I just returned from a week in Lisbon where I avoided all the famous miradouros and instead wandered through the backstreets of Alfama at 7 AM. The tourists were still asleep, and I had the narrow alleys, the laundry hanging overhead, and the old women sweeping their doorsteps all to myself. Is the whole point of travel actually about collecting famous sights, or is it about those unplanned, quiet moments that no guidebook can prepare you for?