Blindfolds and Bulls

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Sensorial Lisbon a walking tour unique to Lisbon, but hopefully not for much longer. Designed by Hugo, Pedro and Rita at their creative design company Cabrecega, the idea is to blindfold tourists for walking tours through Alfama, Lisbon’s labyrinthine old town, led by a blind guide. The goal, explains Hugo, is to open up our senses, experience the world without sight, and learn about the practicalities and challenges of being blind. They were inspired by the Dark Restaurant in Berlin, where blind servers serve patrons in complete darkness. I tried to eat there a few years back but it was booked up, now that it’s a hip favourite of celebs like Leo di Caprio. Hugo tells me they were having a drink one day next door to ACAPO, the Association for the Portuguese Blind, and were discussing how dependant we are on sight. As my sensorial guide Carlos Silveria explains, sight sends the most signals to the brain. Blind since he was a baby, Carlos adds: “Sight annihilates the other senses.” Operated by Lisbon Walker, a specialized tour operator that offers a variety of walking tours in Lisbon, Sensorial Lisbon is still somewhat experimental, but absolutely outstanding. With proceeds donated to the ACAPO, blind associations around the world should take note. All you need are some volunteers, a couple blindfolds, a cool neighbourhood, and the desire for a unique experience.

Walkers are paired up together and led by seeing volunteer. We hold Hugo’s elbow as we are led forward, and he instructs us about any obstacles. Jose from Lisbon Walker translates that we must trust our guide more than 100%, and that the ground won’t move beneath our feet, unless of course, there’s an earthquake. I Velcro the comfortable blindfold on, and close my eyes. Keeping them open would allow my eyes to constantly search out any source of light, so it’s better to just keep them shut. Immediately, I am overwhelmed with a sense of vulnerability. Without my lifeline to Hugo’s elbow, I would probably panic. It takes a while to get comfortable, and in the beginning, my steps are nervous with caution. Alfama is the oldest district of Lisbon, which through the years has been built like a maze of alleys and squares, lined with small shops or cafes. It’s the perfect location to awaken the other senses, full of people, sounds, smell and texture. We walk down a street, and in my imagination, I am constantly conjuring up my surroundings. A castle wall? A large hall? A busy market? Within seconds, it feels like I could be anywhere in the world, save for the far off murmur of Portuguese. Carlos explains at various stops about his life, how he knows what clothes he is wearing, what he imagines colour to look like. Modern technology has enabled the blind to lead more independent lives, a fact that Carlos gratefully acknowledges. After a half hour, I notice my hearing becomes more acute. I am aware of birdsong and footsteps, and also feel the heat on my face as I walk in and out of shadow. Jose asks us to guess where we are, and in my mind’s eye I see a tunnel (it was a corridor), I see a viewpoint (it was a square). We feel different types of trees and leaves, stopping in at a grocer to touch various types of fruit. If a car comes too close, Hugo patiently and calmly repositions us to safety. I simply cannot imagine being like this all day, all my life, and yet millions of people are. In an old communal washing room, Jose explains some of the history of Alfama, and I find myself clinging onto his words (as opposed to drifting off to whatever eye candy I can normally find).

After an hour, I have become a little more accustomed to Hugo’s nudge, which indicates an obstacle, and walk a little faster and surefooted. It is time to remove the blindfold, which we are advised to do in the shade, and slowly. Every night, my eyes are shut as I sleep. Today, this is the longest I’ve ever been awake, aware and concentrating on a constantly changing sensory landscape, with my eyes closed. I hear the rip of the Velcro, and light floods in, stabbing my optic nerve, a dull pain that appears and then quickly vanishes. Colours explode, and the information sent to my brain requires me to take a few seconds to compose myself. Carlos is smoking a cigarette. Instead of pupils, he has a off-white sheen beneath his lids. He can’t just remove a blindfold. I wonder what it must feel like for him to hear the relief when the walkers regain their sight, but don’t feel like asking him.

For my week in Portugal, I gave up attempts to grasp the nature of Portuguese culture or history. There’s never enough time, and there’s always too much to see. Instead I focused on each experience, as if they were different ingredients in a single meal, to be enjoyed as a whole. Bullfighting, blind tours, chess-board fields and bright yellow cars – spicy, bitter, sweet and salty – a meal for the senses, perfect for the appetite of a traveller.

Gonzo Gallery for Blindfolds and Bulls

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