Went for a run, then a swim. People began to emerge at about 9, we left the house at 10:30.
Drove to Douro Valley, stopped in a little town (Pinhao) and parked somewhat haphazardly on a cobbled street. We found a nice little cafe: Princesa do Douro. Freshly made sandwiches, decent coffee, clean facilities and friendly service. We bought a Pastel de Nata which is a traditional tart, filled with something similar to egg custard. It was very tasty, wish we had bought more. Nice place to stop.
Tiles are a thing in Portugal.
After lunch we tried to wander around the town, but it was too hot and Husband was too antsy, so instead we went to the boat place. This was more complicated than it sounds, as there are several different boat companies and we had booked online. Found the name on a building and went inside. We sat in the company office while they looked for our reservation, enjoyed the air-conditioning, looked at their photos, downloaded their app—then discovered that we were in the wrong company office, so left very quickly! Hunted for the correct company. Found it eventually and waited in line at the little jetty. Worried that people from the arriving coaches might take our places, but all was fine. We boarded the little wooden boat, and sat under a shady awning, looking at the view.
We had a one-hour cruise down the river, looking up at the vineyards on the hillside. Very pretty. The boat had shade, but it was still hot (didn’t need my cardigan). There wasn’t a tour-guide, so we just looked. It was pleasant, but I was happy it wasn’t longer than an hour. Some people were on boats that had come from Porto, and I fear this would be very expensive, uncomfortable and hot. But perhaps I’m wrong.
Drove back. Lots of winding roads, which I don’t feel G particularly enjoyed. It felt like a long journey home. The Douro valley is pretty, and it’s ‘a thing’ so you sort of feel obliged to do it when you’re here, but to be honest, a quick drive would have been enough for me. It was fun to see the tiered vineyards, and to spot the giant signs, like Hollywood signs, marking the different port manufacturers.
I got my mark for my proposal (68). Husband ate a nectarine and then got straight into the pool (these statements are not linked). J and F shared a tiny dessert (we had more, they must have wanted 1 ½ teaspoons each).
Wednesday
We ran to a little chapel, set on rocks at the water’s edge. According to Google, it is open for visitors, but the doors were locked when we were there. As the sea is the Atlantic, which has big waves at the best of times, I can’t imagine how it survives storms.
As we drew close, there were lots of school children arriving, so we slowed down (I am exaggerating) and dodged them as we ran along the boardwalk. Sections of the beach were cordoned off with ropes, and there were little tents where they put their bags. School on the beach must be a thing in Porto. I didn’t see any toilets, but perhaps they have an arrangement with a nearby restaurant.
There were also little tents hired by elderly people. They sat on deckchairs, watching the sea. Much nicer than the ‘meat market’ arrangement that I have seen on Italian beaches, where loungers are laid out with a couple of feet between them and no shade.
The beach here is nice, though probably not great if you like sea swimming, as there are lots of rocks. The sand is fairly soft though, so lots of people use the beach for sunbathing or walking. It has a nice family feel to it. After running, I walked back along the beach, paddling in the sea. There was a lot of sea weed, and a few shells, and some huge black sea-slugs–the size of my shoe–which looked like giant fruitgums. The weather was warm, though most days there was a strong wind coming from the sea, so it never felt hot. Definitely a fun place to have a holiday.
Thanks for reading. Hope you have a good week. Take care. Love, Anne x
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I am writing this in Portugal, in a rustic house near the coast of Porto. I can see a corner of the ocean as I write, a strip of blue glinting over the hedge between the trees and the house next door, and I can hear it, a steady sweep of waves over rocks providing a constant background to the dog barking, and the birds in the trees and the occasional car. In a nearby tree, a pigeon coos, and seagulls wheel over the garden in their screeching search for food, joined by the crow of a cockerel in a nearby garden.
We arrived yesterday afternoon. We should have arrived in the morning, as our plane landed soon after nine, but the owner had an electrician here (apparently) so it was not possible for us to arrive earlier—not even to drop our bags. After a 3:45 taxi, this was somewhat annoying, though everyone was polite (ish) when Husband told them the news. I noticed that he waited until we had landed before sharing.
