Porto, Portugal Day 14

Up at 5:30 to scramble about getting our bags downstairs. Fifteen minutes till our driver arrives to take us to the airport. Our man was right on time at 6:45 driving a black Mercedes sedan – This seems to be the go-to pick-up and drop-off vehicle. At the airport we checked our bags onto Ryan Air, a budget airline that is literally NO frills. Jenny’s purse and my backpack were considered two items. We had to pay 20 Euros to bring aboard our typical carry-on suitcase. It was another brilliant flight. Jenny dealt with two screaming children one that kept kicking her seat back. I dealt with one passenger who fell asleep on my shoulder while two more who sat in front of me carried on a loud, animated, non-stop conversation in Portuguese during the ENTIRE flight. Luckily the flight was only 75 minutes or they might have run out of things to say.

Off ofthe plane now in Porto, we are truly excited. This is a city known famous for its excellent wine and the city from which sprang the nation. Hence the Port portion of Portugal. Since we were checking in early, prior to noon, we had to store our bags until 3:30 when our room would be ready. We spent the next three hours munching lunch, traversing the touristy old part of the city as well as the huge open market in the city center.

We passed several restaurants because they appeared too fancy or were too bustlingly busy, and settled on small place, Café de Bolhao. It advertised combination plates at very reasonable prices. Operated by three friendly Portuguese 30 somethings, it has a carefree, cheerful vibe. We both ordered Spinach Quiche, Broccoli Cheese Soup and beer.  The cookies on display looked good so I had one of them as well. Excellent meals for under 16 Euros total.

Marching on, we found the Grand Mercado. This is a giant marketplace easily covering 4-5 acres. Once past the entrance we found that there were endless stalls in a huge central courtyard, stalls offering vegetables, meat, fish, spices, candy, bread, coffee, nuts and grains and more. All this was covered by a glass ceiling. The three-story building that surrounded the courtyard contained one empty storefront after another, all of them under renovation. The place was crowded, I mean jammed with people – and this was noon on a Thursday.

We next tramped back onto the street and found the main Tourist street, shops, restaurants and bars, I do not want to go back there again. This was even more crowded than the market. Imagine a Mardi gras crowd without the costumes and without the music. The road rose and fell, sometimes steeply. All the roads seem to be mostly cobblestone and the walks - stone mosaics. Many of the building fronts were colorfully decorated with tile, alternating blue and green and orange and yellow. Got off the beaten track and away from the massive mob of minions to make our way back to the hotel visiting several shops along the way.

The hotel allowed us in a little early. We were quite pleased with the accommodations. Each succeeding hotel seems to be an upgrade over the last. Some comments about the accommodations. All the rooms contained King-sized, FIRM mattresses and each was well stocked with many pillows. All the shower stalls have been elongated with glass walls and overhead showerheads. The bathroom sinks have all been square. Mini fridges have all been well stocked with super expensive beverages and snacks. Televisions in the rooms all had access to several English channels. We kept ours tuned to the BBC.

Going up to check out the Hotel’s penthouse restaurant shortly (17th & 18th floors) Will give you the particulars in a little while.

So, the restaurant was nice enough but the view from the top of the building – spectacular! Commenting on this to Jenny, a gentleman sitting nearby overheard and offered “Yep, it’s the second best view of the city.” He went on to say, “The best view is from Miradouro da Vitória across the river.” He introduced himself as Stephan, a former (perhaps current hippy and world traveler. Gregarious and charming, he was eager to talk and swap experiences. We ordered cocktails and talked. As a medic he claimed to have been present when President Reagan was shot and in close proximity to the British Queen during her visit to the states. Now an ex-pat, he recently moved to Portugal from Norway and was currently living in Porto. He in turn learned of our interesting backgrounds and eagerly questioned us on the details of our lives.

It was a delightful interlude, but our reservations at the Baccarum Steakhouse called us away. The Restaurant happened to be no more than two blocks away. Yay! When we entered we were the only ones – reservations seemed unnecessary. Then again we briefly forgot that dinner time is muuuuch later than it is back home. When we left it was full and they were turning away customers. I repeat, on this side of the world, dinner is taken much later than in the States. We both ordered thick portions of Black Angus, seasoned and cooked perfectly. Coolers to the left of the entrance contained hanging slabs of beef, Periodically, throughout the evening, one was taken down hauled out and chunks sawed off. I sat with my back to this, but Jenny watched the process. I knew it was happening from the grating sound of the saw on bone.

The gentleman who took our order was a trainee with as poor a command of English as ours was of Spanish. I ordered stout but received lager. When I pointed this out, he looked downcast. Another more senior employee rushed in and assured me it would be taken care of. It was. We never saw the other young man again. I imagine they took him out back and shot him.

Retired early to be ready for our city tour tomorrow.

Boa Noite! (We’re in Portugal, now)

I am posting a selection of the thousands of pictures we took on Facebook. Look me up there and see what we saw!