First Day

Longest day ever… Wednesday September 26, 2012-Thursday September 27, 2012

So, today actually started yesterday, but didn’t really start until today. Make sense? Haha, not to me either.  Basically, I started my trip on Wednesday September 26, 2012. It was early in the day that I finished packing and waited for my aunt to give me a lift to the Robert Q station. That ride, from London to Toronto is mostly a blur cause I finished one book on the way. When I arrived, I found that the 4:30 arrival meant I could check in early, and I selected my favourite place, the emergency exit seats. Unfortunately, I got the window seat, but totally wasn’t a problem. But back to the seat selection and checking in. So, they provided me a “coupon” which reduced the price for the buffet with open bar from $30 to $24. Not bad, I think. So, I wandered over to the airline lounge, and started in on the food and drinks. 5 glasses of red wine, 4 plates of food (smallish plates, mostly snacks) and I felt I was ready to fly! Or, at least, that I was out of time to keep preparing. This guy was totally concerned about having another claustrophobia attack during this night flight. Well, between 5 glasses of wine, and 2 gravol (the 100mg, not the measly 50mg) I was having no issues! Most of the flight actually didn’t occur in my head. I woke up from a small doze to order a glass of wine, since we got a free one with dinner. Sadly, wasn’t actually the dinner service. $6 later, I had a wine, which I drank. Then promptly fell asleep. Should I mention the dizziness and sense of distance while boarding the plane, due in part, I think, to the drugs and alcohol mix? Nope, no mention in this log! So, dozed off after I finished my wine, then woke up to see that the movie had changed from The … Marigold to what looked like one of the Night at the Museum movies.  Then dozed off again, after sorting out some neck pain, and voila! 1.5 hours till we land! Watching a new continent approach started as a very not exciting thing. Then I realized every mouth of every river I could see, and I think I saw 4 or 5, was clustered with tiny lights that meant towns and cities. Incredible. The plane then flew over a bit of what I assume is Porto, before landing on the north side of the “river”, whichever one it is, and we disembarked. I went through customs, mostly confounded, cause they didn’t do any of that invasive shit that the Americans do. I mean, I made a point to remember EXACTLY which hotel I am staying at, and no questions. Quick glance at the passport, follow-up glance at the visa, and through I go. No questions, NO WORDS, nothing! Sweet. Find a wireless connection for free, and “Europe, I am in you!” all over the interweb. A bit of patience and my bags (last to come out of the mysterious machine) and I depart the airport by taxi! Apparently no one else wanted to be the first to grab one, so I didn’t even have to wait for that part! Woot! 10 minute ride to the hotel, and vavoom! I am ready to check in!

Only, the hotel isn’t ready for me… so I waited almost 2 hours for a room to be prepared. My thoughts that the hotel was close to downtown proved wrong, so I sat and read some more, while waiting. At about 10:45am (wasn’t watching the clock , I swear), I check in and move up to my room. I get to grab all my things from the bell closet I had stashed them in, although I didn’t let the door close while I was pulling them out, since I couldn’t figure out the light switch (I hit it, the lights didn’t turn on, end of test). Then I moved up to the room, and realized I had no flipping clue how to make any of the plugs work… or the lights… or the TV. Well, I wanted a nap, so I decided to call down to the desk about the TV not working after I woke up. Then, I wouldn’t look like an idiot, right? I figured the solution to one must be the solution to the other. I was right, but wrong. So, when I woke up three hours later, I tried all the crazy crap I had dreamed up while dreaming, but none of it worked. Then I check the fuse box again, but still to no avail, everything was switched on. The only thing that worked was the AC. Hmm… then I was fiddling this extra spot on it when it occurred to me that it was the correct size for my card key. Crazy right? The room’s power being locked until you insert your card key? That’s what I thought, but hey, what else did I have to try? And after inserting the card… Bam! All the lights turn on in the room, bathroom, and generally everywhere… the heat lamp in the bathroom turns on… I mean, all power seemed to happen. So I tried the plugs I had brought, with the few devices I trusted them to work with, and I had power. POWER!  Then I charged my phone for 20 minutes and headed out to explore!

