Lisbon Day Trips with Kids – 10 Fun & Unforgettable Stories

Last updated on August 12, 2025 at 18:51:15

What Seven Years of Chaos Taught Us About Lisbon Day Trips

• Test subjects: Lena (8, believes she’s Portuguese royalty) and Theo (5, collects cork bark)
• Disaster rate: 3 out of 10 trips end in someone sleeping on public transport
• Money spent: €63 average, including bribes disguised as ice cream
• Family motto adopted: “É assim” (It’s like that) – covers all Portuguese mysteries
• Brighton return visits now feature complaints about “fake beaches without proper fish”

The Napkin That Started a Revolution on Lisbon Day Trips

Tuesday, 11:43 AM, our Alfama kitchen smells like burnt toast and regret. Theo’s built a fortress from pastel de nata boxes (we keep them, don’t judge). Meanwhile, Lena’s teaching our elderly neighbor Senhora Conceição British slang through the window. Apparently, “innit” has entered the Alfama vocabulary. I’m not sorry.

Then Fernando bursts in – yes, he has a key, yes, it’s weird, no, we can’t change the locks because he’s also our unofficial grandfather, therapist, and Super Bock supplier. “Your children,” he announces, waving a sardine tin for emphasis, “they live in Lisbon like goldfish. Pretty bowl, no ocean.”

That afternoon, I accidentally knocked over his precious 1994 Benfica mug. Subsequently, while mopping up ancient coffee stains, he sketched a map on a paper napkin already decorated with olive oil and mystery stains. “These places,” he wheezed, cigarette dangling, “made my grandchildren Portuguese. However, yours are still tourists with house keys.”

Challenge accepted. Moreover, that napkin became our treasure map for unforgettable Lisbon Day Trips. Currently, it’s laminated and stuck to our fridge between Theo’s drawing of “Dragon Eating Bifana” and Lena’s list titled “Portuguese Words That Sound Rude But Aren’t.”

1. Berlengas: The Island of Vomit and Wonder

The Peniche ferry should come with therapy vouchers. Indeed, a businessman in a suit threw up on his own shoes while trying to maintain dignity. Furthermore, Lena documented this with disturbing glee. “For my journal,” she explained. Actually, she doesn’t have a journal.

However, arriving at Berlengas erases all trauma. The water isn’t just blue – rather, it’s that impossible blue from computer screensavers circa 2002. Additionally, you can see fish having meetings down there, probably discussing the weird pale creatures who keep jumping in.

Theo befriended a seagull he named Kevin. Not Portuguese, just Kevin. Subsequently, Kevin stole his sandwich (theme emerging). Instead of crying, Theo applauded. “Kevin’s got technique!” he announced. Consequently, every bird theft is now rated on the Kevin Scale. Most score 3/10. Nevertheless, Kevin remains a solid 9.

The cave incident: The glass-bottom boat driver, António (missing two fingers, won’t say how), let Lena hold the wheel in a cave. Immediately, she reversed into a rock. Then António laughed so hard he cried. “Your daughter,” he gasped, “she drives like my wife!” Surprisingly, his wife hit him with an oar. She was the other guide. Marriage goals.

Survival note: Pack seasickness tablets, even if you think you’re tough. Moreover, the island shop sells them for €15. Highway robbery. However, you will have to pay because Theo’s idea of “helping” sick people is rubbing their head while singing “Twinkle Twinkle.”

2. Óbidos: Where Dragons Definitely Lived

Óbidos shouldn’t work with children who consider sitting still a form of torture. Yet here we are, walking walls with no barriers while Portuguese grandmothers below cross themselves watching “those foreign children” balance like drunk tightrope walkers.

The ginja revelation happened at 10:23 AM (I checked, wanting to justify day-drinking). First, the seller, Dona Maria José Conceição Something Something (Portuguese names are novels), watched my approach with two vibrating children. Then she poured before I spoke. “Força” (strength), she muttered, subsequently handing the kids chocolate cups. “For their suffering,” she added, gesturing at me. Although Theo didn’t understand, he nodded solemnly.

