Porto- Portugal

Only a week after getting back from Venice, we were off overseas again. You gotta love living in London – only a 2 ½ hour flight and you’re in another country.

The Hotel was a metro ride and short walk away but we didn’t arrive till 11pm by which time I was absolutely starving. Being tired, hungry and therefore grumpy my first impression of Portugal as we walked the streets for almost an hour trying to find somewhere to eat, was not good. How could the 2nd biggest city in Portugal have no food shops open? Not even McDonalds! Finally we found a café/restaurant where we got toasted sandwhiches and hot chocolates. Unlike other European cities, Portugal obviously isn’t famed on hot chocolate. I almost laughed when they gave us a jug of hot milk and 2 sachets!
As we walked around the streets it became apparent that Portugal has its fair share of fruit loops, more so than our previous destinations. One lady went right up to a car stopped at an intersection and leaned through the passengers wound down window. When the driver took off she staggered towards us murmmering as she did so, like something out of Dawn of the Dead.
We set off the next morning to explore the city, full of old tiled buildings, churches and cobbled streets. The was an abundance of grey and it appeared quite drab and run down but still maintained some charm. I’m sure in its time, the city would have been quite stunning.
We hadn’t been out for long when it started pouring with rain. So what better way to shelter than to go shopping? Clothes stores here were so much cheaper than London and every 3rd shop was a shoe shop so after we were done we had to do some skilled packing to fit everything in our bag. The mall didn’t close till 11pm. I was up for some dancing at the nearby Brazillian dance club/bar but all that shopping had tired Warren out so it was an early night for us.
The next day we wondered around the city some more and thinking we could see a market in the distance we headed towards it only to find a bird market! There was one in Paris too. It’s a whole heap of birds chirping away in cages with them and all their associated parafanalia available for sale – cages, seeds, bells, etc. Weird.
From here we walked up the highest tower in Portugal, 288 stairs which provided a really cool view over the city.
Stopping for pictures along the way, we headed over the river to where all the Port cellars are. You can’t go all the way to Porto- home of Port and not learn something of the Port process. All the cellars were closed for lunch so we looked around for somewhere for lunch. Porky selected a homely and popular diner serving the local specialty of tripe and meats cooked over hot rocks. I had my doubts over this place but their food was really tasty and reasonably priced. We then headed to Sandilands for their Port tour but the next English tour wasn’t for ages so we stopped off at the next cellar where we got a private tour by a lady who rattled off a memorised speech with the enthusiasm of a dead fish. It was quite interesting learning of the process, though I think the group English tour at Sandilands would have been better.
I was keen to do more shopping but though we walked around the city searching, none of the shops were open. So we went back to the Hotel, picked up our backpack bulging with yesterdays shopping, and headed to the city clockhouse for a few quick night photos. For dinner we went where we knew would be open and we’d be spoilt for choice- the mall foodcourt. Yesterday I had my long awaited cannaloni and today they made me a pasta while you waited. You selectd the type of pasta you wanted the sauce and the topping while they cook it on the spot. Crazy but I had better Italian at a food court in Portugal than in a restaurant in Venice! Warren was brave and went authentic at a soup and meat place where the signs were in Portugese and the staff didn’t speak English. The bravery paid off as the food was really good! The good court in the Mall was really cool it reminded us of Las Vegas. There was a giant xmas tree and fairy lights all around. The surrounding walls were painted as colourful houses with balconies.
After dinner we begun our very long journey home. After another delayed Ryan Air flight where we were told if we didn’t make it to Stansted before it closed at 12, we would have to divert. We got there in time but being a non EU passport holder meant we had to wait in the longest immigration line I’d ever seen! So long, it wasn’t even a line, more a huge bunch of people crowding around, waiting to join the line. So we queued for a good hour and a half, then follow that with an hour and a half bus back to Victoria (no trains run at this time) and then 2 more night buses from Victoria to Putney. So we very wearily collapsed into bed at 4am! I’ll think twice before booking a 20pound flight at 9.50pm again! And yes, we did have to get up for work in a few hours time…

Venice

Exactly as I imagined it would be, Venice is romantic, beautiful and enchanting. Enough so to rival Paris in all those areas. Venice is the perfect destination for a weekend, enough to see and do to keep you entertained for a couple of days while being able to leisurely loose yourself in the maze of cobbled alleyways. Our journey started as many of our trips do – stranded at the airport wondering how the heck we were going to get to the hotel, but this time all 4 of us had overlooked a minor detail – the Hotel’s address! Hayley called and got directions but ‘cross the big bridge over the grand canal’ in Venice was about as useful to us as ‘cross the big farm over the little stream’ in the Waikato! Luckily Mike- the passing by Aussie came to our rescue.

