Saturday, 29 June
We woke up in our own apartment and decided to take things easy for the day. Finn was content to hang around the house so Jen and I finally roused ourselves and walked downtown to find a good breakfast. On the way we stopped at an impossibly crowded antique store to browse through the stuff. There was a lot of vintange petroliana available but I stayed strong and backed away from it. Jen and I found our breakfast at an interesting combination store/cafe (think of a Banana Republic with a full restaurant on the second floor).
We tried a Caipirinha for the first time, which were delicious and deadly, and each of us had a wonderful meal followed by cappuccino and dessert. Taking our time to slowly wander back home, we did some more lazy sightseeing and tried to find some other alternatives for food and destinations later in the week.
Sunday, 30 June – 7822 steps
We’d been told about a variation on the Pastel De Nata called Ovos Moles, which are the specialty of a coastal town a little south of us called Aviero. The town is nestled right on the water and also includes several examples of Art Nouveau architecture as well as a museum (and several ancient cathedrals, of course) so we set course southward to check it out. After finding some on-street parking that wasn’t covered by my app we got some lunch and commenced to walk the town. The Art Nouveau museum was underwhelming, as was the city museum, but we learned some things about the region and saw some beautiful buildings.
Stopping for our first ovos moles at a touristy cafe, we were underwhelmed with the flavor—very yolky as opposed to creamy like the Pastel de Nata. We walked the old section of town over to their historic cathedral and were lucky enough to sneak in before they closed, which was lucky; it’s a beautiful building filled with some incredible art (and one creepy seven-swords Our Lady of Sorrow statue).
Leaving there we decided we needed to make sure the subpar ovos moles weren’t a fluke and found a beautiful padaria where the woman at the counter hooked us up with several things to try. This one was a little sweeter but still very yolky—so we decided this wasn’t for us. With that, we headed back to the car and to our house in Porto.
Monday 1 July – 15,943 steps
Monday was the day. Jen and I plotted a course around the old section of Porto to see a bunch of sights, some of which we’d bumped into and others we didn’t know about. I got up early and crossed the street to pick up coffee and egg croissants at the bakery on the corner (something I’d already made a habit of; the guys behind the counter were exceptionally generous to your jet lagged correspondent) while everyone got ready to go. Our course took us first to a proper breakfast at a lovely cafe in the historic district, and we filled up on good food and our second Porn Star Martini of the trip (highly recommended).
From there we went first to the Chapel of Souls, an 18th-century church covered in hand-painted tilework, where we shot a few pictures and then went inside to pay our respects.
The influencers were out in force outside so we continued on our way to our next waypoint: the Majestic Cafe, an Art Nouveau restaurant with eye-watering pricing (most likely to keep the influencers from clogging the place up). We viewed it from outside and then kept moving.
The church of Saint Ildefonso is up on top of the hill in the middle of a shopping district. It has an unmistakeable impact on the area not only because of its location, but because of the incredible tile work across the outside of the whole building. Both times we saw it, it was behind locked gates, so we couldn’t go up or inside, but as an object in both morning and afternoon light, it was beautiful to look at.
From here we wandered further downhill, and through some construction to reach the Porto train station, which had been noted in a bunch of the different guides we read for its architecture and tile work. This was definitely something we wanted to see, so we brave the crowds and went inside we weren’t disappointed. The main hall is empty of benches like most modern train stations are, but is filled with people all staring upward at the tile and plasterwork.
Outside, it’s an old-school series of platforms with latticed ironwork creating a barrel roof, under which several trains sat idling. It’s actually in the middle of a valley so the trains leave through tunnels at the other end of the station, and the whole thing is surrounded by ancient buildings, reaching up over the edges. We stood and took pictures and walked the platforms for a while, then went back into the main building to stare upward for a while longer.
Leaving the train station, we wandered the streets slowly downhill until we found a nice open air café to stop and get a cold beer and a nosh to eat. We were entertained by a man playing an alto sax out in the Square for euros, who was perhaps, un willingly accompanied by a man in his 60s or 70s suggestively dancing to his music, trying to get women passers-by to join him. Café culture really is a thing, and I could really get used to it here in the states if our towns and cities were actually organized in a humane way.
The next thing we ran into was the Bolsa palace, the original stock exchange for the city when Porto was a key trading port. We were a little dubious about the ticket price, but once we walked in the building, and saw how magnificent everything was we were happy we had taken the chance. The middle courtyard was being rented out for some sort of event so we couldn’t stand in the middle and look upward but from where we were it was breathtaking.
One thing that we got to see that made us very happy was the final stop on the tour, a room called the Arabian room, which was decorated in the 1880s with carved wood covered in gold and Arabian accents.
Leaving the Bolsa, we found ourselves very close to sea level and figured we might try walking over one of the bridges to see the other side of the city. The city has three bridges, and we were close to one with a span we could cross at our level.
On the other side of the water, we took a break at a park and rest our legs and looked at a map. We realized we were very close to most of the port wine distilleries, and thought we would stop in for a tasting. We chose Callum as our vineyard, and were lucky to get a table outside under an umbrella to watch people walk past. Jen and I settled on a flight of vintage ports with a cheese plate to accompany things. All in all, it was a lovely way to spend an hour or two by the water and tasting fantastic wine.
From there, we walked back across the low span of the bridge to the funicular, which was a cheap way to climb 40 stories without having to walk any stairs. From there, we circle back to walk out on the top span of the bridge and view the city from high. It was beautiful, but a little wobbly so we only got out about a third of the way before coming back. On our way back we stopped past the church of Saint Ildefonso again, this time in the afternoon light, and marvel at how beautiful it still was. The rest of the trip was a slow uphill until we got back to the apartment and at that point we were so tired we didn’t go back out for dinner.