Moreover, the book church changed everything. Initially, Lena discovered a Portuguese medical textbook from 1823. Next, she decided she could “definitely read it” (she cannot). Finally, she diagnosed Theo with “ancient spleen.” Delighted, he asked, “Is it fatal?” “Eventually,” she replied gravely. Consequently, he tells everyone about his ancient spleen. Our GP was confused.

The pigeon legend grows: An Óbidos pigeon – let’s call him Philippe – executed a sandwich heist so magnificent that a Japanese tourist filmed it. Specifically, Philippe grabbed Theo’s ham sandwich mid-bite. Not from his hand. FROM HIS MOUTH. Subsequently, Theo stood there, mouth open, as Philippe struggled skyward with his prize. “Philippe,” Theo whispered reverently, “is a god among birds.” Therefore, we bought another sandwich to see if Philippe would return. Predictably, he didn’t. Legends don’t repeat themselves.

3. Arrábida: The Day We Stopped Being British

Portuguese beach culture is organized chaos at its finest. Indeed, one family had a three-course meal setup including a tablecloth weighted with stones, wine glasses (actual glass at a beach!), and a grandmother grilling fish while wearing full mourning clothes and jewelry.

Meanwhile, we arrived with a Tesco bag containing squashed sandwiches and warm water. The grandmother, Dona Lurdes, looked at us like we were war refugees. However, by noon, she’d adopted us. Specifically, Theo was calling her “Avó Lurdes,” Lena was learning to clean sardines (badly), and I was somehow debating whether Ronaldo or Eusébio was better, despite knowing nothing about either.

Furthermore, the water at Portinho da Arrábida broke my brain. You can see your toes clearly at depths where British water would be brown mystery soup. Then a school of tiny silver fish investigated Lena’s ankles. Remarkably, she stood motionless for seventeen minutes (I timed it, couldn’t believe it). “I’m becoming ocean,” she whispered. Unfortunately, a wave hit and she shrieked like a banshee. The fish fled. “I was SO CLOSE to being ocean!” she wailed. Nevertheless, we still don’t know what that means.

Transport adventure: The Setúbal ferry ticket machine had a handwritten sign: “Exact change or suffer.” Obviously, we suffered. Eventually, a teenager named Diogo took pity, bought our tickets, and refused repayment. “You have children,” he shrugged, the universal Portuguese explanation for all kindness. Indeed, his grandmother would be proud.

4. Cascais: Millionaires and Our McDonald’s Shame

Cascais is where Lisbon’s beautiful people go to be more beautiful. Initially, we tried to blend in. However, Theo wore his “My Sister Is Annoying” t-shirt (in English), while Lena had face paint from yesterday (a butterfly, now resembling a crime scene). Additionally, I realized too late my swimming shorts had a hole in an unfortunate location.

Nevertheless, beyond the Instagram perfection lies actual perfection. First, we rented bikes (€2/hour, Theo in baby seat despite being “NOT A BABY, DAD”). Then, cycling to Guincho, Theo sang Portuguese nursery rhymes he learned wrong. Apparently, “Three little fish, swimming in oil” isn’t right, but the locals who heard him found it hilarious.

At Boca do Inferno, the waves created a rainbow in the spray. Subsequently, Theo, philosophy mode activated, announced: “Cascais is cooking rainbows for the sky.” Moreover, an elderly Portuguese couple overheard. The woman clutched her husband’s arm. “From the mouths of babes,” she said in English. Therefore, they bought the kids ice cream. Unfortunately, Theo told them about his ancient spleen. They were concerned.

The confession deepens: We didn’t just eat at McDonald’s. Actually, we went twice in one day. Morning McMuffin (they don’t do them, devastating), then afternoon Happy Meal (comes with pastéis de nata, Portugal wins). Indeed, the shame was worth the silence. Judge me from your tower of perfect parenting. Meanwhile, I’ll be here sauce-stained, a little chaotic, and planning our next Lisbon Day Trips adventure.