It actually wasn’t too bad. We collected the hire cars—less hassle than usual, once we realised the system of getting seats in the shuttle bus before putting our luggage in the back, otherwise our luggage would leave without us (they need to rethink their logistics I feel). We drove (or to be exact, Husband and G drove, while J navigated despite his headache) to a fishing village near the villa. It was an exciting journey, with J doing his best to test G’s driving with lots of cobbled streets, and U-turns in narrow roads, and unexpected roundabout exits. (He claims it was due to closed roads and road works, and we believe him.)
We parked in a surprisingly convenient car park right next to the beach, which was guarded by an old woman under an umbrella who was collecting money for a saint. (Not quite sure which saint, or why the saint needed the money, but the old woman was diligent and shouted something foreign at us when we walked past without donating.) The car park was free. We knew this, because we very quickly ascertained that F speaks Portuguese that people here actually understand (unlike my Portuguese with is excellent but sometimes seems to confuse people) and we sent him off to read signs/ask random people whether there was a fee.
We left the cars and all our possessions except for the suitcase containing secret banking information that would cause the economy to crash if it got into the wrong hands, and walked along the prom.
The beach was wonderful—sand and rocks, fishing boats sheltering behind a sea wall while the waves crashed over it, green nets strewn over the sand, and a chimney way down the beach. No idea what the chimney was for—smoking fish? Alfresco dining?
It started to rain, which made things less pleasant. A friendly fish restaurant allowed us to shelter under their awning while they set up ready for a 12 o’clock opening. When they opened, we went inside. It all looked very nice, and possibly expensive, but it seemed we were eating there.
We had a round table between a display of very ugly fish arranged on ice, and a glass cabinet full of exciting-looking desserts. We were given English menus, and chose a variety of meals—sharing dishes between two was a thing, and they were priced differently. They brought bread and cheese while we ordered, and we gobbled it up pretty fast. The meals arrived in metal dishes, which the waiter served onto plates next to the table. Husband wondered if there were seconds (there were) and coped fairly well with having only a modest amount of food on his plate. Made it harder to plan mouthfuls I guess. I ate fried veg served with tomato rice—very tasty. Most people had fish in some form—J and F shared claws and legs and body parts of various sea creatures, which looked like a hassle to eat (one of them resorted to fingers before the end). We shared dessert and had coffee. F, being almost Portuguese, ordered a drink that sounded like Pingu, and he described as being a small white coffee, and it seemed to please the waiters (who probably get fed-up with inept tourists torturing their language).
We drove to the supermarket and parked. (This was not as easy as it sounds, we had a nice detour round the back of the shop.) I had a well-organised list, with difficult words translated into Portuguese, which I divided between the family. They all gave their list back to me, and told me they were going off to explore, so it was all just as chaotic as normal, with random things appearing in the trolley. I remembered to check the dishwasher tablets really were dishwasher tablets (because we washed crockery in de-scaler last year) and tried to look competent when weighing fruit and adding price stickers. M was very distracted by the stickers. We didn’t buy frozen stuff. We didn’t buy water (because the villa details said they had excellent drinking water).
Arrived at the villa. Very pretty, full of rustic furniture with beautiful grounds. The owner told us the water was safe to drink, but in a way that clearly conveyed that she would not drink it herself! Husband went out to buy some water. We allocated rooms—no one was sure about the very pretty room with a balcony because it was lacking doors—though I think we were all tempted. J and F bravely took the murder suite/separate annex. M had no air-con, so kept the door to the hall open. R co-opted the spare upstairs bathroom as her private shower room.
We walked down to the pizza place on the beach. The view was stunning. I was going to photograph the restaurant afterwards, but it looked too much like a public toilet from the outside, so I will wait and take one inside. They were very friendly, and the meals were delicious, though needed more salt. The blokes mainly drank big beers (served in those tall glasses that have a waist so look bigger than they really are) and the rest of us drank sangria (which involved more choices—in Portuguese—than I was expecting). It was delicious, and I could have drunk the whole jug. Very nice evening.
