Date: Apr 11, 2010
When I taught school, I was sometimes asked if I was interested in being an administrator (not by administrators, I should add) to which I always answered that I wasn’t willing to sell my soul for an extra ten percent. Well, sadly, I learned what I would sell my soul for -free internet access. I’m such a geek that I need to stay connected and surf the net even when I’m having wonderful experiences on the road. Our hotel charges $7 per hour for internet access and being the cheap bastard that I am, I didn’t want to pay that. I went to the local internet connection point, but they don’t have wireless. He said that the MacDonald’s across the street did however. It was then I realized that I would actually go inside a MacDonald's abroad, sit there, have a Big Mac, or whatever they call it here, and connect. A sad moment in my life. Happily, I didn’t have to because the little place where we took our lunch offered the same, but just the realization of the depths of my geekiness was a sad moment.
Speaking of food, Burger King offers a “Cheesy Whopper”, which I think is probably a pretty apt description. But all together we are very impressed with the freshness of the food. Everything seems to have come direct from the garden. Vegetables served are for the most part in season and prepared in such a way to emphasize their natural flavors. Portions are generous in restaurants, and although we have a moderate level of sticker shock, that comes mostly from knowing what prices used to be in Southern Europe. All that’s changed with the European Union where free movement means higher prices all the way round with the requirements of a standardized currency.
The poor, dilapidated villages of the past seem to have been exchanged for the modern, brightly painted condos for which Northern Europeans clamor. They come here in droves throughout the year as the drabness of winter is replaced by the sun of the Iberian coast. We stopped for lunch in one coastal town where the beach is fully ½ mile (1 km) wide. Every 100 yards they have walkways extending halfway out just so you don’t have to kick sand in everybody’s face as you trudge across the beach looking at all the “Sizzling bodies” filling every inch of sand, as one book describes it. It’s clearly the widest beach I’ve ever seen, and it was several miles long. Sadly (for Jim) there was only one sizzling body on the beach, and, for some reason, Carol kept steering me in the opposite direction, so we walked in solitude along the shore.
We also stopped at Aviero which has a series of connected canals and the cool thing was that they had free bicycle use. We gladly hopped on two of them and pedaled our way around town for an hour or so, looping over the bridges which connected one canal to another. It felt wonderful to have the wind in our faces, and since it was Saturday there wasn’t much foot or auto traffic so we moved freely about town.
On a much sadder note, one thing I discovered when I opened up the Washington Post online last night was the crash of the Polish President’s plane. Now I wouldn’t suggest that his death was in any way more tragic than any other death. We have a dear friend back home who has suffered from Parkinson’s and kidney failure. He has decided to go off dialysis, and we check daily for a message from our daughter to tell us that Sam has found a more restful place than he has experienced in many years. However, with that said, having just spent some wonderful moments with my new-found Polish friends, it seemed particularly poignant. I couldn’t help wonder where they were when they heard the news, and about their reaction to it. I can only imagine how I would have felt being in a faraway place and learning that Kennedy was killed, for example. I’m sure they miss the ability to share their grief with their friends and family. My heart went out to them last night.
It’s Sunday in Porto, and the city shuts down. Only churches and the shops on the wharf where they sell Port to the tourists are open. So it will be a leisurely day. Our legs can use a little time off anyway. We’ve walked and walked and walked. As mentioned before, the cities and towns have grown on the hills and so I’ve been very glad for the fact that we live in the boonies with hills surrounding our place. I’ve gotten much needed exercise as I’ve rehabbed and it has been beneficial here. Yesterday we climbed 197 steps (I asked) to the top of a tower(Torre dos Clerigos) in order to see a panorama of the city. The glass of Port we had afterward only added to the wobbliness of the knees since the glass they poured was of the kind an unsure man pours for his date when he wants to loosen things up a bit.