Tuesday, 2 July – 8662 steps
There were a couple of things still on our list that we wanted to see before we left Porto so we made a careful plan and mapped out our course for the last few highlights Finn had made a list of sites she wanted to see, one of which was called the Bank of Materials which is a collection built by the city of reclaimed tile from buildings that have been torn down. After getting a decent breakfast at a café, halfway downtown, we circled a square until we found the museum itself, which was tucked away on a side street. The museum itself wasn’t very big, but held too long racks full of wooden boxes with reclaimed tile inside with more patterns than we had seen out on the street—in geometric shapes, hand, painted scenes, and printed patterns. They also had an entire collection of porcelain street signs, plaster, castings, and a couple of mosaics on display.
After that, we wanted to see the Livaria Lello, which is build as the most beautiful bookstore in the world. As with many things in Porto, you have to get tickets so we figured out our entry time and only had to wait about 20 minutes to get in. Once inside, it’s filled with the requisite influencers, and TikTokers, all posing on the grand staircase, which is only about two people wide, so you have to wait for people to make duck lips before you can go anywhere. With about 1/10 of the people inside the library would be absolutely beautiful, but we had a hard time really enjoying it when being jostled by other tourists wandering up and down looking for the best photo op. They were hosting a celebration of José Saramago, the only Portuguese Nobel winner, whose biography display made him sound like a very humorous and interesting author—but none of his work was available in English. It was breathtaking inside but we all reached our people limit quickly and bailed out.
Worried about having some upscale clothing for dinner, we walked downtown Porto to try and find a women’s boutique with a blouse that Jen could wear (she packed for cold weather and it got hot on us) but the only two choices seemed to be cheap tourist peasant-type clothes or the Zara/Burberry stores where you have to buzz to be let inside. We gave up on this after awhile and headed back home.
We made plans to try a restaurant our hosts recommended, so we hopped in the car and drove to the west side of the city. The restaurant specializes in fresh seafood, and when I walked in I was met by a glass case holding some of the largest lobster I’ve ever seen. Our waiter was excellent and recommended some fantastic dishes for us: Jen had a seafood “açorda” (bread and seafood stew), I had grilled crayfish with butter rice, and Finn had steamed clams. They paired it with an excellent wine, and we were all in heaven. Everything was perfect and we had a great evening together. Waddling home, we all hit the sack immediately.
Wednesday, 3 July – 7715 steps
We got a late start on Wednesday, possibly because we were trying to put off the idea of having to leave. We did some straightening up around the apartment and I went out to fill up the rental car. There wasn’t much left to see other than wandering the streets, but we headed back downtown to find some lunch and check out a store we’d scoped out for Finn days earlier. The other thing we wanted to do was find the arts district to see if there was anyplace selling something we could bring home and hang on the wall, as well as some gifts for our hosts. We found a long street sprinkled with upscale art galleries—actual hung artwork on the wall—and smaller shops with prints and more tourist centered objects. We did stumble on one storefront, selling prints from local artists, which was perfect for what we wanted. After only about five minutes of looking, Jen found a series of prints by one artist that we really loved and we picked a bunch out for ourselves.
Then we regretfully wandered back to the apartment to straighten everything up, repack all of our gear, and get ready for the following morning.
Thursday, 4 July
Our flight was at 12:20 so we wanted to be in the airport by 9 AM. We got the rental car back to the counter by 8:20 and we’re walking into the airport by 8:40 from there. We had to wait about an hour for the ticket window to open up to get checked in. Once that was complete, we made our way through security and found our gate. I had woken with a sore throat and my nose had started running, so we stopped in at a pharmacy and got me some bizarre Portuguese cold meds that tasted like old sheets and a couple of masks I could wear on the plane.
The first flight to Lisbon went without any problems and this time we had an extra 40 minutes to make it to our connecting flight again there was some confusion as to which gate we were supposed to go to, and once we got into the boarding line, there was an extra security check that made no sense to us. But we boarded the plane and settled in for the flight. Then it turned out. There was something wrong with the plane. They made us wait an hour, and then had us deplane out onto the tarmac and get onto some very hot buses. At this point, I was running a fever, so standing on that bus made me feel like my eyeballs were boiling in a pot of stew. They drove us to the other side of the gate to a different plane, let us bake on the bus for about 20 minutes and then got us on the new plane. There was no issue with this plane, so they got us in the air and we flew without incident back to Dulles. After collecting our luggage, we called for an Uber and got back the house at about 12:30PM (6:30AM Portugal time).
Portugal (and Spain!) were very, very good to us, and I would not hesitate for a second to go back. Obrigado!
I spent my time in Portugal trying to be in Portugal and not spending it behind the eyepiece of a camera or at a keyboard, with varying levels of success. The goal was to unwind and I think I was pretty successful at that, other than the stressful parts of driving in unfamiliar cities. I did keep some brief notes on paper, and I’ll do my best to line them up with any pictures I’ve got.
Friday 21 June – 9,310 steps
We caught an Uber to the airport and had a smooth flight over the Atlantic to Madrid, where things went a little sideways. Iberia airlines do a great job in the air but only provide 37 seconds to catch connecting flights, which meant what you might expect: we missed ours. Madrid airport is huge and they made us transit from one end of it to the other, with a 12-minute train ride in the middle. We got to our gate and the woman told us we couldn’t board, so we had to join a queue of other people waiting at a help desk for further information. They put us on a new flight leaving in 6 hours and gave us vouchers for the McDonald’s in the airport (no thanks) so we got some Iberico sandwiches and found some benches near a charging station to wait things out. The flight to Porto went pretty quickly. By the time we got our baggage, it was 10PM local time and all the rental counters were closed, so we Uber’d to our apartment and dropped our stuff off. Then we wandered the neighborhood to find some food and got pizza at a place around the corner playing Bollywood music videos.
