OPORTO, OPORTO, WHEREFORT ART THOUGH PORTO?

OPORTO, OPORTO, WHEREFORT ART THOUGH PORTO?

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Leaving Ferrol, Spain I caught the bus to La Coruna (or A Coruna in Spanish) to get a connection to Porto (or Oporto in Portugese), Portugal.

I wasn't really sure of the routing or where I was staying. I had put in several couchsurfing requests but had only received one maybe and two no's. The no's already had people coming in the same day and it seems there was a lot of that going on. Just in case I couldn't find a couch, I checked online and found a cool sounding, very highly rated hostel called the Rivoli Cinema Hostel for $18 euros a night, which included a free breakfast and internet or wifi. The fallback plan as it were. Bah-rum pum.

The bus rolled into La Coruna just before 10:30 am. I went upstairs to check on buses to Porto and it turned out the only bus to Porto left at 8:30 am. Once a day service. I asked if there was a train to Porto and she didn't know and didn't really care, but she did know where the train station was, so I headed over there. By the time I found the ticket counter at the train station it was 11 am and there was, in fact, a train that would take me to Porto, I just had to switch trains in Vigo and handle a seven hour layover. Great, some time for sightseeing.

I bought the ticket and the guy told me, “Track quatro, cinco minutos.” Beautiful. I asked if there was food “comida” on the train. He told me in Spanish, no food, but there were drinks I could buy and looked at me and added, “Quatro minutos.” I wished I had enough command of Spanish to say, “I really don't hurry until I have two minutes to go”. So I smiled and headed to the train thinking how witty I could have been.....

The view from the train from
La Coruna to Vigo

My preference for traveling Europe is train. You don't see anything on buses that you don't see traveling a highway in the states, but on the train in Europe you roll through peoples backyards and see the country from a truly unique perspective. In comfort. You can get up and use the restroom, walk around, get a drink. This is traveling. It was also cheaper than the bus price.

The train arrived in Vigo a little after 1pm and all I could think was, “I wonder, where is Jean Val Jean?” Ok, bad Les Mis joke, besides, his Vigo was in France.....

The train to Porto departs at 7:39 at night. I bought an $8 euro ticket that was good to the edge of Spain and it sounded like I had to switch trains and then pay from the Portugese border to Porto. Couldn't quite get the full grasp of the Spanish but it'll work out, it always does. The bad news was, there were no lockers in the train station, so I would have to hump my backpack around Vigo. How is it that a backpack seems to gain weight as a trip progresses? Time for a little planning. There was a pizza shop right next to the train station with a 'zona wifi' sign in the window. Which is the sign for complimentary wifi in Galicia, Spain. Perfect.

Vigo doesn't seem steep, but
add a pack and it's a workout.

I got online and checked the Couchsurfing replies without luck and then made the hostel reservation. Vigo is halfway between La Coruna and Porto, so it should be about two more hours by train to Porto. Figure a 7:30 departure would arrive about 9:30, give me an hour to navigate, even though the website said the hostel was a five minute walk from the train station, I added an hour and booked an 11 pm arrival.

Checked emails, did some reading online and then strolled Vigo for the next three hours. For some unknown reason I started walking towards the water and got sidetracked and ended up walking uphill for an hour. With a full pack. Duh. I guess I was in search of a view, or I just happened to follow the lady with the attractive legs in the really short skirt. :-) Just enjoyed checking out the shops and seeing the sites. A lot more people speak English in Vigo than I had encountered in Ferrol or even La Coruna.

The Vigo train station, not exactly
classic European architecture for
this station. :-)

At six I started heading for the train and got there at 7:10. Grabbed some snacks and got on the train. It was a Portugese line train with “Porto” on the sign, looks like it's going straight through. The train wasn't quite as plush as the Spanish train, but what the heck.

When we hit the Portugese border a conductor came through and collected another nine euro fare for the trip to Porto. Captured my first Portugese sunset over the atlantic from the train.

My first Portugese sunset

The Portugese time zone is an hour behind Spain, so I rolled the clock back an hour, but the trip ended up being three hours on the slower train, so it all came out in the wash. Arrived in Porto just before 10pm at Campanha station, the main station in Porto. I had the name and address of the hostel, but I forgot to download the exact directions. There's always that one detail. So I walked into the convenience store in the train station and the clerk spoke English, but he had never heard of the hostel or the street I was looking for. But this incredibly enthusiastic Portugese girl had. She was a hoot and got so excited when she found it on the map. She jumped up and down and shouted, “I found it, I found it!!!” Turns out I had to get back on a train and head to another train station called Sao (pronounced sow) Bento. A ten minute train ride away, not really walkable at night with a full pack. Only had to wait ten minutes for the next train to Sao Bento.

Sao Bento station was beautiful, like many European train stations are. Many are truly works of art. As I was walking out the door I saw a security guard and asked him in Portugese, “where” and pointed to the address I had. In English, he replied, “I think it's right around the corner”. I can't count the number of times in Europe I've asked someone for directions in their language and they replied to me in English. Then he asked a cab driver in Portugese who confirmed what he suspected. About three blocks away. I thanked him again, in Portugese and started walking. I was struck by the lighting of the buildings outside the train station. Beautiful.

Walking out of Sao Bento station at night

There really aren't street signs in many places in Europe, the street names are on the sides of buildings. Beyond that, some street names only last for a couple of blocks and frequently when the street curves the name will change. Added a little intrigue to finding the hostel, but it worked out fine.

The view of the breakfast table and the doors
with the reception area on the other side from
the comfy sofas.

Rivoli Cinema Hostel is a place I will return to. Amazing. When I sat down at the reception desk right before 11pm to check in, I noticed the breakfast table for ten, the five clean almost new sofas, the four internet computer stations to use for free, the huge plasma screen with wi. The other travelers comfortably lounging about. Wow.

The locking wardrobe for
my pack.  Clothes hangars
as well

I got put in a mixed dorm with four beds. Two bunks. She asked what bed I wanted and in my opinion the best bed in a hostel is the bottom bunk that's behind the door when it opens. Not a lot of light blasting on you when the door opens and easy to get out of bed for a bathroom run in the middle of the night, or collapsing into after a night on the town. Each bed had a locking wardrobe. Perfect fit for my pack, with clothes hangars. I had one bunkmate when I arrived, the only other US citizen I saw in the hostel the entire time I was there. Milton and he left early the next morning to catch a flight.

I put everything away, changed and went down to the common room to get on the internet. They had complimentary juice and water all day. Plus left over breakfast cakes.

There were a couple people in the common room and this one girl and guy started playing wi tennis. The way she went up to him and 'told' him they were going to play tennis, I thought they were together. Turns out they'd never met, she was a pharmacist from northern Brazil and he was a school teacher from England who taught English. At one point I helped them sort out a problem with the controllers and they kept playing games. Called it a night right at midnight.

