Lisbon to Porto

                            Lisbon to Porto

Tuesday, June 17^th, 2025- Lisbon, Portugal

         We were up early at 5 A.M. We packed our gear and then put our bags in the hall for pick up. It was after six thirty A.M. so we wandered down to the breakfast area in the first-floor lobby, where we were joined by Bill & Mary Kieffer.

          Cappucinos, with an omelette and some lox and swiss cheese made an elegant repast to start the day. One of the great pleasantries of travelling is the meals you share with new and old friends. Bill and Mary were engaging. Bill got in a number of quips. We enjoyed the meal.

          The group was scurrying around getting ready to board the 9 A.M bus for the ride North to Porto. Most of us, who had travelled a lot, knew enough to be aboard the bus early and ready to roll. Four poor unfortunates either didn’t get the word were eventually left behind. They would have to get a cab up to Obidos to catch up wih us. Carmen didn’t screw around with laggards, bless her heart.

          The ride North was pleasant, filled with snippits of Portuguese history and geography. Prince Henry, Magellan and a host of other Portuguese explorers all got their due recognition. Originally named “Lucitania” by the Romans, the Moors, Napoleon and other peoples had swept up and down the small strip of land on the Atlantic coast of the Iberian Peninsula. During W.W. II the country had been “neutral” and was a famous mingling spot for spies from all parties engaged in the conflict.

       The terrain along the coast here is rocky and hilly, like California. Earthquakes had shaped the region. Stands of Eucalyptus trees blossomed along the hill sides. It is a fast-growing replacement species for all of the original pine tree forests cut down and used for paper pulp. The Portuguese employ wind power, solar power and hydro power as their main sources for utilities. They hope to reach a 90% sustainable power goal in the next twenty years.

      As we neared Obidos, we could see the remains of what looked like an old Roman aqueduct. It wasn’t. It had been rebuilt by town fathers to replicate and original aqueduct that had fallen into ruin. Like much of Europe, the area was trying to recreate what I call a “Medieval Disneyland” for tourists.

     The bus let us off into the 90-degree heat. We walked under the portico, of the walled town gate, and into a delightful village. The two main roads inside the walls are all cobble stones. They are attractive as hell, but really difficult to walk on. The rows of shops were tourist cute. Notions, jewelry, snacks ana few taverns lined the way.

      One of the local customs involved drinking a sweet cherry licquer from a small chocolate cup. We dutifully performed the ritual. Shopping is right up there among my lists of favorites, with hemmerhoid surgery. I sought out a spot to sit, on the steps of an old church, while Mary browsed the colorful boutiques.  I was joined there by Gerry Bussey. We wondered why officials didn’t come out and shoo two old agnostics from their steps. We found out that it had been turned into a book store ages ago. No wonder we were left alone.

       The flowering Jacaranda trees were abloom in a bright pink. They spilled over the town walls and made for an attractive frame for pictures. The top of the wall was nearby. But, you then had to circumnavigate the town with no handholds along the wall. Screw that !

       Mary and I walked down the second major street. It was lined with small restaurants, with tables out in front. The heat chased everyone inside. We found a small place called “Gina Marquinna’s.” Sparkling water and lemon tarts made for a refreshing stop. Being inside also helped. It was hot out, near 100 degrees. We walked back to the bus pick up site and were glad that our driver came back early. The A/C of the bus was wonderful.

        From Obidos, we drove north along the coast. Hilly and wooded with Eucalyptus trees, it didn’t look too inviting. In Porto, we came into a very large, old industrial city. Three bridges cross the Duoro River here. One of them, we were to see later, was engineered by Gustav Eiffel of tower fame. The wrought iron steel work, with no sup[er structure, is a local land mark.

       The bus pulled up to a riverfront berth, where a sleek three decked craft awaited us. The “Duoro Cruiser” welcomed us aboard. We enjoyed a glass of champagne ( or two) and an hour long talk on “everything Portuguese,” while the crew ferried our bags to our staterooms. Everyone was in a festive mood, ready to spend a week cruising east on the Duro River towards Spain. Soon enough, we escaped to our rooms to clean up and prep for dinner.

        Meals were served “down below” on the first deck. At 7:00 P.M. we collectively descended and sat wherever we could find a seat. Sometimes you know your dinner companions. Other times you meet and enjoy the company of strangers who soon become your friends. There were 23 of us from our Spring Run Group, so we pretty much got to sit with one of our own for every meal. It was a good opportunity to meet and spend time with people whom might have “seen around” but didn’t really know. After a few glasses of wine, which they did not stint on, conversations became lively.

     Red Pepper soup, Salmon in sauce and vegetables and a lemon pie custard for dessert made for a delightful meal. Every night, the stewards served us a different red or white Portuguese wine. It was a good start to a week that would be both fun and relaxing.

                                              -30-

                                      (988 words)

                                  Joseph Xavier Martin