From above

The place we'd been recommended for breakfast was shut but the small bar opposite looked fine. Except that someone had just ordered everything on the menu. We were still waiting hopefully for an outside table and a coffee when the original place opened. We crossed the road and found a hipster heaven with prices to match. Perhaps tomorrow we just learn patience.

Past a group of spidermen (extra), past the cathedral teeming with tour groups and down to Praça do Comércio - a fabulously elegant square whose fourth side is the river. I remember water-sided squares in Venice and in Thessaloniki but this one understands water best.

Then north through Baixa in rising heat (25 degrees, 26, 27 - I can see why Praça do Comércio embraces water so whole-heartedly - this city must be punishing in August). I queued for a magnificent 1901 wrought iron lift that elevates walkers to Chiado then continued my exploration upwards, just walking where my feet took me and checking from time to time where I was on the map. Up to another viewpoint - I am gradually creating my own top-down map of this city - then precariously down through narrow streets with small square setts worn shiny by millions of feet. They look treacherous but I haven't seen anyone slip.

This evening, Fado music once again wailed in through the window. I remember from working two floors above 8-hours-a-day of buskers in Oxford that only the worst of the music heads upwards so we decided to wander the streets and give it a chance. Alfama is full of restaurants charging eye-watering prices to people who want to dine with live Fado singers, men and women, and we walked past the open doors of several. The one I liked best was the one we'd been told was 'authentic' rather than 'touristy', but that could have been because there was only the sound of conversation, and no music. Sorry - not persuaded by Fado.