WEDNESDAY APRIL 13, 2011

The breakfast spread

The hostel provided a free breakfast until 11 am. Got up at 8 in plenty of time to partake and plan my day. The breakfast was a great spread, cereal, toast, rolls, cheese, ham, lemon breakfast cake (similar to a pound cake) coffee, milk, juice and tea. All you can eat. People were rolling in and out, polite and pleasant. Had breakfast and saw the girl at the desk who checked me in the night before, JoAnn. She had just finished her shift and looked tired. There was a new girl at the desk, also named, JoAnn. And a third girl working in the office of the hostel, yup, JoAnn. This one was pregnant though (with a little JoAnn according to daytime desk JoAnn, not true actually, but funny nonetheless).

Nighttime JoAnn had drawn on a map for me some free Port wine tastings. The wine Porto is famous for. I also checked on the Porto couchsurfing site and it turned out a local couchsurfer named Fernando did a walking tour of the city the day before, missed it by a day. I put a notice on the Porto couchsurfing site that I was interested in hooking up with some locals to learn about their city. Fernando replied that he was doing a tour Thursday as well. Great. It also listed on his tour that the Croft winery had a free wine tasting as opposed to the one on the map that JoAnn showed me that had a six or nine euro price. Might as well try the free one first.

The Portugese pharmacist, who, as god is my witness, was named Mona Lisa, was also heading out to see the city and asked where I was heading. I told her I planned on heading to Croft. She asked what time I was going to be there and said she'd meet me there. That works, it's always more fun wine tasting with someone.

I showered and got dressed and headed out. Walked by the Sao Bento train station and down to the bridge over the river. I crossed the top of the bridge instead of taking the lower bridge and then just worked my way down to the river from there. The view from the bridge was spectacularly panoramic looking up and down the river. Along the river was a heavy tourist area. But the side road to the Croft winery was not really well travelled and was a bit of a hike. It was worth the trip. Two samples of Port wine, white and red and a beautiful wine shop and patio to enjoy the sun. 

Definitely hit Croft and Taylor in Porto

 The pharmacist never made it and after waiting an hour and having a few more samples at less than a euro apiece, I tried another location, the Taylor Winery. Even better looking than Croft. When you walk in, they ask you to sit down and bring you two samples, again red and white Port. The seating area is like an old english pub with a fireplace and high-back chairs. The garden outside was really something and then there was another side garden with Peacocks. Both Croft and Taylor sold chocolate truffles to accompany their Port. Perfect. Sitting in the warm sun with Port and chocolate. Met a couple from New York city, the only americans I encountered in Porto, and chatted for quite a while in the garden.

The entry to Taylor winery's tasting room.

What the heck, might as well try the big tourist one, Sandeman on the way back. What a waste of time. They charged for their tour and their samples were twice the price and they didn't sell chocolate. Pass.

Above, the cat with the evil eye. I can just hear
it, "Hey gringo, this is my hood.
Below, the city of Porto from the riverwalk.

I crossed the lower bridge on the way back and worked my way through the neighborhood including apparently annoying a cat that gave me the evil eye. There were a lot of empty buildings and the speculator in me took over, thinking this would be a great location for a hostel like the one I was staying in.

Tough day at the market.

I walked through the street and found the big fruit/vegetable/fish market in downtown Porto. When I travel, I love listening to the locals talk in markets, how they say hello, goodbye and just generally converse in their language. It's the best way I've found for getting an 'ear' for the local language. Bought an orange and headed back to the hostel.

Lee and I almost banging our
heads in the balcony.

The common room was happening when I got back. Chatted with the school teacher, Lee, who had been there a few days and we decided to have dinner together. He said he knew a good local place. Told him I was supposed to hook up with the girl from Brazil at the winery but I missed her. I was worried that I had misunderstood what she said and hoped she wasn't mad at me and wanted to leave a message at the front desk for her. He also recommended we get back in time for the rooftop drinks at 8pm. Every night the hostel hosted a rooftop drink happy hour from 8-11 pm with a drink of the day for $1.30 euro. Spectacular deal.

We caught dinner at a local place, watched a football (soccer) match from our balcony seats (where we nearly banged our heads on the ceiling) and I had a local dish called Franchenieza or something to that effect, sausage inside bread and cheese with an egg on top and then a sort of gravy, but more like an enchilada sauce, poured over all of it. It was good. Way too much food, but good. Dinner and two beers each for less than 8 euros. Wow.

The rooftop was the place, when we got back, a rotation of 12-20 people coming and going. Everyone was sitting around the table quietly talking to themselves, then I started asking everyone where they were from, what they did and things just rolled from there. I had a tremendous personal victory. There were five french people sitting at spots around the table and when I answered someone with, “Oui,” one of the guys asked, “Parlez vous francais?” (Do you speak french?), I answered, “Un peu” (a little) waited for a few seconds and then told a joke about language in French. All five people from France laughed at exactly the same time, which coincided perfectly with the punch line :-). Everyone else at the table looked at me, I translated it to English and they laughed. Funny in two languages. On purpose. First time ever. Just call me Moliere.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Molière      Oh yeah..... :-)

Sitting around the table were people from France, China, England, Northern Ireland, Holland, Belgium, Turkey, Colombia, Brazil, Denmark, Germany, Austria and Spain. The common language for communicating with the group was English. It was spectacular. The next night we added a girl from Italy and a guy from Finland. I can now toast a drink in Turkish and Finnish while swearing in Italian. :-) The girl from Italy was in my dorm room along with two other guys and was only there for one night. On the second night I had just one roommate from Chile, another guy catching a connection flight. The girl, Ilaria (rhymes with Hillary), was putting her bag away and swearing proficiently in English with the cutest Italian accent. Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, she was struggling with the locking bureau. I said, “You're pretty good at swearing in english.” She laughed. I told her she should join us on the roof, she did.  She taught us a few choice Italian swear words.  She was from Verona, Italy and had heard every Romeo and Juliet joke.  As we were chatting about our travels, another small world moment occurred.

I had mentioned I was thinking of heading to Parma, Italy which was the setting for my favorite John Grisham book titled, "Playing for Pizza".  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Playing_for_Pizza  She kinda laughed and said, "I know Parma.  My boyfriend is a wide receiver for the Parma Panthers american football team."  The team Grisham wrote about.   Go figure....

I speak Portugese, I know the way.

As the bar was closing the first night, I asked if anyone was doing anything. Everyone seemed eager to go somewhere, so I suggested dancing. Holy heck, yes. We went down to the common room to see night time JoAnn who sent us off across town to a club called Condagearte. Thirteen of us left the hostel for the dance club. We were a nightmare walking the street with a crumpled up map finding our way, but it sure was fun. The pharmacist (Mona Lisa, who we dubbed our little masterpiece, which she actually got a kick out of as being a unique turn of phrase after a lifetime of Mona Lisa jokes) was sure of the directions because she spoke fluent Portugese. I was sure they were heading the wrong way, because I had programmed the directions into the map on my I-phone which matched the map JoAnn had drawn. I stood on the corner as they walked a block and then came back. :-)

Just happy to be on our way dancing
in Porto

Every dance club we went to in Porto gives you a card so you can pay your cover charge on the way out and your drink tab. As you order drinks they just write them on the card. Generally a $3 euro charge to get into the clubs and drinks are $1.50 to $2 euros. The catch is, if you lose your card, depending on the club, it's a $50 to $100 euro charge. Ouch. Don't lose that card.

