Biarro Alto

Another periodic look at one of my most memorable photos over the last few years (although I must confess - I didn't take this one)...

This photo was taken by the Sergeant Major on the steep slope up to the Biarro Alto (I took this to mean 'beer district' but apparently it actually means 'high district') in the Portugese capital of Lisbon. 

The cast were (I think) right to left: The Artist, myself, The Nurse, The City Worker, and the Lawyer.

There were some good times had at the top of this hill, including playing street football with a couple of Brazilian teenagers (who put us seriously to shame!), watching Portugal play in the World Cup in the bars during the day, drinking Sangria all night, and people milling around in the streets until sunrise.

One of my friends 'The Artist' probably has some more vivid memories than most of this street. This street was the precise street that he got mugged. 

The Artist doesn't have much luck when it comes tour our little holidays - in fact you might have heard me mention The Artists close encounter with a moped in Slovenia(a year earlier). The year we went to Lisbon was no different. 

He had decided to walk home early on the Sunday (our last night) and was heading down the hill when he was confronted by a couple of locals with knives. He did what any sensible person would do ... he ran for it. Unfortunately as it turned out, his assailants ran quicker. This surprised us  - as to us, the Artist was the fastest man alive. We used him as a kind of 'Forrest Gump' during our interform rugby years. I guess time had taken its toll.

He found himself bereft of his mobile phone and wallet (anyone who knows The Artist would realise that the value of those items was probably a princeley 53p). And for some reason became exceptionally annoyed when (after spending the entire evening in the police station), we rolled back into the hostel room after an outrageous nights partying (including persuading a number of dancers in a club to do the world cup Peter Crouch robot dance) and didn't believe that he had actually been mugged.

The next year, the Artist was pickpocketed in Valencia - but that is a different story...