5. Sintra: Fairy Tales and Furniture Hatred

Pena Palace looks like what happens when Skittles achieve sentience and decide to become architecture. The outside is free Instagram content for life. Conversely, the inside is where happiness goes to consider retirement.

We lasted eight minutes inside. EIGHT. Specifically, the tour guide was explaining a chair’s significance when Theo, volume set to eleven, asked: “BUT WHY ARE WE LOOKING AT DEAD PEOPLE’S FURNITURE?” Immediately, every tourist turned. Furthermore, some nodded agreement. The guide pretended not to understand English. Consequently, we left. No refunds. €14 per person to look at one chair and question existence.

However, the Moorish Castle delivered redemption. Real walls! Real danger! Additionally, real vultures circling like they’re waiting for tourist mistakes! Moreover, Theo found evidence of dragons: scratches on stones (erosion), a blackened area (weather staining), and what he insists is a dragon tooth (piece of tile). Currently, he carries that tile everywhere. The TSA was confused.

Additionally, from the castle’s peak, both kids spotted the ocean simultaneously. Their synchronized scream of “ATLANTIC!” made an elderly German couple drop their camera. Then – and this is peak Lena – she curtsied to the ocean. “Greeting my kingdom,” she explained. Subsequently, Theo copied her. Therefore, they now curtsy to all bodies of water. The Lisbon aquarium visit was interesting.

6. Cabo da Roca: Where Wind Attacks Children

The westernmost point of continental Europe sounds educational. Instead, it’s a wind tunnel designed by someone who hates children. Immediately, Theo’s hat disappeared, last seen heading toward America. “My hat’s going to New York!” he screamed, delighted. Ironically, it wasn’t his favorite hat until it flew away. Nevertheless, we discuss “the New York hat” weekly.

Furthermore, the certificate scam (€11, confirms you stood somewhere) is now our most treasured document. Specifically, Lena shows it to everyone. The pizza delivery guy knows we’ve been to Europe’s edge. Additionally, our dentist has seen it twice. Moreover, she includes it in school presentations regardless of topic. “The water cycle… which I’ve seen from Europe’s most western point, as certified by this document.”

The sunset truth: We stayed late, parked badly, probably illegally. Subsequently, in the car, heater fighting Atlantic cold, we shared the emergency biscuit tin (custard creams, bourbon creams, and something that might have been a cookie once). Nobody spoke for twenty minutes. Then Theo asked: “Dad, is this the actual edge?” “Of Europe, yes.” “So if we kept going?” “America, eventually.” “Can Kevin fly there?” “Kevin the seagull?” “Yeah.” “Probably not.” However, “Philippe could.” “Philippe definitely could.” Indeed, we agreed. Philippe transcends physics.

7. Belém: Sugar Rush Central

The Belém Tower is everything a castle should be: surrounded by water, has dungeons, and scared Theo just enough to be exciting but not therapy-inducing. First, he got “stuck” in a dungeon (he wasn’t). Then he performed a dramatic death scene (unnecessary). Finally, Lena rescued him (charging €2 for the service).

Obviously, Pastéis de Belém is the real reason we’re here. Moreover, the queue is a cultural experience. We bonded with a couple from Newcastle who’d been queuing for forty minutes. “Worth it?” I asked. “Better be,” the husband replied, “or I’m swimming home.” Subsequently, they were behind us when we ordered eighteen tarts. “EIGHTEEN?” “We have children,” I explained. They nodded. Universal parent understanding.

Additionally, we discovered MAAT’s roof – a concrete wave you can walk on. Free. Dangerous. Perfect. First, Theo ran until dizzy. Next, he collapsed, announcing he could “see his brain.” Meanwhile, Lena practiced her “Portuguese walk” (normal walking but with unnecessary hip movement). Surprisingly, an art student sketched them. Therefore, we’re probably in someone’s thesis about foreign children adapting to Portuguese architecture.