The hostel gang on the steamy
reggae dance floor.

The club had a reggae dance floor downstairs and an oldies (mainly 60's) rock floor upstairs. We took over the reggae floor with our little group and had a ball. Got some great photos and danced til almost three am. Half the group left just after two, the rest of us left just before three.

THURSDAY APRIL 14, 2011

The breakfast table was A LOT more lively this morning as we regaled and teased each other with more details of the previous night. There was actually a family from Germany staying in the hostel, Ina, her five year old daughter Nora and her boyfriend Dirk. Ina had a really sad look on her face the previous night as we were leaving to go dancing. Like watching people go to a party she wanted to go to. You could tell she had been dying to come along and kept sadly smiling at our stories during breakfast.

Waiting for Fernando's tour.

Everyone kept asking if I had facebook so they could send me photos and friend me. I told them couchsurfing was my facebook. I said, “You can have five thousand friends on facebook and never meet one of them. But on couchsurfing, every friend you have is someone you've met. The point of couchsurfing is to meet people and learn about cities and places like we did last night.” I mentioned at the breakfast table that a local Porto couchsurfer was giving a walking tour of the city that day starting at noon. Four people asked if they could go, Ruud from Holland, Martin from Germany, Yvonne from China and her boyfriend Michael from France. I told them it was open to everyone. Mona Lisa, 'Our Little Masterpiece' from the night before wanted to go, but she was leaving Porto for Valencia in a few hours. A couple other people at the hostel wanted to go to, but had already paid for another tour.

We met Fernando, the couchsurfing tour guide, just before noon outside of the oldest church in Porto,

Breaking bread with couchsurfers
to start Fernando's tour of Portugal.

Igreja Românica de Cedofeita, the location of which dates to 600 ad. Five more couchsurfers visiting the city joined us. Leen and Mira from Belgium, Edita from Serbia, Teemu from Finland and Dominique from Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada. First thing Fernando did was sit us down for a big lunch to get to know each other around a table. Breaking bread as it were. Genius idea to start a tour, it broke the ice. The fact that I steered everyone to the bar for a noon beer, while we waited a half hour for the table to be set and the last surfer to arrive, helped as well. :-) Big spread of food, beef, fish, chicken, vegetables and desserts. We really needed a long walk after that. Cavewoman from Spain would have loved it. :-) Much meat.

The tile mosaic at Sao Bento.

The tour started down a main shopping street called the Rue de Cedofeita. It reminded me of the street in Pamplona where they run the bulls during the festival of San Fermin. Same width and cobblestone/tile surface. The only things missing were the gates to close off the side streets to keep the bulls running straight. From there we went to the Portugese coin museum, with a fantastic collection of coins, some dating before Christ. Then a tile museum and then the huge church in Porto. Across the street was the University area and a bar where all the students hang out and have plaques on the wall commemorating graduations and reunions of significance, 50 years and such. We then went through the natural history museum where Fernando got us in for free. Connections. The previous stops were free as well. 

 We stopped at the Sao Bento train station and I saw it from a new perspective. There are amazing tile works on the walls depicting Portugese history. From there we headed to Croft. Over the top of the bridge and then winding down the stairs through the neighborhood. This time I did the full tour (all 15 minutes of it) along with the tastings. I was somewhat surprised during the tour. The tour guide asked everyone in our group where they were from and made the occasional witty comment in whatever laguage was appropriate. It was typically European. There were over 50 people in our group and surprisingly, I was the ONLY american. I really thought that screamed volumes about the U.S. economy right now. We ran out of time for the Taylor tour, so we headed back along the water and to a tram to take us back up the hill. We came out in a neighborhood on the back side of Sao Bento with some great pastry shops. There was another church there with a tile mosaic on the front. Before today, I had never noticed the different mosaics all over Porto. We walked along another shopping district and up to the backside of the market I had been to the day before, but it was closed now. Fernando was hosting a dinner later that night, but we were headed back to the hostel for the rooftop festivities. He wouldn't take money and we thanked him for the incredible tour. He just loved showing his city off to visitors and meeting people from all over. Spectacular people each and every one.

I told him I hadn't found a couch to surf in Porto and he seemed hurt that no one had stepped up. Dominique was surfing with him and he told me to join them because he had plenty of room. As a matter of fact, Leen and Mira needed a couch the next night and were going to stay with him as well for a couple of nights. I thanked him and told him that I only had one night left in Porto before flying to Dublin, Ireland. I pointed out the people who were also staying in the hostel and said I was really enjoying them and staying there. He said if my plans changed I could surf with him. He was a great guy, typical couchsurfer.

As we were heading back to the hostel, hunger set in so we stopped in a little cafe to get a quick bite. As we were eating we noticed Yahyah from Turkey, also staying at the hostel walk by. We couldn't catch him before he turned the corner and was gone. We had a ball with him on the dance floor the night before as well.

Back at the hostel, it was a strawberry mixed drink on special. Big group on the roof again. Ina, the girl from Germany joined us and her five year old daughter Nora kept popping up to check on her mother. Antonia from Belfast, Nothern Ireland is a psych major in university and we started talking cultural philosophy which, of course, made a natural progression into drinking songs. Once we hit that, everyone at the table had to sing their country's drinking song to get another drink. The bartender Karina helped make sure. Two Brits, Sabrina and Ollie, new arrivals who were doing a driving tour of Europe tried God Save the Queen, but only got through the first part of the lyrics. When it came to me, I told them there really weren't any drinking songs in the states, communal singing is increasingly becoming a lost cultural form. And besides, they'd probably rather listen to cats screeching instead of me trying to sing. They wouldn't relent, so I warbled, “My Country Tis of Thee”, to show the Brits what we had done to the Queen's song in America. Why I didn't think of “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall”, I have no idea. Ruud taught everyone at the table the german drinking song, “Beer and titten” (yes it means that) and led us in a hearty rendition right as Nora popped in again. Ina just smiled and lightly held her hands over her daughters ears as fifteen of us belted out the refrain.

Irish step dancing lessons.

Antonia went last and she was the ringer. She sang a beautiful Irish song that stilled the night. She had held out and tried not to sing, but she was the best. Then she got up and did an Irish step dance that was amazing to watch.

