Oh Porto!

Porto is straight out of a Shakespearean play. In strictly visual terms the Merchant of Venice comes to mind, because of the gondolas and barges and the colourful trafficking on and in and around the banks of the River Douro. Especially if the bard’s mobile character, Falstaff, were to drop in on the drama. The city is piled steep on both sides, rickety buildings on the Ribeira side - with lines of washing on the front balconies – sitting above and just behind one another so that everyone has a view, like a well designed theatre. Excuse me, I have to take that right back, because Porto and the Ribeira are just one side of the river, the north side. The opposite bank, hardly more than an arm’s reach across the waterway, is not Porto but rather Gaia, another city altogether and the home of the great port lodges. Linking the two are a couple of very dramatic rail and road bridges.  

Getting there

Michael (RyanAir) will get you there for as little as a fiver if you have your prepaid Mastercard and cabin luggage. I came in by coach from Santiago de Compostella in Spain with a couple of friends, after walking the walk of the demented through some lovely countryside in a pilgrimage of shared pain.  We went out the first night looking for something to eat. We weren’t fussy, just starving, but we were prepared to dine in elegance. Nothing stood out. Nothing much seemed open, or bright, so we ended up in a sloping alley off the main square where a cheerful Brazilian band was playing outdoors to three adjacent eateries, as well as an assortment of uninhibited passersby who just put down their handbags and briefcases and plunged into the samba. One or two of the men were dressed like accountants and a very large lady had some powerful moves. It was more intense than jolly, a little strange, like the reception we got on arrival, when the bus dumped us on a corner with no sign of a bus station, taxi rank or tourist booth lighting up the melancholic urban landscape. In the alley, we asked for burgers and they came with fried eggs and easy singles and lettuce and a scatter of other niblet items and the glass of red wine was sweet port. So we had another and then went down the steep hill to what turned out to be the penny stalls in the theatre of the Ribeira Douro.  

My oh my. What a place! I could not imagine any demi-monde deal that might not be going on down there. True, it was the eve of the Red Bull Air Race, or of the finals of the Air Race, so the dishevelled appearance of the place could have been because of that. But it was colourful in a Moll Flanders kind of way and you could sit there all day and half the night without seeing the same thing happen twice.

The following day, a Sunday, planes were swooping up and down the river and crowds converged on the banks and hung over the bridge railings, high pavements and roof perches to get a look. It reminded me of the air shows and spring shows and horse fairs that would sometimes come to town when we were kids and all the townspeople would turn up out of gratitude that someone had put something on for us. It didn’t matter what. Could have been the mayor’s funeral. Grown up and abroad I was even less interested in this event, but the crowds were impressive. They had hats and sunglasses and little folding chairs and things to hawk and they were buying and selling and sharing and eating for Portugal.  You could see the tide coming in and going out on the river. The Atlantic was just a couple of miles out west and the Portuguese used to think this was the end of the world, before brave men set out to test that old conviction. The riverside in Porto has the look of the last hurray, like Vasco de Gama was leaving again tomorrow.

The Port Houses

Someone said that someone said that Taylor’s was the place to go to, where the port-tasting was free. Unfortunately Taylor’s was closed on Sunday and I would have to come back (my foot-weary friends were gone on to Lisbon and home), but the Taylor’s people were nice enough to tell me Croft’s was open and the port-tasting was free there too and probably is everywhere else as well. After you have exhausted their generosity you can buy another shot for something less than a Euro and sit outside and look down at the river from your sunny perch. They had just launched a novelty in the form of port on ice, which they were very excited about, and that innocent claim reminded me of the stories about explorers who discovered the Amazon or the Gobi Desert. I got to Taylor’s the next day and by then I had tried the sweet and the tawny and the ice version and knew everything about the English families who took over the industry here and the shale and the terraces and the mixing and blending. There is a big frisson about drink-tasting in a holiday or recreational setting. The staff of the port lodges were gracious and pleasant and did not seem at all put upon by the crowds who trailed in hour after hour to test their port and their patience.

Sights

All my photos disappeared into the internal memory of the camera, which didn’t seem to have much on it but would accept no more (wrong size setting I found out later). That was an awful pity, because the place is massively photogenic. Gondolas, painted balconies, narrow alleys, splendid blue and white tile clad churches, the sumptuous tiled interior of the Sao Bento railway station. When I fixed the problem later I thought they would re-emerge, but they were gone from memory, just like the name of the hotel I stayed in had gone from mine, of the square it was in, of the fantastic internet café, of the bridges, the number of the bus I took out to the Atlantic. No matter. I can google them, and I have to come back here anyway, maybe with company for a boat trip up the Douro.  

The bus goes west along the northern river bank out to the Atlantic shore, but when I went, a heavy mist was rolling in, giving the place a silently spooky appearance. These wouldn’t be the finest beaches of Portugal by any means, but a short train ride on the opposite bank accesses fine sandy beaches in less than half an hour.

Internet

I don’t mind emailing or googling or skyping from internet cafes, but I don’t like doing my day’s work in the full public glare. The internet café almost directly across the public square from the downtown Residencial Chique  where I stayed,  was absolutely terrific. It was huge and every station had an executive desk, comfortable chair and a whole private corner of the room to settle in to. It was cheap, and they served coffee and didn’t mind you having it at the desk.

Accommodation

Two nights in the Residencial Chique, which is bookable via Hostelbookers, a 2nd floor pension overlooking the av. dos Aliados, the city’s dominant central square, cost €70 and that included breakfast. I think I had a double bed, which is always a plus if you are paying a bit more for single accommodation anyway, and the reception staff greeted me like the prodigal guest, even though the place appeared to be full. Breakfast was unremarkably fine. I can’t remember what I ate exactly but I don’t recall complaining. The receptionists/ management looked worried and asked me to tell people about the place and so there you go. I should probably send them a link.

