles of soda in the fridges and a six-pack of water bottles on a table with one of the bottles missing. It looked like someone had packed up and closed the place on a Wednesday evening, but never got back on Thursday morning to open it again. And while the guy definitely looked in shape for his age, his age was also definitely in the sixties or seventies so it's... a little terrifying.

I just hope he's okay, you know? It was a small restaurant that closed early and I don't think anyone but people from that street and the occasional tourist stopped to eat there. No way it brought that much income -- I keep hoping he just figured it's just not worth keeping it open with this nasty virus going 'round and he closed it for good and is now sipping mojitos someplace warm, or watching the game on TV. Worst-case scenario, sure, the place got closed, like so many others, and he just decided retirement is way better when you only cook for yourself.

The feeling that it's something worse keeps gnawing at me but I know I'm pretty powerless about it. I barely know anyone from Lisbon, I've exhausted all my avenues, and besides, there *is* such a thing as basic privacy and decency. If the people at the shop next to that restaurant didn't know what happened to it, maybe the guy just didn't want others to know what happened to it.

Either way, though, it's always going to be one of my happy places, and a reminder of how this world of ours is both so big *and* so small. A small restaurant no one's ever heard of closes down somewhere and someone else, thousands of kilometres away, finds out about it and is saddened by it. (And by "saddened" I mean "cries like a little baby", snot and everything, because I wanted to meet the man again so badly, and greet him in Portuguese and tell him how now I cook every single dish I ate there at home, too, and how every time someone I knew went to Lisbon I'd tell them *YOU HAVE TO COME HERE FOR LUNCH* and they came back and hated me because they got fat but they just couldn't stop eating, and how, from all of Lisbon, this beautiful city with a hundred monuments and cathedrals and beautiful parks and artists' workshops, his tiny place was dearest to me).

Enjoy the things you have, folks. You never know how long they last.