Today, I woke at 6:30, and waited until 7:30 before waking sleepy Husband and dragging him out for a run. We ran along the boardwalk, past several fat men and fully made-up women exercising next to the sea. Very lovely.
After a quick shower, we played tennis, and I learned that Husband is now almost as rubbish as I am. We changed the game to simply trying to get the ball over the net as many times as possible. It was fun, and I rediscovered muscles I never knew I had. Gradually the rest of the family emerged from their rooms. R took up her post lying next to the pool in the sunshine. M swam round the pool for a very long time. G went for a lonesome walk. We waited (for a very long time) while J showered, and then went for a walk with him and F.
The main coast road is fairly busy, and they have painted the pavement red, which means bikes feel free to whiz along them, and pedestrians don’t really have anywhere safe to walk—which seems like a silly idea. Parallel with the road, across the dunes, is the boardwalk (which is probably where pedestrians are supposed to walk). We walked to look at Galo Petisqueira restaurant, then joined the boardwalk. The beach is very pretty, with big waves and lumps of rock (but probably not a great place to swim).
Stopped at the little shop (open on Sundays, which was a surprise). Husband wanted some fresh bread (fresher than the stuff we bought yesterday) and some more water. No one here seems to speak English—it’s not a place for foreign tourists. Luckily, we have F, our secret weapon, who speaks very good Portuguese. He managed to negotiate that there were bigger water bottles in the store room. He also helped out when the woman was confused by Husband’s mime that he wanted 15 bread rolls. (Hard to know what she thought he meant—5 or 10?)
Ate lunch in the dining room. All agreed that we like this villa. Tried to plan whether we should do any excursions—and did not all agree. M want to do expensive cruise down the Douro valley, R fancies a wine tour, F wants to spend time in the city, I want to drink sangria at a beach cafe, Husband wants to build a dam o a river on the beach. (No one understands Husband’s choice, apart from the boys, who also want to. Genes are a funny thing.)
Males played ‘Small World,’ I read, R sunbathed. Then we tried another game of tennis, this time with M and F. I think we need to change the name of the game to ‘Sorry!’ We were fairly equally matched, but this is not a good thing. Dinner was at the pizza place again. We asked to sit outside, and they thought it would be fine to use a table for six and add a seat on the end. It was cramped. But the view was fabulous. People seemed to enjoy their meals better this time—and F chose very well, so we all intend to copy him next time. Three of us shared sangria, and R was the only one able to pour it without spilling it everywhere. This is now the second time I have shared my drink inadvertently with J (but it’s hard to feel guilty given the history).
I will tell you more tomorrow, we had such a lovely time.
Thanks for reading. Have a fun week, and take care. Love, Anne
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A terrible night’s sleep. Went down for a Sheraton breakfast, which was rather brilliant – it caters for all of us. I have fruit and pancakes, others have eggs, some people (no judgement) have fruit and pancakes and bacon and cheeses and eggs and pastries and salmon and mushrooms and…
Metro into Porto (hotel is really a business hotel, so although it’s comfortable, it’s a long way from the ‘touristy’ stuff). We walked past the postbox sculpture where we posted our postcards – have a sense of doom about those cards. Saw a shop which sold tins of sardines. Just tins of sardines. The tins were brightly coloured and dated, right back to the early 1900s (I am hoping the sardines inside did not also date back that far). They were intended as gifts, due to Portugal being a centre for sardines, but at 7 euro each, they were a bit too expensive a novelty for me. Shame, Mum likes sardines and her postcard is probably lost forever.
Pizza lunch in a café that had nice pizza, but no light in the ladies loo. As in, no light – not a missing bulb, there was no fitting; which with no window either made for an interesting experience.