When I serve or am served port at home, it’s usually in a small distinctive glass and it’s truly sipping stuff. Not here, it’s a full wine glass poured to the top all for $3. I remember having a bottle of 1966 vintage port which I gave to my daughter since it was her birth year. Don’t think she’s cracked it yet, but I’m sure some more will find it’s way back through customs with us. I’ve got to check on the “Legal” limits of duty free liquor. What with the cherry liqueur and Jerez de la Frontera for Spanish Sherry ahead of us, I’ve got to be organized. It’s not true that I only travel to check out the local alcohol. However, in the interests experiencing local traditions so I can write you about it, it’s important to do drink a lot. Simply said: “I’m here for you.”
We got hold of a map which shows all the Port merchants in the city. There are dozens of them from the Familiar like Sandeman and Taylor to little obscure ones. They are like the airlines who have discovered that you can charge people for things like meals and aisle seats, only the wineries have discovered they can charge for the tours and people will still come and visit and most importantly, buy. However, some still give free tours, and so we circled the free ones on the map and went to the Wharf where they are all located. Maps can be so deceiving, the 1st free one looked soooooooooooo close. It turned out to be uphill, of course, and quite a ways uphill. We huffed and puffed our way a full 30 minutes to the cellar only to find that it was closed on Sunday. I guess I should read the small print, not just the line which says “Free.” See how my cheapness gets in the way. So down the hill we walked. But……..Like the kids we took to Europe who would tell us their misery at getting lost and then explain all the cool stuff they saw working their way back to the hotel, we too discovered little hidden bits of Portugal. There was a public washing area where the women still washed their clothes and visited with their neighbors. The sound of Portuguese music filled the air and the smell of lunch cooking wafted through the air and we had clear views of the buildings climbing up the hills on the other side of the river.
We made our way down to the river and headed back to another free cellar, this one free and open on Sunday. Yes, it was back up the hill again. See how far I’ll go for a free drink. We entered the cellar and were immediately given a glass of white port. Now white port has a terrible reputation in the U.S. One of my favorite movies “Fat City” has some great lines about that. But this stuff is Good!!! A tour through the musty, cool cellars where they have 1-2 million Gallons of the stuff was like music to a deaf man. All those oak casks. They have so many they don’t even know how many there are. But this winery was begun in 1588. I wasn’t even born then. After the tour another glass, this time tawny port was presented. I told them I wanted to buy a bottle but wasn’t sure which, so some more was offered, and I bought a bottle of the tawny. On our way back I wanted to buy another bottle and we stopped at another vintner’s. I told them I wasn’t sure if I wanted a tawny or ruby, so they offered a free glass of each, and I chose a 10 year old bottle of vintage ruby.
We took the funicular back up the hill since we couldn’t face walking up again, and when we got out a young lady asked what I bought. I told her the ruby. The handle of the plastic bag had torn so I had it under my arm and suddenly the distinctive sound of glass hitting concrete filled the air. I looked at my feet and there was my ruby port. Nothing happened at first, but soon, as Alex in “Clockwork Orange” would say, the “Red Bubbly began to flow.” The woman felt terrible as if she were at fault. Several times I had to repeat “It’s not your fault.” “It’s not your fault.” She clasped her hands to her face and kept saying she was so sorry. Carol and I explained that there was another bottle in the bag, my camera, her jacket and a water bottle all of which contributed to the bottle being at the top of the bag. She was a university student from France studying Agronomy in Lisbon and was visiting Porto with her parents. We visited all the way back. She was from the Pyrenees – tour de France territory, which was cool. We went through all the “What if’s” as if it were some major tragedy, but it wasn’t. But the sight of all that beautiful port running out onto the pavement was certainly a downer. And, yes, I’m headed back up the hill , then down the hill and across the river to replace it.
It was nice to not have to drive today, but tomorrow we’re off again. Carol wants to go to Braga, and as she told the French girl, “Jim doesn’t care, he just wants to see it all.” Truer words were never spoken. I got a nice note from our friends on Prince Edward Island who said to do these trips with my best friend was a blessing. Truer words were………… Oh, wait, I already said that.
Live large and Prosper,
C and J
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