Pastelaria Orion

You have had to walk through Lisbon from your accommodation to find the end of the power cut that the room you are staying at has been caught in. You know from experience that you are not just looking for a café - a snack-bar - for breakfast, you are looking for a Pastelaria. You find Pastelaria Orion at the top of the hill, near the upper entrance to Elevador Bica, and at the edge of the power cut.

It is pleasingly familiar inside, even though you have never been in here before: a counter all along one wall, regularly laid out square tables filling the rest of the rectangular room, window seats to your left.

Your English uncertainty flickers briefly, but the waitress, despite her very dark sunglasses, has seen you arrive and is at your table to take your order almost instantly. You don’t have much Portuguese, but what you do have is well practiced: sandes queijo, dois pasteis de nata, café abatanado. Por favor. The waitress nods, and returns moments later with a laminated yellow card, bearing the number 150, which she leaves without explanation, and doesn't remove when she brings your order.

Initially you sit to look back out at the street, but a beer fridge blocks all of the nearest window, so you turn round to face the room. Most of the other customers have arrived alone. 5 or 6 have chosen a table like you, but a similar number are standing at the counter. Watching the room you realise that the yellow number card is your bill – to be taken to the counter when you are done. No need to mime writing on your hand, eyebrows raised, at the waitress when the time comes.

The waitress is, naturally, brilliant, despite the indoor shades. Busy but calm; cheerful and efficient. You think, as you have thought before, that going for a coffee in Portugal isn’t just a visit to a café, it’s actually a visit to quite a different lifestyle. Many of the customers seem to know both each other and the staff, just through being breakfast regulars. And even though it is normal to stand and eat at the counter, this isn’t a sign of hurry sickness – it’s a social thing.

You’ve been here about 30 minutes, and the clientele has changed completely, apart from you; but it’s just as busy, and with the same atmosphere. You’ll know you'll be back, but for now, it’s yellow ticket time.