Our first night in Oporto was largely spent deliberating about whether to go out over a few games of cards. We decided against it as we were fatigued from the overnight-non-sleeping-train from Madrid and wanted to be fresh for the next day where the prospect of surfing loomed.
After a big breakfast, we caught Bus 500 from Sao Bento, which wound its way along the road bordering the river. Quite a scenic route. Earlier we were informed that Oporto had only 2 surf shops. Upon hearing this, I became quite anxious as to whether the possibility of buying boards would be possible at all. I walked into the shop to find a very limited selection of boards. To be honest I wasn’t too surprised. Time to look at prices.
“Oh look, this one is 150 euro”
“Yeah, but look at it”
I actually found a great second hand board for about 240 Euros but adding fins and a legrope to the equation turned me off the idea. The other problem was that it was so foggy we couldn’t even see the water when we were standing on the beach. According to the guy in the surf shop, “It happens every blue moon.” Guess I scored Oporto on a blue moon. A combination of these factors meant that the eagerness to surf had to be diminished for the time being. Hugo and I drowned our sorrows in a few cafes for 60 cents a piece, and then headed back to the centre of Oporto to do some discovering.
I have a certain obsession with European laneways, for some reason. No matter how bland or seemingly uninteresting they appear, I catch myself just staring in awe at them. I don’t really know why. It so happens that Hugo shares this obsession. Hence, as we jumped off the bus we spotted a “heaps cool looking laneway” that needed further investigation. We quickly discovered that this laneway was most probably the main druggie hangout in Oporto.
“You want coke? I got coke. I got everything”
“Thanks, but no thanks”
Hugo then decided it was a good idea to take a photo. Probably not a good idea. Shouts of “No! No!” ensued. Some guy practically chased us away. Happy to be alive, we then decided it was time to do some more toned-down sightseeing and spent the rest of the afternoon absorbing all Oporto had to offer.
That night we were encouraged to try a local favourite, Chicken piri-piri (spelling?). For 4.50 euro each, we got a whole chicken a loaf of bread each to ourselves to munch on. It was also the first time we had eaten out in our whole Euro-trip so far. With some chill and a Super Bock (Portuguese beer), the meal went down very well. We aimed for an early night but in typical European fashion, we didn’t end up crashing till about 1am.
The next morning after some deliberation, we decided to cut our stay in Oporto short by one day, mainly due to our eagerness to surf. That meant a trip to the train station to book our next journey. This also meant that for the second time we experienced the non-preferential treatment for international journeys. We had a few coffees to prepare for the waiting. Of ten counters, one is dedicated to international and each person seems to take at least 15 minutes. I got so bored after an hour of sitting around I began to count how many other people were fluctuating through while I waited for the magic “D – 12”. I think I lost count after about a hundred. After finally getting to the counter, Hugo and I were faced with the same dilemma as last time. Seat or Bed? 7 or 30 Euros?
Seven it is. I’m now sitting on the train, it’s one in the morning and what could well be the brightest fluorescent lights in the world won’t turn off. I feel like I’m on an operating table or something. The lights even seem to penetrate the eye mask thingy Maia gave me. (Yes Maia, I took it travelling and it has actually been pretty handy, so thanks.)
After the station debacle, we headed home for a lunch of avocado on bread with pepper (Hugo added eggs, as he had a huge surplus of them) and prepared ourselves for the night ahead. I.e. Espana vs Portugal in the World Cup. We decided we’d head to the main square in Oporto to watch the game. As I type this, I remember a question I asked one of the guys who worked at our hostel in Lisboa.
“So, do you play football?”
“Try and find a guy in Portugal who doesn’t play football”
“Oh, ok, yeah...of course”
I could sense this strange buzz all of that day, and upon arriving at the square a colossal crowd came into view. Of the 3 lane streets on either side of the square, two were taken up by people. It was an army of maroon and green. I was in a pickle. I wanted Spain to win for two reasons. One, because I like Spain better and, two, because we would be in Spain for the next game if they made it through. I kept fairly quiet...I also neglected to mention in my Madrid blog that while I was there I saw Spain play Chile with Huey, Con and Maddie. Every city in the street simultaneously became deserted about 10 minutes before kick-off. Madrid was fun, but Oporto was on another level. The nervous energy before the game, the intensity during it, the slight relaxation at half time and then back into intensity. It was amazing to watch. Portugal is clearly a country that lives and breathes football. To say it is a religion is in my opinion an understatement. There is more commitment in football support it seems.
As most probably know, Spain won. But the first half was definitely Portugal’s. This made it an exciting experience. It was actually quite comical, as we were across the road from the screen. Hence, when a bus drove past the whole crowd dropped to a squat for the few seconds to peer through the windows – just in case.
At the sound of the final whistle, the colossal crowd dispersed so quickly I was dumbfounded. I have never seen such a large group of people move so quickly. The obvious disappointment meant that no one was sticking around to talk about it.
Our final day in Oporto was basically spent wandering around. We crossed the famous bridge in Oporto – it looks a bit like the Sydney Harbour Bridge - to check out the Port tasting (For those who don’t know, Oporto is where Port originated from). The rumours that it was free were quickly dismissed. At 3 Euros a glass we decided against it fairly quickly. The view from the other side of the river was worth it alone. Hugo and I sat there for what must have been half an hour just taking in the view and talking about nothing in particular. I think the most interesting part of the whole conversation was a debate about how high the bridge was. Enough said.
On our way back, we contemplated visiting our favourite laneway again, but decided against it. Avocado and baguette were again on the menu for lunch and after killing a few hours it was time to get on the train I am now on. We are heading to San Sebastian which is on the coast in Basque country in Northern Spain. Hopefully the “cheaper boards” rumour holds true and we can finally do some surfing. I’m pretty sure we will. The brightest lights in the world have now finally been dimmed, its 1.30 am and I’m going to attempt sleep. At times like these, you wonder about the 23 euro difference. That said I will more than likely weigh up the options and choose the seat at least once more...Adios.
No comments:
Post a Comment