Saturday 22 June – 4,903 steps
Rising late in the day, we Uber’d back to the airport and picked up a new rental: a shiny gray Peugeot 308. The Uber driver told us we were right on time for the Festa De São João Porto, the yearly tribute to St. John the Baptist, and the city’s biggest celebration. We returned home and I found an app to handle street parking in Porto, which was confusing at first until I got the hang of how it tracked time. I don’t have the final bill from Budget yet but I never saw a ticket tucked under the wiper, so I think we made out OK.
We then wandered the neighborhood looking for some dinner and found a place down the hill who served us giant plates of meat with expertly cooked cabbage and potatoes.
Sunday 23 June – 10,756 steps
We walked across the street to a tiny storefront called Comfort Cakes and were lucky enough to be seated out back in a cozy garden, where we got a hearty, healthy breakfast with great coffee. From there we walked downtown to the river for the first time, a total drop of about 470 feet over almost two miles. Walking downhill for the first half was pretty normal; it felt like most normal cities in that the streets and sidewalks were wide and things felt airy. At about the mile mark things suddenly narrowed and the sidewalks were only big enough for one person. We were clearly in the Old City at this point, and it was wonderful. Apart from almost getting run over. We made it down to one of the landmarks on the bucket list, the Igreja do Carmo, and did a little shopping across the street.
Walking down by the river, they were clearly ramping up for the celebration but we weren’t feeling up to the crowds quite yet. So we wandered back north a little bit, and stopped in a restaurant for a Francesinha, which was good but not the wonderous delicacy we had been promised. Wandering back to the house, we relaxed and listened to the city as they shot off fireworks and watched candle-powered lanterns float across the skyline.
Monday 24 June – 7,468 steps
This was our first travel day; we rose late and got on the road in the early afternoon to Lisbon. Driving through the Portuguese countryside reminded me a lot of California in that the ground cover is all brown but the trees are green, and the vistas are wide. The Peugeot was very pleasant to drive long distance once we figured out how it integrated CarPlay with our phones; the only trouble we had was when Maps got behind where we were and missed important turns in the city. We made it into Lisbon in the afternoon and Siri helpfully directed us to pull into a taxi stand outside our hotel, which made the drivers very unhappy.
I backed out of there and drove up steep alleyways until I found a place to park, then walked to the hotel for a garage key and hiked back to the car. After checking in, we did a little wandering and found an outdoor café serving seafood, where Jen and I shared a giant lobster/seafood stew.
Tuesday 25 June – 14,840 steps, 28 floors
This was our big sightseeing day and we had a lot of ground to cover, so we hit the ground running. We got a quick breakfast and then waited in line for a trolley to carry us up the hills to an open-air flea market on the other side of the castle. This was worth the wait, as the climb was steep (I’d gotten us a hotel in the Rossio district, which is centrally located in the historical area but almost at sea level) and we hopped off with only a short walk to go. We toured the market—so many tempting things there, so little suitcase space—saw the National Pantheon, and hiked over to the castle to wait in line for entry. After some confusion and indifferent ticketing agents we finally got inside and were delighted to find a whole family of peacocks wandering the grounds.
The main castle involved a lot of stairs, and we climbed many of them before our calves and knees rang the alarm bell. After exiting the castle we wandered back into the central section of the city and had dinner at a little out-of-the-way restaurant our concierge recommended. Here we had some traditional Portuguese fish—Jen had the cod while I had the seabream. She got a nicely filleted cut on her plate and I got the whole wangdang fish—but it was delicious even though I had to remove a few bones. We capped off the meal with some Port wine and a dessert, and left a good tip for our waiter, who couldn’t have been nicer.
Wednesday 26 June – 6,611 steps
We got up earlier this day because we knew we had to get on the road and out of town early, so I found a breakfast spot called The Folks Sé, where Jen said she had the best french toast of her life, and where my black coffee was good enough to convince me that black coffee is good. We wandered back to the room, got our gear together, and reversed the complicated process of checking out to get on the road. Our destination was the town of Evora, where Finn had found something she wanted to see: the Chapel of Bones. The drive was pretty uneventful but the Maps app suddenly got very balky which resulted in us driving in loops around an ancient city filled with one-way alleys the width of a closet door. We finally found a place to pull over, reset the map, and dive into the city a different way, which led us (by chance) to a tiny parking lot where we were able to find a spot.
The Chapel of Bones is part of a larger church built by Franciscan monks, and is breathtaking to behold. I haven’t been to the Catacombs in Paris but this is a similar vibe. We toured the church and surrounding area, then hopped in the car to continue on to Seville, which was another three and a half hours away. The drive was lovely, and whatever anxieties we had about crossing into Spain were for nothing. Just like in the States, there’s just a sign and then the road quality changes. We got into Seville late, and I was past the hangry stage. We tried to get seats at the hotel restaurant but it was smaller than advertised and full, so we settled for room service cheeseburgers and champagne.
Thursday 27 June – 12,770 steps
We woke up early to hike to the Alcazar, which was only a mile of very confusing directions away. The map app got us pretty turned around but we were able to make it within our admittance time and we got our bearings inside a glorious outer courtyard. Once through the main gate the true beauty of the place was breathtaking. We’ve seen parts of it on Game of Thrones but to actually be there is another thing entirely. The palace is sprawling and includes indoor and outdoor gardens, and I think we walked every inch of it. The tilework is exqusite, and even if we couldn’t make it to the Alhambra further west, I’m so glad we made this trip. There were a few moments in the courtyard when the murmur of the crowd died back and a flock of starlings chirped as they chased each other in circles; I could imagine standing there centuries ago as a visitor to the palace.
