"Is there anything you want to do here?" Katie asked me.
"I didn't look ahead, let me see what the hotel gave us," I said. "Oh look, there's a spa. That could be nice. Oh...it's more expensive for the men? What kind of...? Oh....OHHHH. It's a swingers' spa. Never mind."
So...we are very happy we've stopped in Porto. But we do think two days was the perfect amount of time. We stayed up late last night, and woke up late this morning, which is how the portuguese hours seem to work. We headed over to the cathedral early this afternoon to get our Porto stamp for our pilgrim credential. It's a massive building, like the torre yesterday.
"Where's the entrance?" I wondered. We had gone all around the torre yesterday looking for it.
We turned around the front of the building. Accidentally in unison, we both said, "OUR PEOPLE!"
Spot the pilgrims if you can...
We obtained our stamps, identified the trailhead for tomorrow, and enjoyed the street musicians in the square.
After, we headed down toward the river for our boat tour.
"AND WE'RE ROLLIN', ROLLIN', ROLLIN' ON A RIVERRRR..." I belted.
"After only about 5,000 steps," Katie added. "Do you remember our first Camino? Going up hills we'd be like 'oh we will see the next town from here' and then..."
"And then we didn't? Yes."
"So any time these steps look like they end, just remember, there are more."
And there were. But after many steps and talking to three different people, we found our port and headed into the water.
"This is nice," Katie said. "Being transported."
"Moving without walking? How odd."
The tour was confusing. We had no idea which bridges the recorded guide in English, Spanish, and Portuguese was talking about, so we made up our own commentary.
"Wow look at all of THOSE steps," Katie pointed out.
“This doesn’t even feel real. The sky’s so blue. The colors are so bright..." I said.
“I mean how lucky are we?" Katie responded. "Well…I know it’s not luck….cuz we’re white.”
I cackled.
That whole colonization thaaaang.
“I just took a page out of your book on systemic racism ," she laughed. "…but really. We're so fortunate to see all of this."
We enjoyed the breeze going up and down the river. When we stepped off, we headed back up the hills toward the Mercado do Bolhão. We both drank 1.5 liters on the boat, so we were desperate for a bathroom.
"I need a caffeine hit anyway," I said. "So I'll get coffee and we can use their bathroom."
It just so happened that the next spot with coffee was a gelataria. I mean. If it's the lord's will...
While the gelato worker scooped our desserts, Katie asked me, "Do you think I look red from too much sun or from going up this hill?"
"It's not bad," I said.
"You're not what we call 'British red,'" the gelato worker chimed in.
I cackled. The Belgian man I met on the Camino, Frank, had told me something similar the week before. During our walk, he said "You can always spot an English person. They're so desperate for sun that they never wear sunscreen, so they're beet red after only one day of exposure."
"So I'm not British red?" Katie confirmed.
"No," the worker said. "We also call it 'shrimp.'"
Well. Fortunately, we made it to the mercado, which was, as Katie said, "a chef's dream." It was full of fresh food.
We spent a couple of hours having an a la carte lunch. The not-British- red person was able to rejuvenate with a well-balanced meal.
After a couple of hours at the market, Katie and I went back to our hotel to find a lavanderia (laundromat). It is time to prepare our backpacks for returning to the Camino tomorrow. There was a lavanderia around the corner from our hotel. While our clothes dried, Katie stepped outside to light up a pipe.
About 20 min later, as we were folding our dried clothes, Katie said "...am I that high, or did a bride just walk by?"
I opened the door and peaked out, "no, there's a bride there."
"Okay, cool."
We brought our clothes back to the hotel. For the second time, the concierge had our key ready to hand to us.
"They must have a camera, she always has our key ready," I said.
"I think she just hears us... we're loud," Katie said.
We dropped off our clothes and headed back downstairs for dinner.
"I look so red and greasy," Katie said.
"You don't look red at all," I responded.
"Oh, so I am greasy?"
A block from our hotel, Katie noticed a cozy spot.
"It says comfort food?" She said.
"I like comfort!"
It was a tiny place with a cozy vibe and a short, but delicious, menu. Fernando, the owner, told us the restaurant was full but he could put us on the terrace until a spot opened.
"The wine is on me until I can get you inside."
"No worries," Katie said. "It just looks so cozy in there."
"It is, but the owner is crazy," he said.
"So am I," I said.
"Who isn't?" Katie added, at nearly the same time.
He laughed. "I like you two."
He asked what we were doing in Portugal. We said we were doing the Camino.
"One day I will do the Camino," he said. "But by car."
He loaded us up with constant wine, delicious appetizers, and two great meals that we both split. Our company was a Belgian and Canadian couple. Every time a new person came to the table he announced their nationality and introduced us all to each other, as well as our nations of origin.
Finally, we had to beg him to stop refilling our glasses and bring us the check. Tomorrow, we have 28 kilometers planned, Katie's first day, and we plan to start at 6:30 am.
"Good luck on your walk tomorrow!" The Belgian cohort told us.
"If you hear of two pilgrims crawling to Santiago tomorrow....it was us!"
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