Went on a ‘free’ walking tour (you pay whatever you feel the tour was worth, at the end). Met Pedro, our geographer-turned-tour-guide. He was interesting, with some good sarcastic humour, though not especially friendly. Part of the tour was to a student café, which is called – in Portuguese – ‘Head lice café’. Pedro can say “head lice” in 26 different languages. Useful skill.
We also saw two churches, built almost – but not quite – touching. The Catholic church doesn’t allow churches to have adjoining walls (why?) so between the two churches was a narrow house. This is possibly the inspiration for Sirius Black’s house in the Harry Potter stories, as J. K. Rowling lived in Porto for a while. We saw the queue of people waiting to pay to go in to the bookshop which is thought to have inspired her moving staircases, and the Diagon Alley shops. J. K. Rowling has clearly been good for Porto. So too, is Ryan Air, as apparently before they began cheap flights to Porto, no one ever visited the city. This might actually be true, because many of the nice restaurants were fully booked, and it was often hard to find somewhere to eat.
There are more tourists than the city is quite ready for. The prices are also low at the moment – how long before they catch up with demand, I wonder? Visit Porto soon, before it gets expensive; but book your meals before you go!
Pedro told us that there is still some poverty in Portugal, a remainder from the days when it was a dictatorship, and people were encouraged to have big families, little education, and mainly farm for a living. He said the statue of a blindfolded Lady Justice, with her folded scales, show how the law courts functioned under the regime. Portugal had a peaceful revolution, and it’s now a democracy. It is also very hot, and a 3 hour tour was slightly too long for me.
We went to McDonald’s to recover. It used to be the Imperial Restaurant, and has chandeliers and art nouveau decorations. It also has dirty tables and disgusting toilets, so I didn’t like it.
Metro back to the hotel.
Thank you for reading.
Our next stop is Lisbon. If you sign up to follow my blog, you won’t miss it.
Anne E. Thompson is an author of several novels and one non-fiction book. You can find her work in bookshops and on Amazon. Thank you for reading. anneethompson.com
If you enjoyed this, you will love my new book: The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary.
I have always written a diary on holiday, so last Christmas, I decided to find all my old diaries and blogs, and make a book for my children. However, several other people also asked for a copy, so I have written a public version – it’s available on Amazon and has been described as “The Durrells meet Bill Bryson”!
Why not buy a copy today? I think it will make you laugh.
Metro into Porto. Wandered down to the river, which is very pretty. Crossed the bridge to Gaia after lunch. Eating here is very difficult, as all the restaurants seem to be fully booked or closed. Which then makes you wonder why the ones with vacancies have vacancies.
On the bridge a young man was standing on the balustrade, wearing swimwear, waiting to jump. Gradually, a crowd gathered, waiting to watch. Would he plummet to his death? Be run down by one of the large pleasure boats passing beneath the bridge? Or dive spectacularly and emerge on the bank? I think none of the above. When a fairly large crowd had gathered, a group of his friends passed amongst them, asking for money. I never saw him jump and I think it was a scam. Later, a different young man was standing there, waiting to jump. Perhaps I should have pushed him in.
The Gaia side of the Douro river is the north side, so it gets less sun. It’s where all the port cellars are. We saw the signs for Taylor’s, Graham’s, Cockburn, and Calem’s. We had a tour of Calem’s. Tour guide was very witty. At the end, we sat and tasted three different ports ( a proper, small glass, of port, so a proper taste not just a mouthful). This was great fun, we each liked a different port, and one of us drank rather a lot by the time he’d finished off all the glasses that other people weren’t keen on.
We then left, via their shop (not stupid the port-making people). The port was much cheaper than you can buy it in England, and came in nice gift boxes and bags, so we all bought some as gifts. I’m not sure that it all actually made it back to England with us, but I won’t say any more about that. It was an excellent afternoon.
Portugal is one of the main cork growing places in the world. They are trying to increase the popularity of cork by using it for products other than wine stoppers. So as we walked around, we saw lots of shops selling postcards made of cork. We all bought one for our mothers/partners who are back in England. We passed a postbox with a fun sculpture next to it, so took lots of photos and posted our cards. Then we worried that the postbox was just part of the sculpture, and not a proper postbox at all. Tried to retrieve cards, but it was impossible. All the post-offices in Portugal seem to be yellow–so why would there be a red English postbox? I fear we may never see those cards again.
