Porto, Portugal

Fri 19th April - Wed 23rd April 2008

Our very first t-shirt and shorts day today! I have been praying for this weather since the very moment I peaked out the window and saw snow on April 6th. It's perfect - we're surrounded by other campervans all tucking into either their dinner or dessert cookies, sitting outside next to their aluminum dinner tables, burning citronella candles. I'm even still in a t-shirt and shorts and it's 8:36pm. You'd think it was mid-summer and we're oh so very appreciative of finally experiencing some proper "summer weather".

I'm giving up on trying to blog every single day of this trip. An ideal for later in my life if I want to read back on what I was doing but I doubt any of you are even the slightest bit interested in some of our more boring days... such as today. It was strictly a house cleaning / regain sanity day which I'm finding surprisingly soothing instead of feeling like a chore.

The best news since my last blog was Porto, Portugal - a really wonderful city that we almost skipped due to the bad weather in northern Portugal. My good friend Davina did almost the exact same road trip 2 years ago and said one of her favourite cities was Porto. As you may have read in my earlier entries, we were plagued by bad weather in northern Portugal and discovered the many, many leaks in the van. Everything was soaked by the time we pulled into Porto, including our spirits. That bulky hair dryer that Bevan scoffed at when he saw me packing it was a god send, as we spent nearly 3 hours on Fri, 19th April trying to blow-dry all of the seat cushions, towels, walls and plywood in the van to avoid getting mold. Instead of a constant down-pour, we were blessed with slight showers that only turned up when we were inside port tasting or sitting at an internet cafe. We even had a furry friend who stopped in for regular visits at the campsite, but unfortunately still no English speaking friends.

For those of you in London, I definitely recommend a weekend visit to Porto. I looooove Lisbon, and Porto is right up there as a very beautiful town with plenty to do on a quick city break. The city is situated along the River Duoro with the historical centre along one side, and an enormous bridge connecting it to the port cellars on the other bank. We spent day 1 in Porto just walking around the very steep narrow streets, climbing the tower to get an anxiety-attack view of the city and a slow meander down the river banks.

Any tourist guide will tell you the typical places to visit, but I think I'll always remember the tower. I've always had an issue with vertigo, but I've only ever had 2 anxiety attacks over it. If you're anxious about heights, you might want to skip this one as I completely embarassed myself at the very top by freaking out yelling "I have to get down! I have to get down!" clutching the sides of the staircase and finally landing in a small huddled heap of panicked breathing until I was able to regain my composure. And yes, unfortunately there were other tourists up there who witnessed it. OH WELL. I can handle most things, including the terrifying Monument in London but this pushed me over the edge.

Our 2nd day in Porto, we focused on the port cellars - which is why I think Davina loved this city so much. I looooove port and they are very generous with their free samples which ultimately ends in drunken chatter with any other English speakers and the purchasing of several bottles according to how closely they correspond with your birth year -- not an overly cheap day out afterall if over-sampling inspires you to purchase. But since it's only the cellars that are located here, there's none of that hassle of travelling long distances from vineyard to vineyard. There are literally 5 within the same block so it's just a quick trot to the next location and you're tucking in all over again.

Despite the fun of our indulgences, we did pay a very heavy price. Here is a photo of what happens when you sweeten your blood with port, then sleep outside in a van without any mosquito repellant.




Let me show you that again...
BEFORE













AFTER

Let's just say that the teenagers at our latest camp here in Sevilla, Spain keep mistaking me for either being in their age group (yay...I think) or feeling great pity for me that the acne never cleared up before adulthood.

Campo du Geres, Portugal

Thurs 17th April & Fri 18th April

Right now the whole morning process is probably my least favourite part of the day. We’re pretty far south, just north of Porto in Portugal, so we both figured we’d be in T-shirts and shorts by now. But it’s still pretty damn cold. Crawling out from under the blankets takes every ounce of will power you can muster, then it’s off to the shower blocks which are all mostly open air facilities with no heating and barely any water pressure. You strip off to nothing, then stand there shivering until the warm water finally pours out of the shower head, only to have it shut off every 15 seconds until you press the button again. I gave up shaving my legs on day one, as the hair grows back from the freezing cold by the time my razor has reached the top of my calf. I can’t stop shivering from the whole process until I’ve finished my cup of instant coffee back at the van. Watch England have a record breaking summer of heat while Europe suffers from a cold freeze and downpours.

So back to today. It was another comedy of mishaps, which we’ll probably laugh about fondly in a few months but it’s certainly not easy when you’re living through it. As I was walking to the shower block about 100 metres from our van, a number of workmen pulled into the campsite. We were the only people in the campsite, so I decided to shut the entrance to the women’s showers for a bit more privacy. OOPS – I will not be doing that again on this trip. After my shower, I decided to set my shoes outside to dry off and discovered that the door was locked. I started pounding on the door yelling, but there were no windows facing the outside so I had no idea if anyone was in the vicinity. Twenty five minutes of yelling “No saida! Ayudame!!” at the top of my lungs, Bevan finally heard me from the van and opened the door. It was a mix of broken Portugese and Spanish, which may explain why no one else came to my rescue but it was certainly not a nice start to the morning.

Already a dramatic morning and we still hadn’t resolved the tire situation. Yes, the tire was definitely flat but fortunately the campsite reception spoke English and was able to draw us a rough map to the nearest tire shop about 8km away. We made it to the shop, but the mechanic spoke no English and unfortunately our guide book had no phrase section for auto repair questions. So I called our good friend Tania, knowing her office is probably the most diverse workplace in London and one of her colleagues was bound to know Portuguese. It was soooo good to hear a familiar voice again that it immediately lifted our spirits, especially since she could help us laugh about the whole situation.

Our van is an old Royal Mail delivery van with plenty of quirks, one of which includes 4 tires at the rear of the van – two on either side. The right rear exterior tire had gone flat, but when the mechanic removed it for repairs, he found the second tire in a state that words can not describe. (See adjacent photo). Damn that Aussie b*s!&%d who sold us the van!

So we were now down two tires and shocked that we had been driving such precarious roads on a tire that was literally worn down to the steel wiring! Expecting a very hefty bill and our budget for the week to be completely blown, we sadly asked in broken Portuguese how much it would cost. “Sheenchwo” is all I heard, and figured it was around 50 euros. Not bad at all for two tires! As I reached for the 50 euro bill in my wallet, thankfully Bevan asked him to repeat it again, and the mechanic pulled out a 5 euro bill, pointing to it. We were absolutely floored! FIVE EUROS to fix two tires?? I’m starting to think Portugal is pretty wonderful after all, despite the pouring rain.

Now onto Porto for some port tasting!