We leave Spain. We enter Port (wine).

The following morning everyone was feeling a lot better. Perhaps the sun cured us, if only for a brief time. I enjoyed breakfast ravioli as the Italian looked over in disgust. She was eating Oreo’s.

We hopped in the car ready to get back to Santiago. We were all going to Porto, Portugal as it would turn out, so we weren’t going to be able to leave each other’s side just yet. The drive back was a lot more fun than the drive out. We played music and everyone sang when they knew the words or made the words up. It was a huge highlight of the trip for me, but I love a roadtrip.

Once back in Santiago de Compestelo, we caught the bus to Porto and began yet another adventure in another land. A land full of bridges, cod, a laptop, plenty of port wine, and good old fashion European bartering.

Once in Porto, our group separated for the day. Everyone was staying in a different place, but we planned to reconvene for a final dinner that night. Candice had only a night in town so this was truly it for our fearsome foursome.

After dropping our gear, we headed straight into town. Not for the sights or sounds of Porto, or the wine, or the bridges, but for the most important thing in the world, a new laptop.

(To make a long story short, it was a miserable experience that took two days to resolve. When I finally got my Portuguese laptop, one year of virus protection, and a printer, I was happy to never have to step foot in a FNAC again.)

From here we walked around the city, partially getting lost, and partially enjoying the opportunity to walk around a city we would not have to leave the following morning by 8 am. The Portuguese Independence Day celebrations were happening while we were in town, so we got to hear a few Portuguese acts and an Irish band performing in an outdoor concert. We also saw a wedding. It was like life was happening again. We had been in our comfortable Camino bubble and forgot life was still going on around us. We laugh because we realized for the first time that it was spring and it actually felt like spring. The seasons changed and we didn’t even notice.

We then headed to church and dinner with the team. Elizabeth and I were having a tiff due to day one of the FNAC debacle, so we enjoyed the river separately as we waited on the arrival of our other duo. 

Dinner was predominantly cod. It’s a popular fish here in Europe. Every tour will explain the importance, but I still don’t know why they love it so much. Candice, who loves cod since it is also popular in her homeland, was too sick to eat most of her meal. The magic from the Fisterre sun had worn off, so our last night as a family ended earlier than any of us wanted.

She left the following day. (Ed. Note – We haven’t seen her since. She has been traveling through Italy only a few days ahead of us. It’s a shame we couldn’t have crossed over at some point, but c’est la vie. She did tell us that while back in Germany she went to a beer festival and ran into Lisa. It seems the Camino is still giving.)

The next day began with a walking tour of Porto. Rachele had decided to join us for the tour, so we weren’t all alone. Unknown to us at the time, we were in Porto in the midst of their Independence Day. It was great to learn about the town during the Independence festivities. Everyone walked around with carnations to honor a free Portugal.

Thanks to a suggestion from our guide, we all went to grab lunch after the tour at a diner famous for a particular Portuguese dish. Now walking to lunch was an ordeal, because walking anywhere in Porto is an ordeal. Porto is on a river so the city is beautiful and has incredible views from almost anywhere.

If you are on the side with the city, you can see all the port cellars housing the port wine with each company’s name in big bright letters and lighting. From the port cellar side, you get amazing views of the city. Both sides enjoy the lovely bridge views. But both sides have such beauty because it extends vertically, up some very steep hills. The only flat sections of Porto are the walkways near the river and the bridges. Even the city streets are hills. Porto feels like it’s built inside many bowls, making each walk arduous.

So when we finally arrive at Cafe Santiago, we are ready to try the Francesinha. The dish was invented in Porto in the 1960’s somewhere, so it’s not some ancient dish. It’s supposedly based on a croque monsieur.

I would say, however, this dish is based more on insanity and the desire for local Portuenses to have a drunk food at all hours of the day. They call it a sandwich. It’s not. I wouldn’t call it a dish either. I’d call it a mess.

Our version: between two slices of bread sits bologna, a split sausage link, ham, and a piece of steak. Add a fried egg on top of the sandwich, cheese on top of that, and cover it with a sauce that is different at every restaurant because no one can agree on what is in the sauce.

It’s a disaster. I would not go so far as to say it is delicious. Elements are good, the bologna is terrible (as all bologna is), the fries in a ring around the mound of food are nice to dip in the gravy/sauce.

