It's not uncommon to stumble upon a town or a city in North America that bears the name of a famous town or a city from somewhere else, mostly from Europe. And it always amazes me how different a real place and its North American namesake can be. I was driving through the northern part of New York state the other day, and in 20 minutes I saw three European capitals - Lisbon, Madrid, and Stockholm. If you try hard enough, you can find some similarities between that area and Scandinavia - rushing rivers, blue lakes, pine trees, and old rocks, but nothing resembled Portugal or Spain. Keep in mind: those places were named by early immigrants who probably never came back. Lucky us, we can now shoot pictures and videos, make phone calls and send instant messages, but those immigrants had nothing like that and must have been feeling really homesick if they gave names of their native towns and cities just to any place. So Lisbon, New York reminded me that I haven't yet shared my pictures and stories from the real Lisbon which I visited last year.

Among the very many things to experience in Belém, Portugal, there is one that clearly stands out and you absolutely don't want to miss it. It's called "pastel de nata", a pastry made from egg yolks using the original 200-year-old recipe from the nearby Jerónimos Monastery. And while egg tarts can be found in other parts of the world, a flaky pastel de Belém is so tender and delicious, especially with a cinnamon powder on top, you'll love it.

Cascais has it all - golden beaches, palm trees, big blue sky, rolling waves of the Atlantic Ocean, charming architecture and the best Portuguese food. And, this was my favourite, very few people compared to Lisbon and Sintra (I haven't visited the latter, but heard of its epic crowds). And you can easily reach it by train from downtown Lisbon in less than 50 minutes. Sounds attractive? Let's take a look.

I really enjoyed getting lost in Alfama, the oldest and the poorest neighbourhood in Lisbon. It resembled a gigantic maze with all its crooked backstreets, steep stairways, and tiny passages that make it difficult for two persons not to bump into each other. Over the centuries, Alfama grew organically or, I should say, chaotically with no particular structure and order. Maybe that's why it's the most authentic and beloved by many people part of Lisbon?