IT WAS 2.36am in Lisbon old town. Too early to sleep. Too late to go to bed. 

“What time do you close?” I asked a genial barman, vivid blue tiles, known as azulejos, formed the backdrop behind him. “When you stop drinking” came the reply, with a smile. 

Although it was late October, the majority of revellers were in short sleeves, gathered convivially around outside tables balanced on cobblestones.