![]() As the trams pass, they trace a yellow, numbered furrow through the air, and minute by minute the streets begin to people themselves once more. In the light morning mist of mid spring the Baixa comes sluggishly awake and even the sun seems to rise only slowly…A few passers-by signal the first hesitant stirrings of life in the streets and high up at a rare open window the occasional early morning face appears. Lisbon’s charming sleepiness, I discovered, was not unique to me: The most jarring noise comes from the ancient “eléctricos,” the name for the creamy yellow trams that screech up the hills. The people tend to walk soundlessly through the streets, and the cars silently creep their way up and down the many hills. ![]() The first thing to notice about Lisbon is its relative quiet. ![]()
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