Walked back to the metro and stopped for ice-creams. When the train arrived, there were lots of people, so I quickly jumped onto the train, the doors shut, and the train set off. I then realised I couldn’t see any of my family, and I had no idea of which station I needed to get off at, or how to get to the hotel from the station. Felt rather abandoned. (When the children were small, I had strategies for this sort of disaster—now they are all super-competent, they sometimes forget me.) R sent me a message, telling me which carriage they were in, and which station to get off at. Found them. Will keep a closer eye on the group in future.
I had a nap, while the males tried to book a restaurant for dinner. The males failed. It was raining (raining!) so we got taxis back to the cathedral. (The cathedral didn’t get a mention earlier, because I didn’t like it.) Walked to several fully-booked restaurants. Found one, next to the river, with okay(ish) food and okay(ish) service. No one got food poisoning, which is the main thing.
Walked back to the metro in the rain.
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Another instalment of our holiday in Portugal will be posted soon.
Thank you for reading. You can follow my blog at: anneethompson.com Anne E. Thompson has written several novels and one non-fiction book. You can find her work in book shops and Amazon. Why not buy one today? (I think the best one is CLARA – A Good Psychopath? which shows how someone very bad, can achieve something amazing…
We had planned a family holiday for the last two weeks of August. As the date grew nearer, the whole of Europe was gripped in a heatwave. We watched as temperatures in Portugal went over 40, and saw wild fires on the news. All rather a worry.
Saturday
We met R at the airport. J had been helpfully sending her updates on our progress (wrong airport, earlier flight, left already) but we managed to meet her at the bag drop.
All good with the flight. I sat next to M/factoid boy, and therefore knew lots of facts about Portugal by the time we arrived. Some of these were interesting, for example, did you know that the Romans called the region known as France and Spain ‘Gaul’ and we were going to the area that was the main port, hence ‘Port-o-Gaul’? Or that, an exploring nation, the Portuguese discovered Newfoundland? However, after trying to establish a colony there they left, saying there was ‘nothing there’—hence name ‘Ca nada’.
We collected a car (smaller than expected) and drove to Sheraton Hotel in Porto. The hotel has a glass lift. It was quite noisy when my family went up in it.
We walked to the metro. Buying tickets was slightly more complicated than we first thought, as ‘number of tickets’ means number of journeys on a single ticket, not number of tickets. Once we had sussed that, it was very easy, though I’m not sure my family was the fastest user of the automatic ticket machines. We caught a train to the old part of Porto.
We ate ice-creams in Freedom Square. Factoid Boy ate custard tart, as this is apparently a traditional food in Portugal. We then wandered around, taking in the atmosphere. There were lots of cool designs done in tiles, especially the railway station (Sao Bento Station). It was built in 1916 (most of Europe was too busy that year to build fancy stations with tiled patterns).
Family spent 6 hours looking on Trip Advisor for a nice restaurant for dinner. R didn’t feel the ‘Traditional Steakhouse’ that J recommended would necessarily cater well for vegetarians.
Finally ate at A Despensa—a lovely Italian restaurant. It had a great atmosphere, and we all like Italian food. The only problem was the washrooms, which were gender specific but only inside the door.
Metro back to the hotel. Rather tense discussion about what time we would meet for breakfast. Went to bed, slept well. Holiday going well so far.
Thank you for reading. I’ll post another instalment of our family holiday diary soon. Why not sign up to follow my blog so you don’t miss it?
anneethompson.com
Thank you for reading. You can follow my blog at: anneethompson.com Anne E. Thompson has written several novels and one non-fiction book. You can find her work in book shops and Amazon. Why not buy one today? (I think the best one is CLARA – A Good Psychopath? which shows how someone very bad, can achieve something amazing…
Anne E Thompson 