Another glass of port? Why yes!

One of the things we wanted to do while we were in France was to travel around Europe. Heck, we can jump hop on a train and be in a new country in a few hours. Well, we haven't done a very good job at that. Our visions of weekends in Switzerland have mostly turned into the reality of weekends prowling IKEA and other daily drudgery. The French have their own phrase 'la vie quotidien' for the requirements of daily life - which here can easily eat up all of your time. Everything just takes a little longer in France. So, when our friend Helen called up and said her fiance was on a boys' trip and did we want to go to Portugal for the weekend, we said "YES!" Chores can wait.

Neither of us had been to Portugal before, and after a weekend in one city I don't think we can say "Portugal? Oh yeah, been there, done that," but it was still cool to go to another country for the weekend. We're meeting Helen at the hotel and the hotel had already told us to take bus 58. But, where was bus 58? We found the bus stop, but all the busses were numbered 600-606. Then the info booth told us bus 58 is gone, we need to take the new metro.

There are 5 different metro lines - wow, just like Paris or Lyon, but... hold on here! There's only one physical track. Who do they think they are fooling? The different lines just go different distances along the track. There is a metro waiting so we grab our tickets and jump on. We're at the end of the track so it can only go towards our destination. We're getting comfortable when we remembered we better check to see if we need to compost our tickets! France and many other countries use an honor system on public transit, your ticket is good anytime, but you have to timestamp it yourself so you can't use it a second time. If you forget or "forget" to stamp it you can be fined if they catch you. In France there are small boxes labeled "composter" for this. From that label we now call stamping "composting." So, here we are sitting in the metro car when I burst out with "Oh my god! Did you see a composter?" "Oh no, I don't see one." "Quick! I'll check the escalator!" A conversation that makes no sense in any language except our own. Hurry up and compost? What are those wackos talking about?

Dashing down the escalator I spot them at the bottom - composters! (STAMP!) (STAMP!) I dash back up and jump on the metro. Phew! Still the metro doesn't appear in any hurry to depart... And now I notice some other passengers start to look uneasy after seeing my dash. A few jump off to look around. Finally we set off and of course we are not checked. Later I found out bus 58 still exists, it just got renumbered to 602. Argh! OK, if the route doesn't change, the bus should still have the same number! There oughta be a law. I don't care if the other bus numbers are up to 5 digits, bus 58 stays bus 58!

Porto is definitely a tourist town, but the tourists haven't shown up yet. Beautiful weather and no crowds are going to make this a good weekend.



The next day we head to the riverside where cute outdoor cafes abound. And we have them pretty much to ourselves. Monica says she doesn't know who she feels more sorry for - the panhandlers or the cafe owners. The docks and cafes are deserted and sure enough, each cafe has one guy leaning on the doorjam quietly watching us as we check their menu boards. Sorry guys, we can only eat one lunch.



The city itself is beautiful with tiled buildings and cobblestone streets. The people are very nice too with a relaxed attitude. For example, what time does this clock say? I think it's "Just about 6 or 7 o'clock." If I had gotten the camera out quicker I would have gotten exactly six or seven.



The traditional Portuguese fare was quite good, but for dinner we couldn't resist the warmth and smells that night from an older Russian woman's restaurant. She made us feel like we were her kids as she cooked up a big Russo-Portuguese meal and hugged us goodbye like she hated to see us go back out into the uncaring world.

The next day we went port tasting and it was nice to have tiny groups. No rushing and plenty of port to go around. As we walked/weaved along the river afterwards, an enterprising guy apologizing for his lack of English (why do people apologize for their English? We're in their country - WE should be apologizing about our lack of Portuguese!) approached us about taking a scenic boat ride on the river. Why not? Plus Monica and Helen were already charmed and giggling.



It was a nice long ride and we got a chance to see six bridges and nice scenery from a comfy seat while enjoying a fine glass of port. Now this is living!