On the Duoro, approaching Porto, Portugal

Sunday, June 22^nd, 2025- Duoro River to Porto

         We were up by 6:30 A.M. it was 60 degrees out (F) and blessedly cool. We had breakfast at 7:30 A.M., enjoying the company as always. Afterwards, we sat topside, enjoying the cool morning air.

           The ship passed under the low bridge and then later dropped down the 100 plus feet of the “Big Mama lock.” We were nearing journey’s end at ocean side port of “Porto.”

            An 11:30 A.M. a disembarkation meeting in the lounge drew everyone’s attention. Colored tickets, for baggage, were passed out. Along with detailed bus schedules for the airport. It was well organized. Carmen detailed which bus each of us would ride on and what time that bus would be leaving dockside on the morning after tomorrow. About thirty of our passengers would be staying with Carmen for the three day  “after tour package.”

            We collected some fruit and cheese and then got ready for the 2:30 P.M bus ride into Porto’s center city. The heat had risen again with the rising sun. The bus ride in was a 30-minute trip. Our boat had tied up along the river, but outside of town. Besides all of the usual commercial traffic in the city center, Porto was getting ready for a regatta of the Rabelo boats, the broad, single masted galleys that transport the wine from up-river to the Processing plants in Gaia across the river from Porto. It would draw in the locals in throngs. Fireworks afterwards would entertain them as a finale.

          The bus into the city dropped us off at an ancient church, dating the the 800’s. Our Lady of Pillar church had stood on this site since the time of the Moors. A  Bishop’s residence sat behind it. The small stone plaza between them looked out over the ancient city. In front of the church,  the statue of  an armed and mounted  knight, “Invictus” attested to the City having never been captured by any of the various invaders. The whole plot of land literally sat on a hill top. Several streets fed downward into the town or off towards the Eiffel Bridge and across the rIver, to Gaia. None of these routes looked manageable to me.

         Our group walked down one steep decline towards Porto’s modern train station. They reported that the walls of the station are all tiled in multi-colored mosaics, depicting the history of the town. There was some shopping around the station. Most of the buildings that we could see had seen better days. Porto is an old industrial town. Like many cities, the better neighborhoods lay out in the suburbs.

        Mary and I staked out a seat at a Starbucks, and watched the pedestrian traffic swirl around us. Great coffee and lemon tarts made the wait pleasant. Huge throngs of visitors were continuing the weekend festivities. They walked down another hill and crossed the “Eiffel bridge”  to wander along the shops in Gaia on the other side of the Duoro. The bridge has no superstructure. Beneath it, the signature iron work is representative of Gustaf Eiffel’s design of his classic tower in Paris.

         We sat for a time on the steps of the old church in the shade of a very hot afternoon. Others began to join us. We were waiting for the 5:15 P.M pick up by our bus, and the 35-minute ride back to the Duoro Cruiser. The bus arrived on time and so did all of us. We were happy to be in the A/C and out of the sun. The trip was nearing its end and everyone was chatty and expectant of the various means of leaving for home on the day after tomorrow.

         On board, everyone cleaned up and met for the 7:00 P.M dinner call. Shrimp-laden Caesar salads, with great bread and generous servings of a red Portuguese wine, led into a “chocolate lava cake” for dessert. It was awesome. Some of our friends repaired to the lounge for after dinner drinks. We settled into our cabin to read and let the sandman take us away. The collective exertions of the trip were wearing on me. It was a great experience,  but still tiring for this aging wayfarer.

                                                     -30-

                                              (705 words)

                                        Joseph Xavier Martin