From there we walked out into the center of Seville and up to the main cathedral, where I popped online and got us some tickets. I’ve been in a lot of cathedrals over the years, but this one was whoa. Like somebody with Trump’s sense of interior decoration got in there and barfed gold leaf all over everything. It’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but overdone by a factor of three. We walked the whole cathedral, stopping to look at the remains of Christopher Columbus and reviewing the choir box in the center, which looked more like a set from the Ministry of Magic in a Harry Potter novel.
Feeling exhausted, and unable to face up to the reality of all of the stairs between us and the top of the bell tower, we walked back to the car and hit the road for Sintra. It was a long drive—about four and a half hours—and we wound up getting in to our tiny hillside hotel at after 9PM. They got us checked in and we set Finn up for bed while we ventured out in a rainstorm for some dinner. We had to walk up the hillside road into town and found seats at an excellent little restaurant the concierge recommended to us. Unfortunately, the walk back down the hillside was just as wet, but with full stomachs, it wasn’t as bad.
Friday 28 June – 8,089 steps, 34 floors
Our day in Sintra was one of highs and lows, successes and failures. The hotel provided a lovely little breakfast to our room, and we got the car packed up and ready as soon as we could. Driving into Sintra, we hunted for a parking spot and found one close to the Sintra National Palace. Because the parking app I already had on my phone was incompatible and the other three it suggested would not let me open accounts, I sent the girls ahead while I struggled to get the parking issue sorted out. Then it turned out we were in the entirely wrong place; the palace we wanted to see was further up the mountain and we’d need to take a bus to get there. We bought new tickets and I got some coins to cover the parking, and we hopped on the bus up into the mist.
Ordinarily Sintra is clear and you can see the surrounding castles and countryside for miles, but it was socked in with fog all day for us. Which made it kind of spooky and cool, actually. The bus dropped us at the Moorish Castle, which is a little further down the road, but we then realized we needed to get to the National Palace of Pena (the thing we’d actually come to see) as soon as possible, because there was still a half-hour hike up the hill to get to the entrance.
Once we were there, though, it was worth the money and hassle. The castle is like a life-size version of the fanciful ones I built out of LEGO when I was 9; the architecture was incredible throughout the whole building. We toured the palace and ended up outside overlooking what would have been the valley. Knowing the parking meter was a ticking time bomb, I left the ladies to get a bite to eat and check out the Moorish Castle, and hoofed it back downhill to get more money in the meter. With that done (7 minutes to spare!) I walked further up the street to a café and sat down to a delicious ham and cheese sandwich with a warm cappuccino.
The girls gave me a play-by-play and returned to the car soaking wet; the rain had increased as they were touring the second castle. I’d heated up the car and we hit the road for Porto. We stopped off at a service stop for gas, sandwiches, and a Red Bull for me, and made it back to our apartment after the sun had set.
Part 2 coming up next.
- Smoking is still a thing in Europe. We have all but abolished it in the Mid-Atlantic region of the US; in Europe it’s still acceptable to sit outside and light up a heater next to a family of four eating dinner.
- Beer and wine are available in highway rest stops.
- Highway rest stops in general, actually—they are tidy, well-stocked, the food is decent, the service is friendly, the bathrooms are clean, and they are well-organized. Portugal, you win this one.
- Prosciutto, all the time. What the fuck is wrong with America? Prosciutto is amazing, and it’s available everywhere in Portugal. It’s the foundation of a lightweight sandwich (the Iberico) which washes down great with a Fanta or a lager and doesn’t make you feel gross for eating half a deli counter.
- The Pastel De Nata is a lovely custard-filled tart you can get almost anywhere for ~1€. It’s not quite the pastry of heaven we were promised, but it’s pretty fucking good with a cappuccino on an empty stomach.
- The Ovos Moles, however, were kind of gross. The custard is more egg yolk than anything else, and it’s sealed in a thin crust made of unleavened Catholic host. We tried these at two different bakeries in their town of origin and were not impressed.
- Hill braking. Our Peugeot 308 is a manual and was very fun to drive, but some of the grades in Portuguese hill country were 10˚ or steeper. Having a hill brake (in neutral, letting off the brake facing up an incline, the car holds your position until you’ve engaged the clutch fully) was a godsend, or I would have smoked that transmission on the first day in Lisbon.
- The Mediterranean. We were able to see it from the southern route we took back to Porto, but it wasn’t ever close enough to warrant a detour just to say we’d dipped our toes in it. Very beautiful to see.
- Cafe culture. I wanted to stop at every cafe in Porto, Lisbon, Sintra, and Seville just to sit and have a coffee or a drink. What a lovely way to live life (apart from the smoking).
- Red Bull. So I’ve avoided Red Bull since the 90’s when it came on the scene; I tried one or two at that point and just switched back to coffee, the taste of which I enjoyed more anyway. Now that I’m Middle Aged the diuretic effects of coffee hit me a lot harder, and after a bunch of my plumbing got modified during surgery it doesn’t leave me with a lot of time for an escape plan. Facing a 250km drive in the warm Iberian sun while still slightly jet lagged, I needed something to keep me awake that wasn’t going to have me shitting in a bush beside a Portuguese highway. Red Bull did the trick, and I was able to sleep each night when we got to our destination. Still tastes like Hawaiian Punch, though.