Travel Tips

In no particular order of importance

Getting started

1. PREPAID MASTERCARD
If you are travelling RyanAir, you will want to have a PREPAID MASTERCARD so that you don’t pay credit card charges. RyanAir make some money on the charges to offset the fact that they don’t apply a fuel charge and often give you the flight for nothing, so it’s a bit churlish maybe to be going on about the credit card charges, but people do, and getting the card will save you a lot. In his own way, Michael would probably approve. Once you set it up, it works a dream. From now on, if a RyanAir flight costs one Euro and you are travelling light, then one Euro is what you will pay. So make sure to have a hot chocolate on board (€3) and maybe buy a scratch card or a plastic RyanAir keyring which mimics the sound of takeoff - with flashing red lights - when you press the nose button. As the electron Visa no longer works for this purpose the reference to http://bargainsireland.wordpress.com, where the instructions for getting an electron Visa were so well laid out, isn't relevant any longer, but I am leaving the link because there is nothing irrelevant about the site. I booked Girona-Rome-Girona in February 2009 for €2, all in. Yes, all in.

2. Getting to the airport
Leave the car at home. What on earth is the point of driving a mile or 50 miles to the airport and leaving a car there at €9 a day while you gallivant around another country, or continent. Sure, it makes sense if you have three kids and 6 check-in cases with you. But for a solo traveller or two it starts making real sense to travel with the local bus company, from wherever you are. In Ireland if you travel with Bus Eireann and book the whole return trip including transfers online, you will get double discounts. For example, from Goleen in West Cork, to Cork City, to Limerick, to Shannon (3 connections) return, is around €30. By road it is 4 hours drive each way, ie €20 odd for petrol and around €60 for one week’s parking. The bus is comfortable, warm and can be very entertaining.

3. Check in online
This way not only do you not pay airport check-in charges, but you can walk straight in with your boarding card in your hand 40 minutes before the flight. Make sure you have a good clean printout.

4. Travel insurance
About six years ago, a well travelled friend of mine told me she had never paid travel insurance in her life. I haven’t since. That’s all I’m saying.

5. Online Ticket/ Hotel reservations
A lot of hotels farm out rooms to online agencies and keep some for walk-ins or direct bookings. Not all agencies sell out their quota at the same time, and not all of them have the same Google priority search status. So if you get a ‘no availability’ response, keep Googling, and you may find another agency has the room you want in the hotel you want, and maybe even at a better price. I have just got a ‘no availability’ for a hotel in Granada from 7 online agencies, a direct booking price of €48 a night, and then, on just one last Google run, got the room for €35. I have also bought more expensive airline and concert tickets online for want of a trip to town, because the online quota was used up, but tickets were still available in the office. Just be aware of this.

6. Car hire
If you are going to be in South West France, with or without a cross-border incursion into Spain, it may pay to hire the car in Spain (why not fly to Girona, while you are at it?) and also fill your tank on the Spanish side of the border. There is an add-on for crossing into France if you hire the car in Spain, but it may well be worth it. There can be a sizeable price difference for both the hire and the petrol. This may also apply to other border region travels.

7. Collision damage
One thing that most Spanish car hire companies include in the price is collision damage. It can be an optional add-on in France, but if so, get it. Don’t do what we did. Saved on the collision charge and wrote off an Algerian’s car on the outskirts of Marseilles at the height of the French riots, then held him up for an hour refusing to accept liability on the spot (as we were brought up to do at home) while the assembled crowd tried to explain to us that that is how it is done in France. I never saw so many police turn up for traffic accident. I had always wanted to see Marseilles, but not out the back window of a €75 taxi across town to pick up a replacement car. And then the excess added €500 to the price of that little getaway break. Don’t bother with the blown tire insurance. The roads are fine.

8. Packing
Travel light. You don’t need all that stuff.

7. Pardon?
Bring a tiny dictionary, just for courtesy’s sake.

8. Dining out and other dress emergencies
A scarf or a string of beads is really all you need for a night out if your basic daywear is anything more upmarket than a tracksuit and anorak. This one is for women. I don’t really know what to say to men. A cravat maybe? A nice watch? A pince nez?

9. Tuna sandwich

This one is really for ramblers and hillwalkers, because unless you are on a pilgrimage route you are not going to pass a cafe, let alone a restaurant. There are sandwiches and sandwiches and for me the king of sandwiches is the tuna in ciabatta bread.  The ingredients are: ciabatta bread, a small tin of tuna in olive oil (which you drain off), third of a red bell pepper diced, small onion or shallot, jalapenos or pickled green chilli - as much as you can stand - dessert spoon of mayonnaise, pepper. You can add a chopped cherry tomato or two (or that amount anyway) if you like. Mix and mash. By lunchtime in the hills you have a nicely soaked sandwich, with the outside still crisp.  I have eaten these on the beach, in the hills, at the airport, in the car. I have had it at home, with a flask of coffee, after a failed or curtailed outing and the coffee from the flask takes me back to the only thing I liked about school, which was lunch.

10. Sudoku

If you are on a short break, or an action-packed one, or one where you are going to be reading all the local literature, you could leave the book at home. You can get a little pocket-sized sudoku set that has hundreds of games on it, from beginners up to the level that has only three or four digits in the grid. It is a bit bigger than a mobile phone and weighs about the same and the best thing about it is you can erase and delete, or give up on a game and call up another, and you can fiddle with it in a ticket queue or anywhere at all. I have it in my rucksack when out walking in case the landscape isn't up to par during rest breaks. Anyone can play sudoku - there is a level for everyone. That is what I discovered anyway.