Five year old Nora had brought Dirk up to the party to sit with Ina. Nora realized this was the place to be. When she saw the big american galoot, she climbed the back of my chair and jumped on my shoulders and head, everyone laughed, except Dirk. I leaned forward and Nora was hanging on my head upside down. I turned and she flipped into her mother's lap. They both laughed, Dirk looked really concerned. After several minutes of this and the group egging Nora on in attacking me, Nora and her mother went to get her something to drink. Dirk slid over next to me to apology.

He said, “If she's bothering you let us know and she'll stop. She can be a little much some times”.

I told him not to worry, it was great fun and Nora was having a ball. As was everyone else watching. He expressed more concern and I told him, “Believe me when I tell you this, you will miss this some day.” He looked at me with a puzzled expression. I tried to explain to him to cherish this time, she'll be a teenager before he knows it. :-)

Nora and Ina came back for a little more fun, then Antonia offered to teach us all how to Irish step dance. She's truly a patient soul. A violin (fiddle player) and a drum (like the drum used in the Irish music in Titanic) showed up to play while Antonia danced. Great show. Then the lessons began.

Dirk and Nora headed to the room, which left Ina with us, beaming. Only about four of us gave the step dancing a shot, but we kept at it. Occasionally looking adequate, other times looking beyond inept, but always fun. We settled back to watch Antonia again. She was great.

After the group thinned out a bit, we took a photo, then Ruud said everyone had to hoist me to celebrate because everyone was just sitting there quietly until I showed up and started asking questions of everyone and asked if anyone wanted to go dancing. After the photo, Antonia looked at me and said, “You know Larry, you're not the lightest thing.”

Trying to hoist Larry....

I told her, “Never said I was, you just grabbed the wrong end.” The bar closed and we moved to the main room just after midnight. Another dancing excursion was in the works. Ina really didn't want to miss this one, but didn't think she could leave. We told her to go tell them we were kidnapping her to dance. She came back with her purse and a cheshire cat grin, “They're asleep.”

Off we went.

During the day time as you walk around Porto, there were random groups of students in yellow shirts and what they call 'the black coats' walking, chanting, and singing. Turns out it's a university pledge week program of some sorts. We ended up at a dance club a few blocks from the hostel in the middle of the university area. When we walked in, the guy handed us our cards and said it was a student week party inside as well. Ok. Whatever.

The black coats and yellow shirted
students during pledge time.

We walked in the door and got blasted in the face with squirt guns. Almost everyone in the place had a squirt gun and the floor was soaking wet. Tough to dance like that. We stayed for a couple of songs and made a hasty retreat.

We found another club on the way back to the hostel and went in there. Dancing, no squirt guns. Much better. The music was a sort of Portugese hip-hop, very danceable just couldn't understand a word. Not that that really matters.

Ruud and Ina heading back
to the hostel after dancing.

Ina was dancing like someone who had a one-ton weight lifted off her shoulders, a free bird floating over the dance floor. She later said that she loved to dance and used to dance all the time, but had not been out in about four years. Dirk is not a dancer. Plus there's a little tension between Ina's daughter and Dirk. Dirk is not Nora's father and when I asked Ina if she had been married before, she swooned and said, “No, but I would love to be married.” All I could think was, walk two blocks in any direction and there will be no shortage of men who would love to marry you. Such a wonderful lady. Four of us stayed late and headed back to the hostel, Martin, Ruud, Ina and myself. As we were walking back to the hostel we kept stopping to take photos with Martin's camera, he would set the camera on a post, hit the timer button and run back to us. As we set up for a shot, a car full of crazy celebrating Portugese black coats came roaring to a stop beside us. One of the guys jumped out of the back seat to high five us. Ina jumped into the car and they started to drive off. We howled like crazy, they got the better end of the deal. The poor guy who jumped out couldn't believe his friends dumped him. Huge surprise. Hah.

They brought Ina back and we took some more photos and got back to the hostel just before 4 am.

FRIDAY APRIL 15, 2011

Same routine at breakfast this morning, daytime JoAnn wanted a full accounting of the night before. She was living vicariously through us and enjoying it almost as much.

Ina and Nora finally made it down to breakfast just after ten and Nora had a sheepish grin with a pleading look in her eyes. Don't spill the beans. What happens on the streets of Porto, stays on the streets of Porto. :-) Unless it's blogged.....

Most of the group was leaving the hostel today and daytime JoAnn was nearly in tears. She loves meeting people in her job, but really gets torn up when guests she enjoys are leaving. Lots of e-mail addresses exchanged, lots of European two cheek kisses, lots of hope of connecting somewhere down the road. It was tough not to blubber.

I got ready and went down to checkout. I had a flight at 8:45 at night to Dublin, Ireland. When I was in Spain, I had received an instant message on skype from a friend of mine in Dublin asking what I was doing. When I told him I was in Spain, his reply was typically Irish blunt. “You coming up f*ck*r?” How can such an eloquent invitation be passed up?

Five year old Nora and Dirk on the computers
at the hostel.

Turned out there was a direct RyanAir flight from Porto to Dublin for $40 Euros. Since I had no pressing engagements, I booked the flight for this Friday. I was really fortunate that I booked the flight while talking to Breanne Watson. Caveat emptor baby. Cheap flight yes, but don't forget to check in online or they hit you with a $40 Euro fee at the gate. Don't forget to print your boarding pass before you head to the airport or it's $45 Euro for them to print you one at the airport. And then there's the bag fee. You get one bag, no laptop bag or small carryon, just one bag only and it “must” fit into the carryon bag frame at the counter or it's checked for another $45 Euro. So, if Bre hadn't warned me, I could have been looking at almost $200 Euro to fly to Dublin on the 'cheap' fare.

Bre was pretty sure my pack wouldn't fit, stuffed full. Her suggestion was genius. Wear as much clothing as you can. I can be the fat traveling american. :-) At least I knew what was coming.

The hostel actually had me email them my boarding pass and they printed it off for me. You can check in online four days ahead of time and I did that. Now I would just have to slim down my bag at the airport.

But first it was time to wrap things up at the hostel and stroll the city one last time. The Rivoli Cinema Hostel has a noon check out and a big bag-room downstairs to hold your stuff until you finally leave. JoAnn almost started sobbing as a group of us were saying goodbye. Several were off for buses, I had to pick up some supplies and get some lunch. I had planned to return to the hostel late in the afternoon and hang out until I left for the airport at six.

My table outside the cafe,
perfect for people watching.

Martin and Ruud left with Antonia, who was distraught that she missed the dancing excursion the previous night. We exchanged emails, hugs and kisses. Dirk, Ina and Nora were sitting at the computer station and leaving shortly. Nora was being reticent, a bashful five year old again, so I sneaked up behind her and tickled her sides and said good bye in five or six different languages, finishing with her native German. “Auf Wiedersehen, Nora”. Dirk said, “Nora, Uncle Larry is leaving.” Nice family.

