.jpg)
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 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. |
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. |
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. |
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment