The shore at the other side.

by JOHN CAMPUZANO MARTINEZ (Colombia)

A leap into the unknown Portugal

Finally, 9 days after leaving the Caribbean island of St. Martin on board of the magnificent ship the Monarch, we arrived at the well-known port of Alfama in Lisbon. The previous night most of the passengers on the ship had not slept at all despite their accumulated exhaustion caused either because of the everyday seasickness, the nighttime celebrations or in most cases, a little bit of both. What was keeping everybody up was an excitement in the air, for some of the passengers, thanks to the fact of returning home after a long trip around South America and for others, like me, because of the emotion of stepping on the old continent for the very first time. Almost every single passenger was awake on the highest desk before the sun rose in the sky, admiring the majestic entrance to the city of Lisbon throughout the Tagus River, the longest river in the Iberian Peninsula. When the ship docked, I followed the other passengers in order to disembark, still with the strong feeling produced by the unknown of what to expect from my arrival in Portugal. We went down the stairs to the first of the twelve decks that were part of the ship, walked out off of it, and then along the gangplank that connected the exit at the port side of the hull to the pier. Immediately after having stepped on European land, I found myself surrounded by a really warm and friendly atmosphere; I was probably feeling this way because I was still with the group of folks that I had met during my days crossing the ocean and for whom the fact that this was my first time in Europe was producing a mixture of astonishment, funniness and for some reason, compassion. Once ashore, we lined up to exit the port. I was holding my passport in my hand and I was ready to go through immigrations to get my stamp but somehow this never happened. At the end of the line, I was already in the downtown of a city full of stunning ancient buildings with majestic architecture that was radiating the joy of the incoming Sardine Festival. I was not sure if, by mistake, I had skipped the strict migration control that everyone in Colombia had warned me about so I stopped just at the exit of the port and looked back to make sure I had not ignored any kind of control which could have escalated into a big issue afterwards. A police officer came towards us asking in that Portuguese that sounded so transparent to my Spanish ears, and in a quite polite way, to move on as not to stop the flow of people getting out: -"Por favor avance Senhor!" So there we were, me and my partners from the ship, sitting in a cafe in downtown Lisbon, watching in the distance the 25 de Abril bridge spanning the river, celebrating for our successful and full of memories journey of 12 days crossing the Atlantic Ocean departing from the port of Cartagena de Indias on May the 28th. My journey around Europe had just begun.