So, after asking at the desk, I got a map, a bus route to take, and a coupon for a 3€ port tour at Graham’s and I took off! The bus trip was easy, even understanding what the phrase “last stop” was in Portuguese.  But once I got downtown, I was mostly stumbling around drunk (from the night before) and lost. OK, mostly lost, the drunk didn’t survive the nap. So I wandered in the direction I assumed the bridge (Ponte something Luis I) was in, and started out. Now Ponto is beautiful. There were cool buildings and very European structures everywhere. And sometimes, a vista would come out of nowhere, and I hope I captured them to show you. So I struggled a bit, asked directions (I know, I shouldn’t as a guy), an found my way to the bridge. I took the top part, cause, well, when presented the option of directions, top seemed better than bottom, and I made my way across, taking photos along the way. Then, on the other side, I looked for a way down, since the directions to the port winery started down below. And I discovered, lo and behold, that construction occurs everywhere and messes up everyone’s travel plans. Including a lonely pedestrian, climbing down a 600 foot wall, or however long it was. So, after walking up streets, down streets, through alleys, past people watching something on a laptop… I found my way to the lower street. I followed it from there to the roundabout, constantly doubting the map’s veracity, but made my way to the Port Winery of Graham’s. Now, let me tell you, I will never wear winter boots again when doing a day out in a city that is as much up and down as forward and back. Right, Denise? Think I would have learned that lesson in San Fran… So yeah, get there, and what an incredible experience. They have barrels (read vats) of 73,000 litres of port. Just sitting there. They have over 7 million litres of port and wine waiting to be bottled. And that doesn’t include all the port that is bottled as a vintage as soon as it hits the two year mark. Just crazy. Then, I got to do the sampling (really why I was there) and, again, lo and behold, I like the expensive stuff. They call it a Tawny Port, after the colour it gets from sitting in the smaller barrels and being exposed to wood and oxygen for 10-40 years before being bottled. I assume the Vintage ports, aged in bottles after 2 years, are even better, but still. Just incredible flavours.

From there, I sexually harassed the hot bartender/sales person to find out where I should go for dinner, and he recommended a place called Santiago F. Not Café Santiago, the father’s restaurant, but Santiago F, the son’s. There I was told to order a Francesinho, which I am told means Little French Girl. So I made my way across the bridge (on the bottom this time) and then considered how to get to the top, since I cannot cross to the height I need to be, apparently. I could choose the Funicular (right, Wendy?!) or the stairs. Well, I picked the stairs, and proved my manliness by reaching the top gasping for breath, sweating lead bullets and trying to kill myself in all those natural ways that say one is out of shape. Then I proved my cartographic skill by easily finding the restaurant in a strange neighbourhood and asked what they had to drink, after I ordered a glass of water. Apparently, that is confusing in Portugal. Or in this restaurant. So I had a glass of red wine. Didn’t check the price, just ordered. Then I ordered my dinner, a Francesinho à Santiago. Meaning that it (whatever it is) was covered in a sunnyside up egg and cheese. So, I got a meat sandwich, with egg and cheese, and slathered in gravy and surrounded by fries. Now I realized I was a tourist, one when I took a picture of my meal, and two when I wondered how to ask for ketchup for my fries. I got over it, didn’t ask, and just enjoyed. Then I ordered another glass and thought to check for internet, which I haven’t mentioned much, but I haven’t had since the airport. And score! I have internet! From there I think it was 4 glasses of red wine, delicious and costing 0.85€ a pop, before I left to come back to the hotel. I wandered looking for my bus stop, but managed to find it, and here I am writing this log. For the record, wine at the hotel is 2.90€, so way pricier, but still cheaper than in North America. Now I am set to fall asleep and start my trek tomorrow when I actually go to France and Le Mans. Let it be known. Portugal is an amazing country, and I hope to visit Porto again before I leave this continent, or even several times after. As the locals say, ciao.

Jordan