New Year’s Day

We are prepared for a public holiday, with not much open and a reduced bus timetable. This does not stop us from packing a little picnic lunch and heading to the beach. There are many beaches along the coast of Portugal, obviously, but we choose the one on the bus route. The 902 bus, to be exact.

Hamish is looking a little bored until the bus reaches the destination of Praia de Lavadores, which translates inelegantly in English, to “washers beach”. We are greeted with a long, twinkling expanse of beach front, esplanade and walking paths.

Our Aussie kid is in heaven; we’re at the beach, it’s New Year’s Day and he’s wearing his shorts (underneath his trakkies) as he plans to, and I quote, “splash about”. He cares not for the fact the temperature is just hitting 12 degrees.

We walk for some distance until we find a suitable spot for Hamish to splash about. His soft feet are not ready for the coarse sand and pebbles – he looks like he’s walking on hot coals as he wobbles his way to the shoreline. I’m sure you can imagine the scene: Hamish at his flappiest, Rod close (but not close enough that he’s going to get his boots wet) and me, sitting on a rock taking photographs. We don’t care that no-one else is on the beach. I find a slightly less volatile patch of surf and usher Hamish over to it. After a while, we have our picnic. Hamish tells us his legs are cold. I suggest he lay down to embrace the full effect of the sun, but the weakness of the winter sun does little to warm his skinny legs.

Back up on the board walk, Hamish is re-dressed in his full winter gear, and we head towards the bus stop. We have made great use of our bus passes, although it has taken us quite a bit of study to work out which route goes where and the names, correction, Portuguese names, of our bus stops.

January 2 – Jessica’s 23^rd Birthday

Today my little Sugar Pop turned 23. We talked to her on the phone for a little while, but the connection was laggy, which made conversing difficult. To be fair, we did celebrate her birthday in late November, but it’s not the same.

Our plan today saw us split up until after midday. Rod booked a port tour and tasting, whilst Hamish and I caught the (901 or 906) bus into the city square. Hamish wanted to buy Jessica a present and I really had no agenda. The present buying was completed early, so as to escape the cold, we headed for a local café, where we spent a very pleasurable 45 minutes having morning tea, reading the messages written on the walls and playing a dice game. We met Rod at 1230 at the Dom Pedro IV statue and continued on foot, to explore the city centre.

Porto reminds of us Italy in that, some of it is modern, some of it is gritty and some of it has been restored to its former glory. We love this urban combination and staying in Gaia, amongst the locals, gives us an insight into daily life. We shun the chain-cafes unless we’re desperate for the loo!

 

I’d previously asked Hamish if he wanted to go to the Livraria Lello (again, inelegant translation to ‘Lello Bookstore’), which has become famous (apparently, JK Rowling was inspired by its’ interiors when writing the Harry Potter series). He said he didn’t want to go. Turning into another street today I noticed a long, long line of people, literally snaking down the street. I thought maybe it was a queue for a theatre, or famous café – but no. It was the line for the Lello Bookstore. Good call Hamish!

Graham’s (port place) – written by Rod

On the lounge wall in our apartment is a picture/poster/map describing the “Demarcated Port Region” of the Douro valley. It has intrigued me since our arrival and I figure we cannot stay in Porto and not pay some form of homage to the beverage named after this place. Literally around the corner from our apartment is Graham’s, a famed producer of port founded by a couple of Scots about 200 years ago. I book a ticket online and stroll around the corner for the tour. The establishment is amazing. Very schmick reception/sampling/shop areas, as well as a working cellar with a vast range of vats and bottles.

Our young guide is amazing. Born in Porto and university-educated in Germany, her English is better than mine and her knowledge of the port industry is exhaustive. She gives a comprehensive overview of port – its history, production and consumption. I learn that for a beverage to be called “port” the grapes must be grown in the Douro valley. (A subsequent quick Google of what I have always known as Penfold’s Club Port reveals it is now known as Penfold’s Club Tawny.)

We finish in the lounge to quaff our samples.

In the spirit of my father’s port consumption habits, I have chosen the cheapest sample. It is lovely, especially when accompanied by some truffles. Of course, one does not exit without traversing the shop. Here I see a bottle selling for 8500 Euros, as I sense my father turning in his grave. I buy a sample pack of 5 minis for 15 Euros and head to the bus stop.