I walked back to the pastry shops that we discovered on Fernando's tour. I headed to the metro station to pay for the fair to the airport, then found a cafe with an outdoor table in a perfect location for people watching. It was an intersection of everyone getting off the metro train, people coming in and out of city hall, and university traffic. A kaliedescope of activity. Once again another delicious inexpensive meal in Portugal. Had “Loubo a Ribatejaua”. Some one said it was pork, but it tasted like a rib-eye steak. The potatoes and mixed vegetables were incredibly flavorful. And the people watching was just as good.

I swear it was rib-eye steak.  Regardless,
it was delicious.

I headed back to the hostel at three, hung out in the community room and smiled as the new arrivals became acquainted and acclimated. It would have been easy to stay. I might have to open a hostel in Seattle.

Just before six I said a final goodbye to the staff and left for the metro station. The train arrived at 6:12 and it took just over 30 minutes to get to the Porto Airport. I had pulled my heaviest pants, shoes, shirt and sweat shirt out of my bag. I had brought a second 'daypack' inside my backpack to carry things as I toured. I should have found a thinner one. I had planned on wearing the empty daypack under my sweatshirt if I had to and calling it a 'back-brace' if I was questioned. I also was going to wrap my travel blanket around my belling for that santa look. :-) Fortunately my bag slid into the carry-on tester. Good to go.

First time flying RyanAir. Last time flying RyanAir. As I was getting on the plane, the flight attendant said something and I responded with 'this is my first time flying RyanAir'. She said, “Oh you're in for a treat, did you bring your wallet?” Really screams volumes doesn't it? I don't mind paying a little extra, but the RyanAir upcharge system was getting old. And then I found out the seats don't recline. Ok, thats whining, but I mean really. It's worth a little more to have a slight degree of comfort for two hours. But if they reclined, you couldn't put as many seats in. I asked the flight attendant if reclining seats were extra, she laughed and said, “I don't think they've thought of that yet.” Like Jimmy Buffett so eloquently stated in his song, Changes in Lattitudes, Changes in Attitudes”, “If we couldn't laugh, we'd all go insane.....”

Landed in Dublin just before 11pm. Man it's cold in Ireland, glad I have a lot of clothes on. The funniest man in Ireland, Dave Baker, picked me up just after 11 and hauled me to his house. We caught up real quick and called it an early night. It was good to see a familiar face and share a couple laughs. Time to recharge a little in Ireland.

THE RAIN IN SPAIN....

THE RAIN IN SPAIN......

Wednesday, April 6, 2011.

I always wanted to backpack across Europe when I was younger. Learning the languages and the local customs. Experiencing other cultures and just flying by the seat of my pants. So I figured what the hell. The construction business is a little slow right now, specifically house sales. The kids are gone and I'm sitting around on my butt, so why not discover Europe a little. Thirty years later, but why not?

The weather forecast
in Ferrol, Spain

The weather forecast in Seattle for
the same time.  Huh.

Besides, a former University of Washington 

basketball player, Breanne Watson, is playing in Ferrol, Spain. Reading her blog, it sounded like she could do with seeing a familiar face for a few days. Breanne is a very accomplished writer, a dedicated blogger and a helluva basketball player. http://www.bwatson3.blogspot.com/   I've read her blog all four seasons that she's played in Europe. With varying degrees of envy and admiration. Several years ago, two other players from UW, Melissa Erickson and Alicia Heathcote were playing on the same team in Germany. They invited me over to watch and I did a whirlwind trip, heading over on a Wednesday and flying back that Sunday. It was an absolute ball. No pun intended.

The new pack, ready to roll.

I e-mailed Bre and she sounded interested in having some company.

So I stuffed my new backpack and off I went. Eight-forty-five am flight from Seattle to Philadelphia arriving there just after five pm. Six-thirty connecting flight to Madrid arriving Thursday morning.

THURSDAY, APRIL 7, 2011

The Madrid airport is huge. Big. Sprawling. Four terminals that are miles apart. I land at Terminal 2 and had to take a shuttle to my Iberia flight in Terminal 4. I landed just after 8 in the morning and by the time I clear immigration and customs and find the Iberia counter it's 9:40. Just missed the 9:35 connection to La Coruna (or A Coruna in Spanish). The next flight is at 11:40am arriving in La Coruna just after one. Terminal four in Madrid is mammoth. The gate for my flight is at the far end of the terminal and they have signs posted telling you how many more minutes you have to walk to get to your gate. The signs started with ten minutes and they weren't kidding. Air Iberia really stuffs their planes. I'm six feet tall and my knees nearly bang the seat in front of me. Straightening the legs isn't even an option. Fortunately, it is only just over an hour flight.

La Coruna is a quaint little town on the northwest coast of Spain and the closest airport to Ferrol (pronounced fuh-ROLE, took a bit to get that right) where Bre lives and plays. Once you're in La Coruna's airport, you can taxi to Ferrol, or go by bus. Taxi is about $60 Euros ($90 US at this time), the bus from downtown La Coruna to Ferrol is $6.80 Euro, no-brainer. And it runs every hour on the half hour and it's a fifty minute trip.

Squid

I take the local bus from the airport to the Estacion Autobuses in downtown La Coruna and just miss the 1:30 bus. Next direct bus leaves at 2:30. There's a little cafeteria in the bus depot; it's been a long day, so I sit down for a beer. Estrella Galicia is the regional brew, I get one of those and as I take a sip, the waiter puts a plate down in front of me. I shake my head no, to tell him I didn't order anything and he just shakes his head back and says, “En la casa, gratis”. Free appetizers, on the house. This was commonplace all over Ferrol as well. Many of the appetizers that came with the drinks were enough to constitute a small meal. The plate they put in front of me was squid. Never had it before, it wasn't bad. A little chewy, but it was soaked in an olive oil, vinegar and pepper sauce. Great flavor. I had noticed a salad in the display case that looked like a tuna-potato combination. When I asked “Que?”, what's that, the answer was too rapid fire Spanish for me, so I did the american thing, I just grunted. Next thing I know a plate of that hit the counter in front of me too. Again I apologized and said I didn't mean to order it. He called the manager over, who spoke English. I was sure I had screwed the pooch, but it was another sample for me to try. Unbelievable. The manager explained it was called russian salad and he actually spoke very good English, my Spanish is pathetic in comparison. When I asked him how he learned to speak English so well, he said he lived and worked in England for 22 years. Then it occurred to me, he didn't have a british accent. I asked about that. He said when people from Scotland or Ireland talk to him he has their accent. He just adapts to the accent he hears. I said he was a chameleon linguist. He laughed.

Bre and I had arranged to meet at the bus station in Ferrol at 3:45pm. I had hoped to catch the earlier flight and surprise her, but it worked out well anyway. I got to the Estacion De Autobuses in Ferrol at 3:20 and she rolled up right on time (four years of playing Division I college basketball, you're prompt or you run, that's the way to develop good life skills). Our first stop was her apartment, so I could take a shower and scrape 28 hours of growth off my face. I had slept a bit on the cross country flight from Seattle to Philly, surprisingly, for a daytime flight. On the flight to Madrid, I lucked out with my own row of three seats, so I lifted the armrests and laid down and slept a fair amount of time. I also caught a quick 30 minute nap on the bus ride from La Coruna.