Elizabeth and I split one. They tried to give me the entire one that Rachele had ordered and were confused and taken aback when they realized I had ordered only a half. I had things to do the rest of the day and taking a long nap was not one of them. Half was more than enough and we all left stuffed and unsure of what we had heaped in our stomachs.

The last time we were to see Rachele was at dinner that night. After getting our new laptop set up and getting the blog back up and running, we headed back out to Porto to spend our last few hours together. We stopped for a quick port tasting before dinner, learning that we prefer a dry white port. So now you know what port to get us.

Dinner was at an ultra traditional Porto restaurant. They served a tripe soup Rachele wanted to try before she left and not every place does it. After a short wait, we got a table and enjoyed each others company and the meal. Many troubadours stopped by while we were eating, some better than others, and a common occurrence at any place with outdoor seating. At one moment one of the musicians played a familiar tune. It was the same song the Northern Sardinian sang so many weeks ago – Cielito Lindo. It gave us a moment to reflect on where we were and where we had been only a few weeks before.  

We stayed awhile, soaking up our time together. Our group was headed back down to two, distressing to both Elizabeth and me. We waved goodbye to Rachele, unsure of when we would see her again if ever. We felt the same way when Candice left. We hoped we would see them again, but life is weird and the world is big.

You are probably wondering what else is left to see in Porto. How many days are needed in a city with almost nothing to see? Well, you are right, but we had time to kill and we wanted Porto to be relaxing before we headed off to Morocco. Plus, I had to shed a printer.

When I bought this Portuguese laptop, a printer and virus protection came in the bundle. Ever the miser, I bought a floor model laptop. The store apparently throws in some junk to move the last piece of stock. I tried to sell the printer back to the store or get a credit, but as an awful, massive, conglomerate, they had no power to do anything. Their suggestion was a pawn shop. Problem was the only pawn shop was closed, so I hauled the printer home with us.

I decided I would see if our Airbnb host would like the printer for a good deal, hell any deal. I couldn’t haul the printer (not just a printer, but a scanner too), around Europe and Morocco so I was up for just any trade. I told our host if he didn’t want to pay for it, he could have it outright anyway. He declined the free offer, saying it wouldn’t be right. I told him the printer wasn’t leaving the hallway.

I awoke the next morning with a trade at hand. Two notes were present and a box filled with three bottles of wine. Two were a Portuguese sparkling wine and the other was a cheap white wine. The notes let me know this was the best our host could do. I immediately accepted the trade.

Upon leaving the house, after celebrating my bartering acumen, we got an Uber to the beach. Not that pretty, but we strolled along the boardwalk, enjoying the sunshine. We quickly became hungry and thirsty. We were in need of port.

Porto has a love affair with cod, as do many other places for some odd reason. Many, many of their dishes contain the stuff. A special one is where we grabbed a snack before heading up a church tower. The cod is mixed with potato, herbs, and cheese to make an egg shaped croquette. The shop we went to likes to pair it with port wine. The cod was fishy, but the port was delicious.

From here we toured a church, old, small, the only difference being the exterior, as almost all of the churches in Porto are decorated with white and blue tile. It was beautiful to see.

To close the day, we went to one of the most beautiful bookstores in the world. The inside was covered in scaffolding and you have to pay to enter. Not really the highlight it could have been but still really interesting. We then bought a bunch of sweets, had some eclairs, went to a run-down mercado, spent too much at a “local and artisanal” shop, and bought additional foodstuff for dinner.

 

After spending the past two nights out for dinner, we decided to spend the night in and watched the sun set and enjoyed dinner from the outdoor space of our apartment.

We always knew we wanted post Camino massages. Since we didn’t know when we would finish the journey, I waited to book the massages. On our last full day in Porto, we were able to spoil ourselves.

Our massage was at 2 pm and was set to last one hour. The hotel said we were welcome to come over before our appointment to use the other amenities of the hotel, a nice offer from a 5 star hotel. After a quick breakfast at an adorable, old cafe in the heart of Porto (Majestic Cafe), we headed to the hotel and arrived sometime around 10 AM. I’m not sure they were expecting us so early before our appointment, but we didn’t care. We were going to milk this for all its worth.

We left the hotel that afternoon around 4:30 pm. We enjoyed the pool for a while, an unrivaled view of the city of Porto, had lunch, eventually got a massage, drank a lot of tea, wallowed in the “relaxation room” for an hour or so, and then left to head to another port tasting.

We had dinner in so we could pack up all our stuff and be prepared for Morocco the following day.

Looking back, we packed successful but we were not prepared for Morocco.