I cannot imagine a more picture perfect view:
Zach just snapped this picture from the window in our spacious two-bedroom apartment in Porto. The girls are asleep, we’ve been nursing a bottle of the eponymous port, and the sounds of the city are drifting into our sitting room. If you haven’t wanted to visit this amazing country before now, please reconsider, because you are missing out.
It’s hard to believe that our day started with a dreary drizzle in Nazare, the first less-than-perfect weather we’ve had on this trip so far. Since there isn’t much too do in a beach town in the rain we packed up and hopped in a cab to the nearest train station, which turned out to be much nearer than we’d expected. We arrived 2 hours early at a station with no services, no bathroom, and no other passengers. The girls played for a while and Zach and Melina found a supermercado where they put together a picnic for our train ride.
It was then that a young mother strolled her little boy into the station, and we spent the next hour with Vanessa and little Miguelangelo. Vanessa knew about as much English as I know Portuguese so our conversation was quite labored, but she had the desperation of a young mom who has been stuck at home with a toddler and is dying to talk to any adult about about anything at all. I’ve been there and I felt her pain. So the girls made a new friend and shared their batman and toy story toys with the 20-month old. Diane avoided his kisses like the plague while Melina showed off and batted her eyelashes for Vanessa. They even put on an impromptu performance of (surprise surprise) Frozen, which Vanessa and Miguel knew quite well and even joined in with the singing and dancing.
When their train arrived we said bye-byes and tchaus with many kisses and hugs, and the station seemed sadly empty. So we busied ourselves with searching out snails on the rainy pathways and peeing in the bushes (since the restrooms were locked). I felt terrible doing this at first until Zach and I recalled the 3-hour bus ride we took in Peru where the bus stopped for a bathroom break at a shack in the middle of the desert that had no bathrooms. Every single passenger unzipped and squatted or aimed right there on the side of the road. Remembering that moment got us giggling so hard it didn’t seem all that weird to let our kids pee in the vacant lot by the train station.
Our tiny regional train came exactly on time and we were some of the only passengers so we changed seats frequently to get the best views and to share our cheese/bread/nutella/apricot lunches. The scenery was unique with soggy plains that were clearly cultivated and sectioned off for some purpose, but we have yet to figure out what. We did catch sight of a few cranes’ nests perched on the top of electric poles and some farm animals that set Diane to belting out Old MacDonald.
Three hours and two trains later we arrived in the city of Porto, surprisingly chipper. After reading some initial descriptions of this city (it was described as dirty and hard working) I almost left it off of the itinerary, but thank goodness I reconsidered. Where Lisbon is the modern city full of sights to see, Porto is atmospheric old world Europe at its finest. Here you don’t follow an agenda for the day but maybe just eat and drink and take a dip in the dirty river and then drink some more. Oh, and it is gorgeous (see picture above). The houses are dirty and covered in tiles and iron balconies, and each seems to lean over the winding streets precariously. It makes for some breathtaking views. Our apartment looks out across the Duoro River to the sister town of Vila Nova de Gaia, home to the famous port caves where you can sample the sickeningly sweet fortified wine to your heart’s content (Zach is already drooling over this prospect).
After sampling the bread and jams set out by our host we set out to explore and eventually settled on a riverside cafe for the town’s famous Francesinha sandwich. This is no delicacy, but is Porto’s answer to the Gusburger. It is 5+ kinds of meats piled on white bread and covered in melted cheese and gravy and French fries. A heart attack on a plate. Ours came with a fried egg as well.
The girls were excited to order lemonade which we were told was fresh. Diane gulped half of hers down in ecstasy but Melina whined that hers was too sour. We ignored her until I tried it and realized that it was in fact just lemon juice, and we were supposed to add packets of sugar ourselves. I love that Diane didn’t mind in the slightest!
Melina quickly fell madly in love with our waiter who teased her throughout the meal. Portuguese men especially have no qualms about touching other people’s children, and the girls have become accustomed to being kissed and tickled and spoiled wherever we go. I think they’d mind it more if the attention didn’t so often come with free candy!
So between the Francesinha, a plate of garlicky clams, some tiny bolinhos de bacalhau (cod cakes), port sangria, and Zach’s gigantic beer, we were stuffed, happy, and ready to turn in for the night. I’m not sure exactly how we will spend our four nights in Porto, but it will likely involve a lot of eating, drinking, and chewing scenery. Oh, and port wine caves.
Traveling Together 