But there is nothing like a hot shower to bring you back to life after traveling 28 hours. It had been a few years since I'd actually seen Bre in person. We had contact by e-mail over the years, but once she graduated the UW and started playing professionally in Europe, we only saw each other rarely at the occasional UW related event. After watching her play four seasons at UW, I was surprised how thin she looked. Not that she looked bad, on the contrary, just thin. We went to a cafe at the Plaza de Espagna and caught up on a couple years real quick, then we had to get back to her apartment. She had practice at nine and needed to get ready to head over there. She had also been horribly sick the last couple days and wasn't going to practice that night, but needed to show up at the gym to get cleared by the doctor.

For my stay in Ferrol, I had arranged to couchsurf. http://www.couchsurfing.org/ Bre has two teammates as roommates in a three bedroom apartment and I didn't want to impose at the end of a long season. Everyone was making arrangements to get out of town as soon as the season was over the following week, so I figured they needed as much space as they could get. And couchsurfing is a great way to get to know a city.

I had actually mentioned it to Bre earlier in the year as a way of meeting some english speaking locals or expats over there. She tried to connect, but it never worked out. I had a lot more luck.

Ferrol is a town of about 75 thousand. I found several ex-pats and english speaking locals. I put out about ten requests and received two offers to surf. One was a 29 year old ex-pat from Chicago, named Chris, who is teaching English in Ferrol. The other was a 39 year old local named Sabela who is a clown in Children's hospitals all over the Galicia region. She travels quite a bit for work.

Chris was coming back from Barcelona, so I wasn't sure of his arrival time, but he definitely wanted to go to Bre's last home game Saturday night. He played football and basketball in high school until he suffered a torn ACL.

Sabela wasn't going to be home from working at the hospital til ten that night, so I was just going to hang out at practice and then surf with her for the first couple of days.

We met a couple of Bre's teammates before practice and they helped me buy an international phone for local calls. Not a bad $20 investment. We got to the gym around eight and were waiting for the doctor to clear Bre. She had thought she was going to practice after we hit Plaza de Espagna, because she was feeling better, but she wasn't quite over the sickness hump yet and as it got closer to practice time it was clear she needed more rest.

And then jet-lag hit.

Just before the team started practicing at 9pm, my brain decided to shut down. I decided to call Sabela and fortunately she was home early. I wouldn't have to wait til ten and I really wasn't sure if I would have made it. Bre and I had checked a map and knew Sabela's apartment was very close to the gym, but the brain wasn't working. I called Sabela and asked for directions, but couldn't make it clear where I was. As I was talking to Sabela and walking by a bar, a waitress was stacking chairs. I asked the waitress in Spanish where the street was I was looking for and she just looked at me. I handed her the phone with Sabela on the line and asked where in Spanish. She had quite the animated conversation with Sabela and walked me two blocks over and pointed me down the street. She told me in Spanish to go just past a black sign that was hanging on a building. Perfect. Found it. Besides the fact that Chris was on his way back from Barcelona, I decided to couchsurf with Sabela because she wanted to work on her English and I wanted to work on my Spanish. It was almost a disaster in trying to find her apartment. Thank goodness for the chica at the bar.

Couchsurfing is a misnomer at times. That was the case with Sabela. I got a spare bedroom, with a full-size bed. She had mentioned in her e-mail confirming that she had some friends playing in a band that night and her and some other friends were going and I was welcome to come along. By the time I got settled, the second wind kicked in.

Besides being a clown in children's hospitals, Sabela also has a troupe that does puppet shows. Two of those people joined us. We went to a club in downtown Ferrol called Manchito Cosa. It roughly translates to 'That dribble thing' or 'that spot thing', like the one you get on your shirt. It was a five piece band, that sort of played Brazilian music. Great rhythm music, sort of Kenny G does the Samba with the occasional Bob Marley rift thrown in.

We actually got out of there early, just before 2 am, which is when things in Ferrol actually start heating up. But Sabela had to work early the next day in another town close by. It was a good night, even with the jet lag battles.

FRIDAY, APRIL 8, 2011

The day before I arrived, Bre had spent the whole day in bed, sick. Thursday she was a little better. When we got together Friday morning, I could tell she was almost all the way back. We both like to get out and walk and see things, so we did a loop around Ferrol. Down to the water and back up to her neighborhood. On the loop, we stopped at a little marina and hit one of the cafe's across the street for a hot chocolate (cola coa) and a coke. After a half hour of conversation, we switched to beer. It was afternoon. It was also a beautiful sunny day. The day before was sunny when I pulled into town. There is no rain in Spain, at least not in Ferrol as far as I'm concerned. Bre said it actually rains more in Ferrol than it does in Seattle and it's hard blustery rain, umbrella type rain. You can function fine in Seattle without owning an umbrella because our rain is so mist like and soft. Bre was even surprised how nice it was.

Catching up with Bre

The appetizers at this cafe were even better. First came a bread and cheese plate, then a pretty big basket of bread and a plate of meatballs and then another plate of just cheese. We had two big beers each, a coke, a hot chocolate and all that food for less than $8 Euros. I could get used to this. We finished our loop walk after the beer and snacks and got back to Bre's apartment. We then walked to a little grocery store to buy supplies because I was making my now world famous crepes for breakfast the next morning and introducing Bre to Sabela. That's one of the unwritten rules of couchsurfing. When you stay with someone, you bring something, wine, food, cook a meal or take them out. Something, you return the generosity. It seems like common sense, but it is lost on many people. It was actually fun shopping the grocery store with someone who had insider knowledge.

After the shopping we split up, Bre headed home to rest before practice and I went back to put the supplies away and check email.

Sabela had given me a key to her apartment and told me to make myself at home. She apologized that she had to work so much on Friday and couldn't show me around, but said she'd show me the town Saturday before she left for the night. She had a birthday party she was attending in another town and wouldn't be back til Sunday morning.

I also sent Chris a message confirming the game for Saturday and planning to meet him at the gym before game time. I also mentioned that Bre and I planned to 'hit the town', as it were, after the game and would love for him to join us and any other expats he thought might be interested.

Just after 8, I strolled the three blocks to the gym and decided to stop for a beer at the cafe/bar where the girl took the phone directions for me. Beautiful warm early evening in Ferrol so I sat out side and read. Did I mention it's always warm and sunny in Ferrol? :-) Chips and olives for appetizers with my $1.30 euro beer. Decided it was too nice to head in so soon, so I had another and kept reading. Another warm sunny evening in sun-drenched Ferrol. :-)

Just before nine thirty I walked across the street to the gym to catch practice. Bre's team only signed eight players for the season and two of them are injured. A bunch of junior team girls and the team president's wife showed up to fill in practice. The talent disparity was incredibly obvious, but at least it was practice.

