My sister Priscilla and I just came back from a week-long vacation in Portugal with lots of photos. I'll remember so many wonderful things about my trip to the cities of Lisbon and Porto, but one experience in particular sticks out, something that happened on our last night in Lisbon.
Before the trip, I put together a very detailed route of places to see. One of the must-visit places on my list was Livraria do Simao, the smallest bookstore in Lisbon. On our very first day in Lisbon, Priscilla and I searched for it. We found the oldest bookstore in the world. But the smallest one was impossible to find! Back at the hotel, where we had Wi-Fi, I looked the bookstore up again, hoping we'd have time to find it on another day. But our schedule was delayed, and we probably wouldn't have time to look for it.
On our last full day in Lisbon, Priscilla and I took a day trip to Cascais, a coastal town outside the city. We decided, at the last minute, to visit a historic flea market (跳蚤市场). We walked for about an hour, up many steep hills. When we finally reached the market, completely out of breath, all the sellers were closing up shop. Not to mention that we were both tired and hungry. Priscilla and I argued over the directions. I insisted we turn right, which ended up being another bad decision. We climbed up more steep hills, farther and farther away from any area we recognized. We made another right turn onto a random street and Priscilla stopped to check the map. Meanwhile, I looked up at the street sign, Rua da Madalena. I'd heard that name before. We continued a little farther up the street, and I spotted a few people hanging out in a lane. There was something particularly familiar about the scene. I looked closer. There was a small store practically hidden in the lane. It had books in its windows.
Paragraph 1:
Ohmygoodness!Thebookstore！
Paragraph 2:
Soon, itwastimeforustosaygoodbye.