- Espresso after dinner, at least for Bill, is a Bad Idea. We had an incredible seafood dinner Tuesday evening on the east side of town which I finished off with a tiny cup of the local rocket fuel. Laying in bed when we got back to the apartment, I passed out at 12 until about 4, and then woke up wide-eyed, trying to fight off intrusive thoughts about developments in US politics. I didn’t return to sleep, choosing to watch YouTube videos until the sun came up. Now I’m high on two cups of coffee and a Sudafed because if I nap at any point today I won’t sleep tonight. And strangely this did not have the expected effect on my bottom system. My middle-aged chassis remains a mystery.
- eSim cards. We’ve had mixed results with these, which are basically apps that can be downloaded to use European cell carriers instead of racking up expensive roaming fees through our US-based carriers; on the whole it’s been great to be able to access maps, ticketing apps, and websites from our phones. In practice we’ve found it hard to get reliable service from them. Mine will work and then Jen’s won’t; two hours later it’s the opposite. They will claim we are connected but they aren’t, or we just don’t get cell coverage in certain areas. And Finn’s phone is apparently not compatible with them at all (see: expensive roaming fees).
- European hillside houses. I am fascinated with the architecture and construction of houses built into hillsides and on top of cliffs and next to windy streets; Portugal is lousy with them. I feel some connection with my grandfather, a mason, when I look at these magical buildings and wonder how they were built and who designed that cool stairway and where does that little door go? I spend a lot of time wondering who the people were that lived in these places and what their lives were like.
- Parking in Portugal has been challenging. There are machines which take Euros, and there are apps you can use without leaving your car. Some of the apps work in certain cities and some don’t. Some require a European bank account, 24 hours to transfer money, and a signup process longer than a US tax return. This is not helpful when your ticket to a local museum is scheduled for the next 20 minutes (and the Europeans are strict about admittance times). Some require a premade account not offered through the app. And some—like the one I’m using to park outside our apartment—have a very fluid definition of timespan. Hopefully I will not be bankrupted by hidden parking fees when we return home.
- Scooter culture. I would love to have a Vespa or Lambretta to pop into town for fresh bread and vegetables, or to go pick up dinner. It would make a lot more sense to only have a scooter here in Europe, as gas is extremely expensive—almost a dollar more per liter. They are, predictably, cheaper to buy here, but I’d have to pay to ship one to the states. So it washes out, I guess.
- The rambly vibe of Portuguese cities. There seem to be neighborhoods like there are in US-based cities, but things are a lot more spread out here—in the US there are clusters of restaurants or shops clumped together like islands in a vast ocean, where in Portugal you can find a bar, restaurant, shop or pharmacy on almost every block. The sense of city as community is strong here—it’s the exact opposite of the US. I can see why Europeans who live in the States might feel isolated and lonely almost immediately.
- There are also a lot of empty storefronts (at least in the area we’re staying) where sometimes it looks like things shut down last week and sometimes it looks like it closed in 1762. Hard to say what the reasons for that might be.
- Good shoes. I was told we Americans would be easy to spot because of our brightly colored shoes, but truthfully I think we’re pretty average. I bought a new pair of light Nikes before we left and they have been perfect for climbing steep, slippery cobblestone alleyways, even if my heart and my knees aren’t up to the challenge.
- Exercise. On that note, I’m woefully out of shape. Time to get serious when we return home.
- Because I have decided to only carry a cellphone as a camera, I have shamelessly embraced the family selfie. I am not, however, wandering the city behind a selfie stick or gimbal mount, as I have seen repeatedly this past week. It feels weird and wrong not to have a specialized camera (apart from the 35mm film camera I’m carrying) so I’m spending more time focusing on being in the place and less time trying to compose shots of the place. I feel that this is progress. I also feel like one of my arms has been chopped off.
- I’m becoming more and more aware of my mood in relation to my stomach; there have been several times on this trip when my blood sugar is low and I’m struggling to keep my wits about me on a dangerously empty stomach. This is aggravated by the fact that we’re 6 hours ahead of our normal schedule. We have joked several times on this trip that Finley travels on sugar, but I need to stay on top of my hangry better.
- BMW drivers in Europe are the same entitled, inflamed assholes they are in America. Turn signals are optional, and they will drive right up your butt until you get out of their way. Nice to see some things are universal.
- The Portuguese, with the exception of ticket attendants at the major tourist spots, are all the most lovely, patient, understanding, and friendly people. Which is a blessing, given the challenges your correspondent has with communication.
- I really need to learn, or at least, do some basic studying on a Romance language to beef up my skills. I hate being a stupid American.
- The weather, apart from rain and fog at the most scenic of our destinations, and one day of heat in our second week, has been glorious. It’s been around ~72˚ and sunny for most of our stay, and we missed the heatwave that sat on Seville by one day, making our tour of the Alcázar a pleasant one.
I’ve been spending a lot of time away from the computer in Portugal for both mental and practical reasons; I spend most of my waking hours in front of one on a normal day so it’s great to look up from the keyboard and not think about looking back down for several days on end. I have had to consult it here and there (where are we going? is there street parking? what time are the tickets? do we need ID to get in?) but I’ve tried to keep things as non-technological as possible. My Instagram feed is pretty quiet as well.
We’re back in Porto, where we have an apartment lent to us by friends, for the first time in five days, and we’re sitting on the couch relaxing while a tiny European washing machine gurgles on the patio next to us. Today’s itinerary is “fuck-all”, as we’re catching up from some travel through Portugal, into Spain, and back again, and waiting for clean clothes. We put about 745 miles on a rented Peugeot 308, staying in hotels along the way, and we got to see some amazing sights. Portugal is like what Ireland would be if it was in California: there’s another castle over every hill, except that they’re still in excellent shape and not surrounded by sheep. I’ll write more about the details later.
