The End of the Trip I: Porto

Warning: This is long, so get comfy!

I am sure many of you are wondering “So, how was the rest of the trip?” I guess I left you hanging after all that first class train talk. Well, as many of you know or may have guessed, my moods caught up with me and I just wasn’t able to put words to paper by the time the trip was winding down.

First of all Porto. But before that even, omens. Okay, my belief in omens in semi-serious, but the day we arrived in Porto we had three bad omens, which I think helped to turn my stomach on this city on the river. Firstly, just outside of Porto, as we were coming up to a train station and therefore slowing down, we passed by a DEAD person on the side of the tracks. I am talking face-planted in gravel, stiff looking DEAD person. Nobody seemed at all concerned, although since I don’t speak or understand Portuguese, I was not able to eavesdrop on other passengers as to whether anyone else had witnessed this. I thought we should tell the conductor, but Dave insisted that a local person who could speak the language would report it. As he pointed out, he didn’t think we could adequately describe “DEAD person on the side of the tracks” with our LIMITED Portuguese and the conductor’s LIMITED English. I finally agreed, but found it quite disturbing and today I can still picture that body and exactly what it was clothed in, lying there, face down, in the gravel. UGH.

Okay, so we arrive in Porto, get a porter (so smart) to manage our bags, get our tickets to Lisbon, get a cab, and head to the hotel. As we hit the street from the train station, Dave taps my shoulder and nods out his window. We are driving by a hearse with a casket in it. Ya, that’s another DEAD body. Okay, creepy. But at least someone cared enough about this poor soul to plan a service or burial or whatever!

We arrive at the hotel… an old mansion converted to a hotel. Cool. Looks really cool. High ceilings, all ornamental and painted, big French windows. A quaint sitting area where they will make you tea and coffee. Lovely. But no time to hang out here, we’re off to see the city. My initial impression is that it is amazingly cool. I’ve never seen so many old buildings and large squares and the riverfront is beautiful. It’s a real European city, like in the movies! I’m terribly excited about it all, love the day and we enjoy an amazing meal on the river. Walking back to the hotel though, I start getting a toned down “Main and Hastings” sense. Around this time, just as we walk under a street lamp, it goes out. This is the 3rd omen, in case you’re wondering. I’m thinking this is a death sign and three in one day cannot be good. Get me back to the room!!!!

Back in the room, on further inspection, I decide it’s somewhat creepy (the pipes all around the tub, the VYNAL bedspread, the people sleeping in the park across the street – these were just a few of the tip offs). Okay, so it’s cool, but I’m not totally sure. I notice the lock is literally the kind of lock used on a bathroom door and if you lean against the outside of the doors, they actually separate slightly. Our room is outside of actual interior of the building and we have to be buzzed in. We also have to turn in our key when we leave the room, which is odd to me, but perhaps normal in this situation. One thing I do know, I do not feel safe in the room and there is no way I will be staying in it for any amount of time without Dave! This turns out to be a bit of pain in the ass for Dave, as my mood crashes and all I want to do is sleep and all he wants to do is explore. But I’ll save those details to save my own face.  (Although I think the scene outside the hotel one of the days that consisted of people yelling, a woman running into the sitting room to call the police and general carrying on for an hour somewhat backs up my sense of things!)

Okay, so about Porto itself. Well, in the light of day and my depressed mood, I determined it definitely reeked of Main and Hastings minus the junkies and with ¼ of the homeless count, and did not feel safe. It looked grimy and dirty, with lots of abandoned buildings, and just not as impressive as my initial intake. We did see some amazing old churches, including a room filled with old tombs and the bones of monks 100s of years old (some 300 I think). A little more creepiness, but not something you’ll everyday. I had a lovely panic attack as we climbed the tiniest winding 225 stair-staircase to the top of a church and quickly returned to the bottom to wait for Dave, whose patience for me is completely astounding and for which I am so, so thankful. What was wonderful was the riverfront, taking a cruise on the river, eating on the river, seeing the port caves and seeing a couple of cool museums and beautiful parks. Not all was bad in Porto. I’m sure my mood influenced my opinion. But I’m still not in a hurry to return. For a more unbiased opinion, talk to Dave!