After waking up bright and early to chiming bells from a nearby church we started the day with our now familiar European breakfast of croissants and ham and cheese rolls. No cakes this time though. Our agenda for the day was basically to wonder around the streets. We took the map the hotel gave us but within half an hour of walking we were completely lost in the tiny, cobbled alleyways – but that’s the fun of Venice. Like Sardinia, the shops were mostly expensive boutique like ones and there were plenty of gelato and glacier shops to tempt you – but when you’re already freezing, eating cold ice cream doesn’t hold the same appeal – but I can recommend the cincominto mmmm. Venice has heaps of really cool mask shops containing many exquisite beautiful but fragile pieces complete with feathers and price tags to match. I wanted to buy one for Mum but didn’t think it would withstand the transit to NZ, so I bought myself a mask jewellery box instead.
After wondering through streets and browsing in shops we tried to find somewhere for lunch. Unfortunately we made the same mistake as we did the night before, being that we unknowingly selected a ‘chain’ restaurant. The food was completely average although Warren ordered cuttlefish and despite ending his meal with ink stains all over his mouth, he seemed to enjoy the meal. It was good to come in from the cold though. After lunch Kirk made it his mission to find somewhere playing the NZ vs France game. With an Italian football game on at the same time I thought our chances of this were about zero. But full credit to him. We were in Venice, in an Irish Bar that served Mexican beer by a Bulgarian watching NZ play France with Italian commentary! I got chatting to an American couple sitting next to us and when they left, a French couple. The French didn’t speak much English though so after a few sentences of conversation with a bit of miming involved, we were pretty much done. NZ thrashed France so Mr France wasn’t in the best of moods. Afterwards, the Irish pub started playing System of the Down and an assortment of other non-Irish- non Italian music. We got chatting to a friendly couple from Ipswich and the Bulgarian Barman. The Italians chose not to mix and mingle with us and in fact the group sitting next to us picked up their table and moved it to the other side of the bar then would glance over and stare at us every now and then.

Venetians are quite cold people. They weren’t rude but definitely not friendly. I would say they are worse than Parisians. For example when I said “bounjourno’ to the Hotel receptionist he didn’t reply, no smile, nothing. In all our encounters with people, there were only 2 who would describe as friendly and one of them was Bulgarian! Most shop keepers wouldn’t smile or greet you and you got a real anti-tourist feeling.

Warren and I would have happily chatted and listened to music all night but luckily we had sensible Hayley and Kirk with us who remembered that reception at our Hotel closed at night. We came within 5 minutes from sleeping under a bridge – at least there were plenty to choose from, but they all had water under them!

After a pretty slow start to the morning, we opted for a water taxi to the main square. The water taxi system appeared to operate like the tubes with different coloured lines and directions but was a million times more confusing. Through the course of about half an hour we criss crossed back and forth between 3 or 4 platforms and puzzled over their information boards but managed to get on the right boat. The 45 minute ride was quite pleasant an provided some great views of the canals. Once we reached the main square and had deciphered the confusion of visiting the bascilla (there was a big long queue to get in but it was actually closed so people were queuing, walking in and coming straight out the exit) The boys opted to sit the basilica out while Hayley and I went and had a look. The roof, floor and most of the walls apart from some areas of marble were covered in mosaics, little tiles arranged to make elaborate Christian portraits. They were so well done that you couldn’t tell the roof was a mosaic. I would have loved to take pictures but unlike most of the tourists in the church I chose not to ignore the no photos sign.
The American couple in the pub the previous night had shown me the photos they had taken in front of the church with pigeons over them. The square is crawling with pigeons which the Venetians refer to as ‘rats of the sky’. Although it’s not something I would normally do, I thought the American’s photo looked so cool that I bought some seed, threw it over myself and within seconds was crawling in pigeons. Fortunately none of them crapped on me and despite only having our point and shoot, the photos turned out quite cool.
From here we went up the Bell Tower for a fantastic view over Venice. I would even rate it up there with the view from the Empire State Building. We got the audio tour to go with it so got about an hours worth of history and facts of Venice. Hayley and Kirk left for a Gondola ride while Warren and I weaved our way through the streets trying to make it back to the Hotel. I had time for a quick photo shoot of the canal and a hot chocolate at a local patisserie before we met Hayley and Kirk for dinner. I was hanging out for some good cannelloni but as in Sardinia, this didn’t seem to feature on many menus so we settled for a diner/restaurant close by. Unfortunately we weren’t having much luck with our eating choices this weekend and this was no different. A stodgey gnocchi, a soup so salty it was barely edible and a lasagne that I could have made better myself. I was looking forward to a real hot chocolate too- they are literally like drinking melted chocolate, but I couldn’t find one of these either. But at least the milky hot chocolate I had at the café was really good… and I know an Italian restaurant in Putney that serves the real hot chocolate!


Despite the rude people and crap food, there is no denying the beauty and charm of Venice. Well worth the visit.