Porto, Portugal
It's
about 60 degrees and drizzly at the train stain here in Porto.
Because I don't know how to tell time or set a watch, I missed this
mornings train, and now must wait three hours for the next one to the
border. Once there, I'm not sure what I'll find. The guide books
aren't too encouraging about hotels in the area, so we'll
see.
Yesterday, I arrived in Porto in the afternoon. The train
ride from Lisbon was great and hassle free, except, again because of
my time-piece difficulties (I may explain later, but I'm too
embarrassed to tell the tale yet) I was an hour late for my reserved
train, and had to purchase a ticket on the next one, barely making it
on board.
Once in Porto, I drug my luggage through the hilly
cobblestone streets looking for the hotel recommended by Rick Steves.
He has good recommendations, but apparently I'm not the only one in
the world traveling with his book, as every hotel on his list was
full. Finally about four house of trudging around, one of the hotels
made a phone call to the Best Western and secured their last room for
me. They claimed it was a four-star hotel. It was every bit as small
and had none of the charm of the two-star hotel I stayed in the night
before in Lisbon, but at least it was twice as expensive. Oh well,
live, travel and learn.
In Porto, I had a grilled sole fish.
This is my second fish dinner in Portugal, and both times I get the
whole fish. Last night it was the whole sole. I ordered a tiny bottle
of Port wine with dinner. It was pretty good, and not as sweet as I
remembered port wine.
I had planned on going to Santo
Campostelo tonight.
It's a Spanish city on the catholic pilgrim
trail. After my train mishaps, and a discover that my Euroail pass
won't take me along the north coast of Spain, I may veer south east
to Ourense or Leon. I think the first stop is Valencia.
I'm
having trouble with the language here in Portugal. I thought my
Spanish would get me by. One thing the guide books mention is
Portuguese pride. They are very proud that they aren't part of Spain,
and therefore are proud that they don't speak Spanish. Often I can
understand what they are saying, but am shy about asking for
information in Spanish. English (at least a few words) are spoken at
the train stations and hotels desks. There are lots of other tourists
here. I've seen only one other group of Americans, but lots of
Germans.
Who know when I'll be able to send this off. I'm not
getting a wi-fi signal here at the train station
Until Later.
Ciao!









