The Hobo Mansion

Discovery

Last year, I was in Lisbon for a month. The purpose of this time was to explore, train, meet new people, and be out in the world. After graduating, not being able to find real work and constantly questioning my purpose and aspirations, the trip was exactly what I needed to be present and reassess.

The hobo mansion on the hill

At the end of the month, however, I was more or less out of money. I had enough for the next month of rent and living at home, but I didn’t have the means to travel back or afford nice accommodation for the remainder of my time. I decided to book into the cheapest hostel in Lisbon for a night and see how it would be.

It was the worst sleeping experience of my life; I don’t know whether you can even call it a sleeping experience! I was awake almost the entire time and even resorted to shoving toilet paper in my ears in the attempt to drown out the noise (it was unsuccessful).

Asymmetrical snoring louder than a jackhammer, people shouting on the phone at all hours of the night, random entries and exits, a shaky bed covered in grim stains, no windows, and thick air. Horrible!

So I checked out and reconsidered my options. I had sleeping gear with me (an iso mat, sleeping bag, and hammock), so maybe I could sleep in a forest or by a beach? This seemed sketchy alone. Then it came to me!

A couple of weeks before, I was exploring an abandoned complex in Lisbon with some friends. Despite the area being in a very prominent location and covered in graffiti, we managed to climb into one area that was graffiti-free. At the time, it had seemed like a small detail, but as I was considering potential sleeping locations in the city, it struck me that a graffiti-free section of an abandoned complex implied that very few people had spent time there or knew it was accessible.

This meant that it could be a viable sleeping spot. I decided to risk it and spent the night there. I was able to string up my hammock, but the building was on top of a hill and the wind at nighttime was intense. So I ended up abandoning the hammock and sleeping on the floor.

It was the best night's sleep I had in a month!

The air was clean, it was quiet, and I was the only person there (to the best of my knowledge). I had a beautiful panoramic view of Lisbon and the river, I felt comfortable and it was surprisingly warm. Although I slept there for the following week, I wasn’t entirely comfortable yet and packed up my bag every morning to carry around with me. However, the nights were always comfortable.

After a week there, I left Lisbon and hitchhiked back to the Netherlands. But I now knew there was a safe place to sleep in the heart of the city.

Comfort

This year, I decided to return to Lisbon and I intended to partially stay in the abandoned building again. This time, I knew it was a viable option for sleeping.

Additionally, a couple of my friends had already been sleeping there for a week. They were in Lisbon for a month of parkour and adventures and asked me if I knew anywhere to sleep for free. I pointed them toward the abandoned building, and they loved it! They immediately posted up and began to use the building

I landed in Lisbon and took public transport directly to the abandoned building. It felt very familiar to get inside. Up the same road, over the same rusty, spiky gate, through a garden ran by some old people on the edge of the complex, past their chicken coop, down an overgrown path, through a window, up a staircase, up a wall and through another window, to finally enter the sleeping space.

In a strange way, it was like coming home at the end of a long day.

My friends were there with their sleeping spots already set up. They had managed to drag a couple of mattresses all the way up for more comfortable sleeping. There was a small table and a few crates for storage. They had even swept the floor. Although these were small additions, it felt like an enormous upgrade from the previous year.

My contribution to the space, now jokingly known between us as ‘the mansion,’ was a small gas cooker and a couple of pots. In my mind, this completed the transformation from abandoned building into hobo mansion. We had the means to cook, sleep comfortably, and we even started leaving our things in the crates during the day.

The mansion started to really feel like a home.

It was a strange feeling. Over two months in Lisbon, I stayed in the mansion for around half the time, and toward the end, it felt more comfortable to stay there than anywhere else. My friends left quite soon after I arrived, but I know they shared the same feelings of cosiness and comfort that the mansion provided.

Decoration

Of course, there were downsides. It was sometimes too windy and there was limited space to shelter. It didn’t have electricity or running water, so I needed to charge devices and fill up bottles during my days. It didn’t have a bathroom so I needed to rely on cafes. To get in and out required climbing that could be seen as sketchy, and there was always the risk that somebody else would get inside and steal our stuff.

Despite this, the mansion became more and more comfortable. It was familiar. It had proven itself secure. Sweeping the floors and doing a bit of art in the place made it feel homely. The walk-in over the fence every evening, and down a hill every morning to avoid the old people farming felt like a small chunk of routine in an otherwise unstructured stretch of existence.

Decoration

It felt like my little place in the city.

We even had a neighbor! Down the hill from where we were living, still in the abandoned complex, there was a guy living in a tent, pitched on top of a mattress on a roof. Unfortunately, we never spoke but I saw him every morning, sunbathing in his underwear or pacing around on the phone. Our communication never went further than a friendly wave every morning when I was going out. But it added a sense of domesticity to the situation.

Leaving the mansion really felt like moving out of a house. Packing up my bag and sleeping gear, and knowing that I might never be back was surprisingly emotional. I know that if I return to Lisbon, there's always a chance that the mansion will be gone. But if it isn’t, I know I always have a safe, dry, and free place to sleep.

Home

During my time in the mansion, I gained a new appreciation for homes and living situations. My home life in the previous months had been miserable. I was living with strangers that I didn’t particularly like, in my old student house that had been impossible to move out of (Dutch housing market is crazy), feeling overwhelmingly trapped.

The mansion taught me that home didn’t need to be a nice place. Staying with shit housemates was optional and I wasn’t bound to that place. Home can be found anywhere and home can be fluid. Somewhere I may once have called home may not remain my home forever.

Moreover, a place I once called home turning sour in my mind is far worse than leaving a place with only positive experiences. Had I left my place in the Netherlands two years ago, I wouldn’t hold the same negativity to it that I do now. Leaving is always an option. Better to leave while things are still good, knowing there’s more good things to come.

Finally, the mansion showed me the beauty of modern convenience. Being a dirtbag is all well and good, but running water and sofas are also pretty cool. Finding a good balance that keeps me appreciating is key.

In reflection of the lessons learned from my time in the hobo mansion, I've come to a liberating decision: I'm giving up my house in the Netherlands for good. I have no idea where my next long term home is going to be, but the hobo mansion taught me that home isn’t an address, it’s a feeling. Home can be found anywhere! Who knows where I'll find it next.