I made a conscious decision not to bring a ton of cameras on this trip after talking it over with Jen. Instead, we both upgraded our aging iPhones to new 15 Pro models, and I’ve used mine as my primary since we’ve been here. I also brought Dad’s 35mm Minolta X7000 and my DJI Action camera, but that’s the extent of what I’ve been lugging around. It’s weird not to be using a dedicated camera for the first time in 25 years, but what I’ve been getting out of the iPhone has been pretty damn good. And I’m not ashamed to say we’re leaning into the selfie on this trip, as we don’t have a lot of current shots of the three of us.
We’ve been discussing the AI policy (and current lack of one) at work lately, and during a retreat last week we did an exercise on how to use AI for simple tasks. I’ve messed with it before and found it useful for certain things. One of the suggestions in the retreat, however, caught my ear: have AI map out a vacation itinerary. In years past I’ve bought a travel book for that region or city and used it as a guide, with both success and failure, so having a robotic tour guide didn’t sound like a bad idea.
Intrigued, I plugged a couple of questions into ChatGPT and after some tuning, I got a four-day itinerary for Porto, where we’re going to be vacationing later this coming month. I cross-checked the suggestions last night with Google Maps and found that they hold up pretty well; the AI doesn’t have us walking into the Atlantic Ocean to get somewhere, or jumping continents for dinner reservations. I’m now looking at the feasibility of driving to Lisbon and nearby Sintra with a couple of overnights, and I’m going to ask ChatGPT what it recommends doing down there too. For quick suggestions, this is a lot faster and can give us specialized hints, especially if we fine-tune the requests.
Yesterday I spent more money in one day than I have since I bought this house, and while part of me is thrilled, the other part is a little queasy. In the morning over coffee, I locked in plane tickets for a trip to Portugal in the early summer, right after Finn gets out of school. We’ve got friends who own an AirBnB in the city of Porto, and we locked in a date with them last week. I’ve got a line on a house sitter for Hazel, and I’m making those inquiries this week to reserve his time. Normally, I’m lousy at planning things like this out far in advance, but I’m trying to learn from past mistakes this year, and when these opportunities arise, you have to jump on them.
In the afternoon, after careful consideration and an assist from Dr. Gebler in the negotiation phase, we bought a new car to replace the Accord. This is a 2024 Honda CR-V EX in Canyon River Blue, optioned out with the same features the 2006 has (electric everything, moonroof, cruise, etc.) plus heated front seats, an electric driver’s seat, dual climate controls, lane-keeping assist, and a backup camera. We did a quick test drive to make sure the windshield didn’t make Jen sick, then pulled the trigger and got it for $50 over dealer invoice. The salesman couldn’t have been nicer, and frankly the process was much smoother than I was expecting. The only hiccup was waiting for the detailing crew to get it ready for me. After everyone else left for home (it was a complicated commute involving two cars and late homework). I drove it home solo while talking to Mom with the hands-free phone hookup and felt like I was on the bridge of the starship Enterprise. And for an automatic, it’s really nice to drive.
Future plans for it include aftermarket remote start, a set of Honda rails and roof racks, trailer hitch, and rubber floor mats throughout. And I’m not a fan of the stock wheels; I’ll have to keep an eye out for a set of these at the pick and pull yards around town.
Meanwhile, the ’06 is in the driveway patiently waiting for new tires and a clutch rebuild, which will come first on the list once money issues get sorted out.
We’re home from Puerto Rico after a lovely 10-day stay at a fancy resort hotel. This isn’t the first time Jen and I have stayed at a hotel (we traveled to Curacao before Finley was born) but we’re very rusty on how these things generally work. Some thoughts from the trip:
The flight was cheap because the hotel underwrote it to get us to the hotel; Frontier Airlines, while not the top-shelf carrier available, was remarkably clean and punctual, even if they did charge us extra for everything. Baggage and seating were tacked on to the ticket, but it was a direct flight and we didn’t have to cattle-call to get three seats together. The seats were relatively comfortable, and there was plenty of legroom.
Our hotel, the Wyndham Rio Mar, was beautiful. Our room stunk of mildew no matter what setting we had the A/C on, and it seemed to get worse as the week went by. That being said, there were seven restaurants available to us onsite, including two outdoor bars, a huge set of pools, a palm-fronted beach, and most importantly, drink service everywhere on the premises. All in all, not a bad place to stay. Our half was the Wyndham half, and the other side was part of the Margaritaville chain. We did some light investigation and it looked like that side was in better shape than ours was. As would be expected, food and drinks were roughly double what they would be in the outside world, so our final room bill was, shall we say, large.
The hotel concierge is there to help you find things to do, but also to put a hard sell on the not-a-timeshare timeshare presentation to get you to buy into the Jimmy Buffet Empire; we listened politely to the pitch from our sweaty concierge, took his maps, and noped the fuck out of there. I avoided him for the rest of the trip. Sorry, Enrique.
On the first day at the beach, I was out in the surf with Finn having a good time floating in the warm Caribbean water. A rogue breaker hit me from behind while my attention was elsewhere, and I lost my brown Ray-Bans to the gods of the ocean. I had them for over ten years, and they served me well; I’d lost them several times but they always seemed to turn up. I did go to the lost and found twice to see if they’d washed up on shore and were turned in, but had no luck.
The hotel was three miles away from the El Yunque National Forest, the only tropical rainforest in the U.S. National Forest System. After consulting with the concierge, we rented a car and drove up the road to check it out. After stopping to check out several of the sites along the way, we parked our little rental and hiked a mile and a half through the forest along a 650 foot elevation increase to reach the Britton Tower, which, on a good day, offers a view of the water on both sides of the island. While we were there the clouds blew in underneath us and we were treated to a gentle, cooling rainshower. But the air was clear and crisp, and the scenery beautiful. It was worth the pain in my calves and thighs. I should note for the record that I am woefully out of shape.