After practice Bre and the post player Selma, who helped me buy the phone, went out for quick 'nightcap'. I had planned on making crepes first thing in the morning, but Bre needed to sleep in with the game tomorrow night. I had suggested an early breakfast and that she take a nap, but she's not a napper, sleeping later on game day was her routine. I was afraid her and Sabela would miss each other. I had told Sabela about Bre and asked if it was ok if she came over to join us for breakfast. Sabela was actually excited about having another person to work with on her English.

SATURDAY APRIL 9, 2011

It worked out perfect. Sabela had arrived home after two am and slept past ten. Bre had planned to come over between 11:30 and noon. I started the crepes at 11:30.

Usually when I make crepes I just have raspberry jam for filling. At the store I grabbed some bananas for filling as well. Bre took something and made it better. She put both the jam and the bananas together in the crepes. It was delicious.

The three of us stood in Sabela's tiny kitchen eating our crepes and talking. Bre and Sabela hit it off well. Bre's 6'1 and Sabela's just over five feet tall. It's always amazing when people meet basketball players like that, especially when they're not used to someone that tall. When Bre walked in, Sabela said to me, “She's soooooo tall”, with a big smile on her face. Later Bre used a line about Sabela that I've heard other basketball players say as a term of endearment for someone relatively diminutive, “She's so cute.” Sabela actually showed us some of her puppeting skills and then took us for a walk around town.

Bre and Sabela crossing the street
in Ferrol.

Jamon to the left, free bread up top, pig intestines
and a potato below right.

We ended up at a cafe/bar next to the fish market and the public market in downtown Ferrol. Sabela and I had beers and Bre had water with her game five hours away. The first free appetizers were chicken wings. The next appetizer was interesting. The potatoes were really good, but the pig intestines were an acquired taste. At least I tried them. :-) Then we got the obligatory basket of bread and we actually ordered a jamon appetizer. It's a plate of cured ham, sliced paper thin with an outstanding flavor. Delicious. I later found out that the pigs used to produce this are raised in the same way Kobe beef is raised, special diet, massages, and the meat will sell for up to $120 euro a pound. Which explains the razor thin slices. The plate was only $4 Euros.

Bre headed back to her apartment to rest before the game and I did some walking, while Sabela went to her apartment to get ready for her trip. Sabela had decided to come watch part of the basketball game because she wasn't leaving until 8:30 and the game started at seven so she would see most of it.

At 6:40 we left her apartment for the three block stroll to the gym. Right as we turned the corner Chris called my cellphone to ask where we were. Since there was only one guy standing outside the gym with a cellphone to his head, I said, “Look to your right down the block, I'm the one waving.”

Chris had already bought a ticket and been inside. It was festival seating and we got there early enough to get mid-court seats.

Bre plays in the League Feminina 2, “A” Division. She pretty much had the league offensive rebounding title wrapped up by this game. I watched her play four years at the University of Washington and that doesn't surprise me. I've always loved the lunch pail and hard hat type basketball she played. My favorite kinda player. A silky jump-shot is nice and ball-handling skills are fun to watch too, but give me the player who owns the boards, sets the killer picks and does the dirty work. The nuts and bolts of winning a basketball game, in my humble opinion.

Bre #11 on the court in the last home game
in Ferrol this season.

Midway through the first quarter, Chris is sitting somewhat slack-jawed. He played basketball in high school, which means his games were the same time as the girls, but on the opposite court as the girls, so he'd never really seen a girls'/womens' game. I asked what he thought and he said, “They're good. I mean they can REALLY play. I had no idea they were this good. I would have come to these games all year.” Figures.

Bre's team only lost two games at home this season and tonight they kept up the same trend. They were firing on all cylinders and won by more than 20 in a walk. Where they struggled was on the road and it kept them from being one of the top teams in the league. They ended up finishing sixth, just missing the playoffs.

Sabela enjoyed the game as well, but had to leave after the third quarter for her party. She enjoyed meeting Chris and was glad to have another person to speak English with.

After the game I introduced Bre and Chris and she went to shower and get dressed. She needed about half an hour or so, so Chris and I hit the place across the street and talked. Another great couchsurfer and world traveler type. We had a great 45 minute conversation waiting for Bre and actually hit some existential topics. We really had a lot in common in our backgrounds. At one point I think we solved some serious questions, but unfortunately the universe wasn't listening at that time.

Bre and Chris at dinner.

When Bre showed up, we headed out for dinner. She had a great local restaurant she had planned to take us to. Chris of course had been there and we settled in. Bre and Chris ordered a couple different items, so we could all have a little of everything. The octopus was particularly good. I had never had it before and it was delicious. It came cut up in a mixture and Chris was actually kinda surprised, he was expecting to get the whole thing and we would just cut it up. It was still really good. During dinner Chris and Bre talked quite a bit about Ferrol and how they went to the same cafes, bars and restaurants and never crossed paths. Amazing for such a small town. He also told Bre there were actually about ten expats living there teaching English at the University.

After dinner we strolled to Chris' apartment and met his roommate, Mike and another local. Chris got changed and we 'hit the town', as it were. :-) We ran into some more English speaking people from Europe that Chris new and hit a couple of nightclubs. He really made some great connections in Ferrol. Amazing what you can do when you don't practice twice a day, five days a week and play a game every week..... I was having such a great time, the drinks were really flowing. Finally a little after three am, Chris headed home and Bre and I walked for a bit and then decided to call it a night too, just before 4am. I had one last drink in my hand from a bar we had just left, they actually give you to-go cups to take your drinks with you when you leave. Bre had been my drink police for a while, since I was starting to have a little too much fun. We had run into two girls from Britain and I swore one of them had a Swedish accent. Which is ok because she thought I had a southern US accent. Clearly, we were both experiencing alcohol induced audio sensory impairment. :-) When I handed Bre my drink to hold walking down the street, she handed it back to me empty. I couldn't believe she did that to me. The next day I thanked her profusely. She prevented a physical disaster. The night had been so much fun. Borderline, too much.

When we split up, I had a few blocks to walk to Sabela's apartment. When I laid down, the room was spinning ever so slightly, I just hoped I fell asleep before disaster struck.

SUNDAY APRIL 10, 2011

Kris Kristofferson is a great songwriter, his lyrics are amazing. Figures it would take a Rhodes Scholar in English to have such command of the language as to create mental images that rival what can be conveyed by the greek language. He wrote the lyrics for the Janis Joplin hit, Me and Bobby McGee that has the great line, “feeling nearly faded as my jeans”. He wrote another song, To Beat the Devil, with a verse, “back when failure had me locked out on the wrong side of the door, when no one stood behind me but my shadow on the floor, and lonesome was more than a state of mind”. But the line that really applied this morning was from his song, The Best of All Possible Worlds, “I woke up next morning feeling like my head was gone and like my thick old tongue was lickin something sick and wrong”....... And if Bre hadn't protected me, it would have been worse. That's what friends are for, to protect you when you don't do it yourself. :-)

Sabela's living room where she took
a bedframe and turned it into a
trellis.

