Susanita

Susanita, on Wednesday the 21st of January 1981, you made your entrance in Lisbon with impeccable timing. The city was still shaking off the holidays, the trams were rattling up the hills of Alfama as they had for decades, and somewhere a pastelaria was pulling a fresh tray of pastéis de nata from the oven. The world had plenty going on that week, but let's be honest: the most important arrival in Lisbon was you.

And what a week to choose. Just one day earlier, on January 20th, Ronald Reagan had been sworn in as President of the United States, and within minutes of his oath the 52 American hostages held in Iran for 444 days were finally released. Your first full day on Earth was the day the world exhaled, as the freed hostages landed in Algiers and flew on to a US base in Germany. Closer to home, Portugal was still a young democracy, not yet seven years past the Carnation Revolution. Francisco Pinto Balsemão had only just taken over as Prime Minister after the shocking death of Francisco Sá Carneiro in a plane crash weeks earlier, and General Ramalho Eanes had just been re-elected President. Portugal was knocking on the door of the European Community, a membership that would finally come in 1986, back when you were still mastering the art of not eating crayons.

Culturally, the early eighties were warming up nicely. John Lennon had been killed only weeks before, and the world was mourning him through his music: his single Imagine was sitting at number one in the UK, while radios everywhere played Double Fantasy. Cinemas were showing The Empire Strikes Back, still drawing crowds across Europe, and everyone was quoting a small green puppet. In Lisbon, the national currency was the escudo, the airwaves belonged to RTP's two channels, and the idea of carrying a telephone in your pocket would have sounded like something out of Star Wars itself. Shoulder pads were preparing for world domination, and somewhere a hairdresser was perfecting volume that defied physics.

Snapshot facts are AI-generated and may occasionally contain inaccuracies.

On the football front, Lisbon was, as always, split between red and green. Benfica were charging toward a league and cup double that season under Hungarian coach Lajos Baróti, while Sporting fans muttered darkly from Alvalade. Meanwhile, the January weather was doing its typical Lisbon thing: mild by northern European standards, around 14°C in the afternoon, with Atlantic showers rolling in off the Tagus and the occasional burst of winter sun lighting up the yellow facades of the Baixa.

So that was the world you joined, Susanita: a city rebuilding its confidence, a country finding its footing in freedom, a planet relieved to see some people come home. Lisbon has changed a great deal since then, with bridges, metro lines and more tourists than anyone in 1981 could have imagined, but the light over the river is the same golden light that greeted you. Plenty has happened in the decades since, and the best of it, we suspect, has your fingerprints on it. Happy birthday.