The Ford Focus we were rented was an interesting comparison to the Explorer I got a month ago; the Focus felt agricultural and buzzy compared to the smooth and powerful SUV. I had no problem with the transmission in the Explorer but it felt like the Focus was constantly hunting for a gear to be in, and I was constantly jamming my foot to the floor to get it to move. Visibility sucked behind my right shoulder; I never felt safe trying to change lanes. It got us where we wanted to go, but I wouldn’t ever recommend one.
Old San Juan was about an hour away using the no-toll route, and it was beautiful. Both times we got there in the afternoon and had to pause for food before we could explore; we were advised to park down by the water where the cruise ships come in, and we instinctively walked up the hill away from the touristy shops to find good places to eat. On our first night we chose an out of the way restaurant and lucked into some of the most delicious food on the trip, as well as the best margarita of Jen’s life. The second night we found a louder place advertising honest Puerto Rican food, and we all chose excellent meals. The city is absolutely beautiful, especially at night; I should have brought a set of Pantone books down to try and capture some of the colors used to paint the villas. If we’d planned better we would have spent a full day there exploring the fort and more of the city, but I think we did really well with the time we had.
Jen had asked some of the employees at the hotel where they would go if they wanted to eat real food, and we got a good lead on a restaurant in a local town, so we made a beeline for that on the last morning we had the car. We found the place off the square of a pretty little coastal town called Luquillo and sat down for some of the most amazing food we’d had on the whole trip. Tostones (twice-fried plantains) are absolutely delicious. The trifongo at this restaurant, served with a fried strip of the local fish, was out of this world.
Everybody we met was amazing. Frankie the cab driver was engaged by the bellhop to pick us up at 1:30PM for our 4:30 flight out of San Juan, but the bellhop got the time wrong. Our room phone rang at 1:45AM for reasons my tired brain couldn’t comprehend, but I woke enough to put it together and realized he’d texted my silenced phone. I sent back a profuse apology and he waved it off, telling us he’d see us at 1:30PM. The car ride out to the airport was friendly and fun, and he told us not to worry about the hassle, but I doubled his fee for his trouble. Everyone asked us how we liked Puerto Rico and we honestly told them we loved it.
I’m acutely conscious of my inability to speak a second language. Somehow, in some way, I’ve got to start learning Spanish without looking like the dad in Barbie. You know, with all the free time I’ve got.
On my way back home from New York, I stopped to get a bite to eat and use the restroom somewhere in Pennsylvania. I saw the sign for a Waffle House and figured that would be quick and cheap. Both were correct, and the food had no flavor. On my way out of the parking lot, I drove around back and noticed this statue of the Virgin Mary next to a sketchy path leading off into the woods.
I got the fuck out of there in a hurry.
One of the things Jen has had on her bucket list is to go see the lights in New York City during Christmastime. We decided we’d make this one of our advent activities this year before time gets away from us and Finn grows out of it entirely. We boarded an early-morning train on Sunday and got up to the new Moynihan Train Hall by 11AM. I was so happy to climb out of the track areas into a beautiful new station with soaring ceilings and modern amenities, and happier still that Finn didn’t have to experience shitty old Penn Station as her first introduction to New York.
After sorting out the breakfast and bathroom situation we walked out into the sunshine and headed east on 34th until we hit 7th Avenue, turned north to 34th and then walked east again past Macy’s and through Herald Square up to the Empire State Building. We couldn’t seem to buy tickets to go up to the observatory level, so we punted and kept walking to 5th Avenue where we turned north and walked to the lions in front of the Public Library. Pausing to take some pictures, Jen had to clear something from her eye so Finn and I browsed through the vendors in Bryant Park until she was able to find a mirror.
From there we continued north up Fifth Avenue, hoping to take in the windows; things have changed a lot since I’ve been in the city. It’s essentially one big mall connected by sidewalks and construction; every store available is someplace we can go at a local mall. It wasn’t until we got closer to the park and the high-high-high-dollar stores until we started seeing good window displays.
5th Avenue before Rockefeller Center was closed off to traffic and there were food trucks and performers parked outside. We peeked down through the plaza at the tree and decided we’d wait until dark to explore it further. The windows of Saks were done up with some EXTRA clothing and shoes, and it was super fun to look them all over. Right up the street we climbed the stairs to St. Patrick’s Cathedral and walked inside with a throng of other people. I found a $5 bill and we walked up the aisle until we found a saint we all liked, and then lit candles for Jen’s mom and my Dad. It was a lovely break from all of the crush of people and noise and cold to sit on a bench with my girls across from the votive stand and listen to the hymns and hush of people out in the pews.
Back outside in the fresh air, we walked up 5th Avenue and around the corner to the Tiffany storefront, where, disappointingly, there was nothing in the window. We crossed back over 5th Avenue and through Grand Army Plaza into Central Park, where we took a left at the Zoo and walked to Gapstow Bridge so Finn could see the true scale of New York City.
Walking back up 5th Avenue on the other side of the street, we paused in front of Bergdorf Goodman, whose windows were by far the best of any of the luxury stores. At the top of the hill the street was still cordoned off so we stopped for some mocha lattes to power back up, then plunged back into the crowds forming in front of Saks for the display. They have the lights on the front of the store keyed to different music, sort of a luxury-goods version of the Metallica House, and we enjoyed a quick medely of Elton John before heading down into the plaza to look at the skaters and the tree. I told Finn about the Christmas tree that came from Mahopac after we explained that it was a real tree, and tried to move closer to the edge to look down on the rink.
We kept heading down 50th Street past 30 Rock, and stopped inside to show Finn the murals in the lobby, which remain amazing. Noticing they’ve added a big arcade with food in the basement, we headed downstairs to find bathrooms and some food.