Chris had arranged for an expat dinner Sunday night at an Argentinean restaurant in Ferrol. We planned to meet at 8 at another bar first. After the previous night of revelry, I slept til almost noon. A little rough around the edges, but not much worse for wear. Sabela arrived home just before three. The birthday party she attended the night before ended just after six in the morning. Sabela decided to join us to meet the other expats, more english speakers. She enjoys learning a language as much as I do. She's just a lot more progressed at it than I am. When I first arrived, we made an agreement, she would speak in English and I would speak in Spanish. We would correct each others words and syntax and go from there. Great arrangement.

After taking a little nap, sending emails and checking the internet, I sat down in the living room where Sabela was watching TV. She mentioned all the shows from the US have Spanish language put in. I told her that was called dubbing. She asked if foreign films on US television were dubbed into English. I told her that the US doesn't really play foreign films on television. You have to go to theaters to see them and most of them just have subtitles. I told her that one of my favorite events in Seattle was the Seattle International Film Festival, www.siff.net/ where they show over 400 films in just over three weeks. I said, “As a matter of fact, my favorite foreign film from the festival last year was from Spain. It was called “Cell 211 or Celda dos once”. http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1242422/

She says, “Yes I know this film. Do you know the protagonist, the man who speaks in a growl?”

I said, “Yes, the character was Malamadre, that was a brilliant job by the actor Luis..... something.”

She replied, “Luis Tosar, he's from here, Galicia, he's a friend of mine, we had dinner a while ago.”

Plaza de Espagna

Unbelievable. It never ceases to amaze me what a small world it is.

Just before 7:30 we left to meet Bre at Plaza de Espagna to walk together to the first bar. We got there about ten minutes before eight and saw Miguel the guy who had stopped by Chris' apartment during the carnage of the previous night. Then Bre placed him. He worked in the bar we were in and had served her several months before.... things that make you go huh. Huh.

Chris showed up with his roommate, one of the girls who was audio impaired the night before and another expat, Elise (not sure of the spelling, but that's how her name was pronounced, so I'm just gonna roll with it) from Minnesota/Wisconsin. She was an absolute kick in the pants. She was also teaching English in Ferrol. After a few drinks we headed to the Argentinean restaurant and they were waiting for us. Chris is another world traveller like Bre, gets immersed in the local community and meets people. Every bar/cafe/restaurant we went to they knew him and treated us really well. It's great to be with someone who's connected and liked. Can you say free drinks. :-) He's the kinda ambassador who gives traveling Americans a really good name.

Sabela was a little tired from the night before and decided to pass on dinner after drinks and went home. Plus I think the rapid fire English might have been a little overwhelming as tired as she was.

Elise fit right in with our rolling train wreck. As we were walking along, she blurts out, “I can't wait to get some BEEF MEAT.” We all stopped and rolled with laughter. She gasped in astonishment and said, “I can't believe this. I used to be articulate and intelligent sounding. Now I'm losing my english skills speaking Spanish so much.”

Miguel, me and Cavewoman
and platters of 'Beef Meat'.

Of course, to ease her pain, we piled on and called her “Cavewoman” all night and constantly offered to pass the 'beef meat' and were asking, “cavewoman's beef meat good”? I'm honestly shocked I didn't get a drink dumped on my head. :-) The dinner was phenomenal, the laughter was better. At one point, Cavewoman, who had arrived in Ferrol within days of Bre last September, look over and said, “I wish we had met when we first got here, we could have hung out all the time.” A little later Bre looked over at me and said a little misty eyed, “This could have been so much fun.”

Called it a relatively early night in Ferrol. Home just before midnight. Monday was going to be my last day in Ferrol, more of Europe to see. At dinner, people were talking about places in Europe they really loved and the name Porto (or Oporto) Portugal kept coming up and since I didn't have any plans, it sounded like a place worth checking out. I'd do some research on line in the morning, before the four of us, me, Chris, Bre and Sabela met for a sort of farewell lunch.

MONDAY APRIL 11, 2011

Bre does clams.  

Sabela had to get her car registered today, so I had the morning to myself. She was going to meet us at the cafe next to the fish market. Chris had never been there, so he was in for a treat.

I met Bre early so we could walk and talk a bit. It always saddens me when departure is imminent.

We hit the cafe and waited for the other two. When they joined us we got a big plate of clams, first time Bre had ever had clams. A hit. Sabela and Chris had to head off to work at two, so Bre and I decided to take a long walk around a different side of the city. We found a bench overlooking a bay at low tide and had a great conversation for a couple of hours. We both had to get back and start packing, me to head south and Bre for the end of her season. We said goodbye; promised to meet up this summer in Seattle and swap travel stories. Can't wait.

Last lunch in sunny Ferrol.

The train and bus both run from A Coruna to Porto. My preference is train, but I couldn't find the exact train schedule online. So I thought I'd catch the 7:30 am bus from Ferrol and that would give me enough time to work things out to Porto. Sabela said she wouldn't be home from work til, 2 in the morning, but wanted me to knock on her door to say goodbye before I left. After Bre and I said goodbye, I had to get a towel (can't believe I forgot to bring one) and a bar of soap (forgot that too). I also wanted to get Sabela a small plant as a thank you for her hospitality. I found a store in Ferrol with housewares, but no one spoke English. With my broken Spanish and fabulous mime skills, I managed to get the message across and get what I needed. There was a flower shop on the way back to her apartment that had a miniature pink rose plant. Got it.

An early dry night. :-)

TUESDAY APRIL 12, 2011

My alarm went off at 6 am, plenty of time for the 7:30 bus. I just can't seem to light a fire though. I'm in no hurry and really don't want to be. I think Spain is rubbing off on me a little. By the time I stuff everything into my back pack, organize everything and lay out the directions I've jotted down, I've missed the 7:30 bus. That's ok. There's one at 8:30.  The church outside my bedroom started ringing its bell every morning at 8 am.  Total number or rings for the hour at the top of the hour and one ring at the bottom of the hour.  That's the video.

As I'm dragging my bag to the front door, Sabela emerges, sleepy eyed. She thanks me profusely for the plant, I thank her profusely for the hospitality. She notes that I've missed the bus I planned on taking. I shrug my shoulders and say there's one at 8:30 and smile. She smiles back. We say goodbye and hope to cross paths in the future. She's planning on meeting Bre for coffee and she got Chris' number to have lunch with him.

It's a slow ten minute stroll to the bus depot and I look around Ferrol, seeing it differently than when I arrived.

I get to the bus depot at 9, buy a ticket and head to the departure platform. At 9:20 I climb on the bus and at 9:29 it rolls out of the Estacion de Autobuses in Ferrol.  I'm heading south.