8. Fátima: Accidental Enlightenment on Lisbon Day Trips

We’re so atheist we consider yoga suspicious. Nevertheless, here we are, lighting candles like it’s our job. Specifically, Theo’s was for “Kevin and Philippe’s friendship” (they’ve never met). Meanwhile, Lena’s was for “all the fish who’ve seen my feet.” Mine was for whoever’s keeping us alive despite our parenting. However, Sarah’s was fifteen minutes of careful consideration resulting in “mind your business.”

Furthermore, the crawling pilgrims fascinated Theo. “Are their knees okay?” Valid question. Subsequently, a Portuguese grandmother overheard, laughed, and patted his head. “You worry about knees, not souls. Very practical.” Then she gave him a religious medal. Currently, he thinks it’s a “knee protection coin” and wears it swimming.

9. Évora: Time Travel and Bone Philosophy

The train journey requires supplies. Portuguese families bring bread. Conversely, we brought an entire Sainsbury’s. The contrast was embarrassing. Indeed, their kid watched one show, ate one sandwich, and slept. Meanwhile, ours consumed seventeen snacks, asked “are we there yet” forty-three times, and somehow Theo got gum in his eyebrow. HOW?

Subsequently, the Chapel of Bones prompted unexpected philosophy. “So they’re all mixed up?” Theo asked. “Like friend soup?” The monk guiding us choked. Additionally, Lena was calculating: “If each skull was a person, and each person had thoughts, this room contains millions of old thoughts.” Then, quieter: “Do the thoughts stay in the bones?” Consequently, the monk left. We bought postcards.

Moreover, our guide, Carlos, stopped at a cork tree. No explanation, just pulled over and started stripping bark. Initially, the kids watched like he was performing magic. Then he handed them some cork. Theo took a deep whiff and spent a solid ten minutes inhaling. “That’s the scent of Portugal,” he announced proudly. Now, on our Lisbon Day Trips, Theo can’t resist sniffing every cork item he sees making wine shops pretty uncomfortable places to visit.

10. Azenhas do Mar: The Circle Completes on Lisbon Day Trips

This white village tumbling into the Atlantic is where I realized we’re not British anymore. Furthermore, we’re not Portuguese either. Instead, we’re something else – a hybrid species that eats beans on toast with chouriço, considers 18°C “freezing,” and judges all birds against Philippe.

In the ocean pool, carved from rock and filled by Atlantic mood swings, a Portuguese grandfather asked where we’re from. “Brighton and Alfama,” Lena answered. “Both?” “Yes.” “Lucky you.” Indeed, he meant it. Subsequently, his wife shared their octopus salad with us. Meanwhile, Theo told her about Kevin. Remarkably, she nodded seriously. “Seagulls have souls,” she confirmed. He glowed.

The Beautiful Truth of Lisbon Day Trips

After seven years, our children navigate Portuguese bureaucracy better than me. Moreover, they consider British beaches “broken” and rate all sandwiches on the Philippe Scale of Theft Difficulty. These Lisbon day trips didn’t just entertain them – rather, they rewired them completely.

Therefore, yes, someone will cry (you, probably at Sintra prices). Additionally, something will go wrong (ferry schedules are suggestions). Furthermore, you’ll spend shocking amounts on terrible coffee. Nevertheless, you’ll watch your kids become citizens of nowhere and everywhere, speaking Portinglish, collecting cork, and believing in rainbow factories.

Ultimately, these Lisbon Day Trips aren’t just outings. Instead, they’re the stories shaping tiny humans who’ll grow up knowing the world is vast but reachable, foreign but welcoming, and occasionally insane but worth exploring. Even if Philippe steals your lunch.

Join our chaotic expedition at Lisbonly.co.uk where I document raising feral bilingual children who curtsy to the Atlantic and believe all pigeons are disappointments except Philippe. Additionally, find downloadable guides for surviving Portuguese transport, beaches that don’t make you sad, and restaurants where children eating dessert first is considered “normal Tuesday.”