Once we were fed and watered, we continued west on 50th until we hit 7th Avenue and walked south to Times Square, which was probably even more crowded than Rockefeller Center had been. It was, we explained to Finn, the closest to Tokyo she’d probably find in the U.S. and she was suitably impressed (if not overwhelmed).
At this point it was cold and we were all tired, so we continued south to 34th Street and back to the train station, where we posted up on some comfortable chairs and warmed up with some drinks until our train arrived.
We walked back in the door at about 1:30AM and went directly to bed; I don’t think any of us got a decent night’s sleep. Jen’s watch said we walked about 9 miles in total and over 20,000 steps, which is pretty respectable, I think. I was happy to have worn Smartwool socks and an UnderArmour Cold Gear shirt; the only parts of me that were cold were my hands. All that being said I was happy to be in a warm bed.
There was a point when we were walking back up 5th Avenue towards people and Christmas music and lights and dusk was just beginning to set in, and I was happy to be in the Big City with my girls, enjoying the feeling of sharing the season with thousands of strangers.
I think we all had a great time in Texas, even if it was an unorthodox vacation for us. Normally we go someplace and there’s a mission or an activity to be accomplished; this can be anything as stupid as get to the beach before noon or as complex as be in the lobby by 8 for the bus to St. Peter’s Square. There’s a plan, and we try to follow the plan. For this vacation, we had a destination, we had friends to see, and we had a vague notion of things to do, but most of the enjoyment for me was just coasting from day to day. As such, this review is going to wander all over the place, because I don’t remember exactly what happened when, and that’s kind of a good thing.
The house Jen found for us was absolutely perfect. Set on the east side of the city, we rented a mod little cottage set back from the road in a stand of trees. It was cool, quiet, decorated tastefully, and within walking distance of several restaurants that served great coffee. I made it my job to rise early and bring back breakfast for the three of us to slowly get our days started. We had the luxury of having the house to relax in, and actually spent a fair bit of time there just enjoying the cool quiet by ourselves. It was clear they’d spent time designing it with sunlight in mind; each wall was sprinkled with small windows set high off the ground for maximum privacy. All the surfaces were reclaimed wood, and the floor was poured concrete.
Jen had ideas sketched out for each day. Our first day on the ground, we pulled beach towels and swimsuits out of our suitcases and drove to Deep Eddy, a cold spring-fed community pool that was very quiet for such a hot day. We lucked out and found a parking spot right out front, paid our tickets, and were able to immediately wade into refreshing water with a very slippery bottom. Being spring-fed, it took me a while to get up to my waist, but it was worth it to see Finn wade right in and make some new friends.
We spent Friday hitting some of Austin’s best thrift/vintage stores; they take their thrifting seriously down there. We started at a place called the Leopard Exchange, where I found a vintage Budweiser delivery shirt that fit like a glove. Around that shop were about five others, each with their own vibe. The level of curation at these places is beyond anything I’ve seen in Baltimore—there are a few vintage clothing stores I’ve been to here but nothing like the selection and pricing we found there. I looked long and hard for a good western pearlsnap shirt but came away empty handed—the closest I got was made of heavy polyester and wouldn’t be comfortable for a day’s wear. Finn took us to an alternative store and picked out a corset with Jen’s help; she found a way to relace it and wore it for the next couple of days.
On Friday I posted a picture of a Scout I saw on Congress Street to Instagram and the local IH community said hello; I’ll write more about that elsewhere. We walked the length of the street and found some great artwork, as well as spending time in a store called Lucy In Disguise with Diamonds, which was full to the rafters with interesting costumes for Halloween and from feature films. After stopping at Guero’s Taco Bar for some dinner, we hiked down the hill to the Congress Street Bridge, where a crowd had gathered to watch the bats fly out to hunt at dusk. It was incredible; thousands of bats following in trail down the river and out over the city, enough to show up as a dark blot on the horizon.
When the main swarm had left, we rented scooters and rode them back up the hill to our car, which was one of the better ideas we had all week.
We spent Saturday and Sunday hanging out with Linda and Cam at their house, and they took us to a couple of their favorite restaurants in the area. It was great to catch up with them and relax.
Monday we drove to Barton Springs, another naturally-fed community pool, and spent a good bit of the day swimming in the cool water under the skyline of the city. It was a perfect way to spend the day—just wading in and out of the water, with noplace to get to and nothing else to do. When we started getting hungry, we reluctantly dried off and drove to a restaurant called Chi’lantro, where Jen and I ordered Kimchi Fries, a dish Linda has been talking about for years. We were not disappointed. Then we checked out some more stores featuring local art, hoping we’d find something good. It was hit and miss.
On Tuesday we did some shopping for our neighbors, who helped us with housesitting, and who always bring back interesting things from their travels. We hit a store called Uncommon Objects, which featured an incredible collection of curated antiques and oddities, including some artwork we loved but couldn’t afford.
We don’t have an Alamo Drafthouse by us, so we thought we’d take in Thor: Love and Thunder on our last night in town. We had a lot of fun, and Finn loved the movie. I think the thing I remember most about that experience was a music video they played before the show which was equally disturbing and hilarious.
Wednesday morning we hustled back to the airport, turned in our little Buick (review: nice little car, but abysmal visibility past the B-pillar) and sailed through security in record time. The flight was uneventful, and we got back to our house by 4PM. All of the pets were happy to greet us except for Bella, who remained asleep on my pillow, and we collapsed into chairs, tired from the trip.
I would happily return to Austin anytime as long as they can stave off Gilead; it was a great city filled with great people and a vibe I remember from the early 90’s in Baltimore when it was weird and full of artists. I’d love to transplant a bunch of that energy here.