Seldom do I travel anywhere in Europe and not hear an English voice, so as I sat, on Tuesday night, in a Lisbon bar, I was transfixed by the scene around me.
There were tables of Portuguese, talking, laughing, drinking and to my biggest surprise, smoking.
The scene took me right back to one of my first family holiday memories, the time before us Brits invaded most places in Spain.
I was sitting in a Spanish bar with my parents, listening with interest to the strange accent spoke by the locals on the next table and surrounded by the smell of cigarette smoke. And with that simple yet effective act of smoking in a public place I was immediately transported back to being a kid.
This is so far my favourite memory of Lisbon.