Lisbon rewards the walker and punishes the planner. This is a rough shape for two days that leaves room for the city to interrupt you. Every stop below exists as audio on the street itself; this is the written version.
Start above the city, not in it. The tiled terrace is empty at this hour and the whole of Alfama lays itself out below you — the route you're about to walk, visible in one glance.
Head downhill and let the lanes decide. This is where Ansi earns its keep — the stories trigger as you pass: the fado house, the earthquake line on the church wall, the grocer who is also the neighborhood's memory.
Skip anything with a photo menu. The right room has paper tablecloths, a handwritten dish of the day, and a television nobody watches. Order the fish.
Go early, go hungry, and start at the fruit stalls where the restaurant buyers shop. The audio here is a produce seller explaining forty years of the market in four minutes.
Two flat kilometers with the Tagus on your left. This is the stretch to ask Ansi the questions you've been saving — the bridge, the docks, why the light here looks the way it does.
Yes, the famous ones. No, not at a table. Counter, two pastries, cinnamon, done in six minutes — the way the neighborhood actually eats them.
Finish the weekend the way you started it — above the city, earbuds in, letting the last story play out while the lights come on.