Thursday, April 7, 2011


Porto is a quaint little city carved into a hill above the Douro River. Maybe its the age of the city or just a lack of an engineer, but The streets are a cobbled maze of twists and turns. At times I felt like I was in Groundhog Day and was perpetually lost. Most people spoke enough English to get by, except the cab drivers. While cheap to take, there was a lot of sign language and long routes. 

I spent a lot of time on the message boards of the company owned site, in search of both trendy and traditional restaurants. The 2 nice dinners I treated myself to were truly fabulous. I had tasting menus at both and was blown away by the culinary expertise. Hope I still get into heaven after eating baby goat...

My observations so far:

*There are a lot more old people here. 
*Portuguese STARE at anything and everything. They are curious kindred spirits. 
*Everyone wears pantyhose. Mo matter the outfit. 
*The 80's are in. Neon sneakers, whitewashed denim and fanny packs abound. 
*Everything is smaller. From my hotel room (just a tad larger than my wing span) to beer (a mini bottle? Come again?) No percebo Portuguese. 

No comments:

Post a Comment