Nicole, my very good friend, flew to Eindhoven last Tuesday night. She got a little look at Eindhoven while we traipsed over the cobblestone city centrum. The weather treated us well and we even got to make a quick circle around the block with a borrowed bike. Riding a bike in Holland seemed like an exciting adventure since it is a large part of the transportation and culture of Eindhoven. I packed when I got back to the apartment and tried to get even a few hours before waking up in the early dawn to head to Portugal.
Since Nate was able to drop us off before he headed to work, we were there plenty early. Our plane ended up being many hours late because of a French air strike, but luckily our layover in Madrid was lengthy so we had no issues. Our Portuguese flight attendant stated with his thick accent, "Our flight will be two hours and 25 minutes. We will be arriving much later than scheduled due to thee- uh, Frrrrench. (2 second pause) Air strike."
This reminds me that in our travels, we have realized that some countries have issues with their close neighbors and may slip out racial slurs or comments at times. For example, when we had been at a castle souvenir shop a man walked up to the counter with an information booklet and asked, "Excuse me, do you have this in French?"
The cashier pursed his lips and stated with sarcasm, "We are not a library."
The Frenchman went on, "You have it in Russian, you have it in Croatian, you have it in many languages, but not French?"
The cashier only looked at him silently.
It's interesting to see lasting attitudes from either politics or maybe immigration patterns?
When we arrived in Portugal, Nicole and I lucked out with most things-- information, transportation, beautiful 5 star hotel, and friendly/helpful people. Throughout the 4 night vacation in Porto, we started having so much boa sorte (good luck) we found ourselves often giving each other a usually discreet high-five whenever something good happened. Only at some times did we find ourselves giving a foot-five if we didn't want people to see us secretly celebrating our good fortune. I forget, but it may have been when we found the beautifully fine-pebbled beach in the hot sun when I told Nicole it might need a "four-membered high-five."
Our first full day, we rode the bus to downtown. Despite Nicole's embarrassment of me trying to take out the map occasionally and my camera constantly, I was able to take many pictures. Every few steps, a new building would come into view. I decided that looking like a tourist wasn't too hard when we were both blond-haired and blue-eyed. (We didn't meet another American the entire trip) Around 10 hours of walking allowed us to shop along Rua de Santa Cantarina, view lots of statues and VERY old architecture, and see the Douro River from above the Dom Luis Bridge built in the 1880's. We decided from atop the bridge that we wanted to go down below to see the river up close. I'm very glad we did.
To sit below the bridge on the cement ledge next to the water was a great way to give our feet some rest. We were watching local children jump off stairs into the water while listening to their quick Portuguese words as they teased each other playfully between loud laughter. The sun melted the sunscreen on my cheeks as I soaked in the warmth. Boats with old barrels for carrying Port wine slapped at the water while tugging at their anchors. Along the river held homes, businesses, and abandoned buildings which were built using the natural rock as part of the foundation.
On some buildings, colorful tiles of aqua green, orange, or blue-and-white Delftware covered the outside walls. In a city that originated during the 4th century or possibly earlier, most of the churches, forts, and structures were older than anything I had ever known. We decided to check out the boat tours to be able to travel up and down the river to see the city from a different view.
The next day, we visited a beach near the mouth of the river where the sand was very small rocks. Nicole said she didn't realize she could actually like a sand. When it didn't stick to skin, it was unique, and comfortable to walk on, she liked it.
Since we didn't know where to go for food and often ate dinner much to late after lounging in our room to recover from walking, we didn't find the best places to eat. I know Portugal must have some good food. People suggested trying the Bacalhau at certain restaurants but then we struggled with transportation at times and often got to hungry and settled for mediocre places. However, we were offered a discount price on breakfast buffets so every morning we ate very good Portuguese food.
Most of all, I'd like to mention the people. They were welcoming, open, genuine, and friendly. Anytime we needed a picture taken of us or directions, they were happy to help. I felt that Porto knew that life was worth living with lots of humor, time to relax, and take relationships with family and friends seriously. My first impression of the people in Portugal was when I would take a picture in the city and traffic stopped so I could get a good shot of the building and then the drivers would cheerfully drive on. Later on, I noticed how the men would very subtly take care of the women by offering a seat on the bus to help us avoid standing next to a bum. Or locals would describe Porto with such passion for its history and beauty and then bid us adeus with kisses on both cheeks and a contagious smile. Porto is definitely a special city. One I would gladly visit again. Soon, please?
Since Nate was able to drop us off before he headed to work, we were there plenty early. Our plane ended up being many hours late because of a French air strike, but luckily our layover in Madrid was lengthy so we had no issues. Our Portuguese flight attendant stated with his thick accent, "Our flight will be two hours and 25 minutes. We will be arriving much later than scheduled due to thee- uh, Frrrrench. (2 second pause) Air strike."
This reminds me that in our travels, we have realized that some countries have issues with their close neighbors and may slip out racial slurs or comments at times. For example, when we had been at a castle souvenir shop a man walked up to the counter with an information booklet and asked, "Excuse me, do you have this in French?"
The cashier pursed his lips and stated with sarcasm, "We are not a library."
The Frenchman went on, "You have it in Russian, you have it in Croatian, you have it in many languages, but not French?"
The cashier only looked at him silently.
It's interesting to see lasting attitudes from either politics or maybe immigration patterns?
When we arrived in Portugal, Nicole and I lucked out with most things-- information, transportation, beautiful 5 star hotel, and friendly/helpful people. Throughout the 4 night vacation in Porto, we started having so much boa sorte (good luck) we found ourselves often giving each other a usually discreet high-five whenever something good happened. Only at some times did we find ourselves giving a foot-five if we didn't want people to see us secretly celebrating our good fortune. I forget, but it may have been when we found the beautifully fine-pebbled beach in the hot sun when I told Nicole it might need a "four-membered high-five."
Our first full day, we rode the bus to downtown. Despite Nicole's embarrassment of me trying to take out the map occasionally and my camera constantly, I was able to take many pictures. Every few steps, a new building would come into view. I decided that looking like a tourist wasn't too hard when we were both blond-haired and blue-eyed. (We didn't meet another American the entire trip) Around 10 hours of walking allowed us to shop along Rua de Santa Cantarina, view lots of statues and VERY old architecture, and see the Douro River from above the Dom Luis Bridge built in the 1880's. We decided from atop the bridge that we wanted to go down below to see the river up close. I'm very glad we did.
To sit below the bridge on the cement ledge next to the water was a great way to give our feet some rest. We were watching local children jump off stairs into the water while listening to their quick Portuguese words as they teased each other playfully between loud laughter. The sun melted the sunscreen on my cheeks as I soaked in the warmth. Boats with old barrels for carrying Port wine slapped at the water while tugging at their anchors. Along the river held homes, businesses, and abandoned buildings which were built using the natural rock as part of the foundation.
On some buildings, colorful tiles of aqua green, orange, or blue-and-white Delftware covered the outside walls. In a city that originated during the 4th century or possibly earlier, most of the churches, forts, and structures were older than anything I had ever known. We decided to check out the boat tours to be able to travel up and down the river to see the city from a different view.
The next day, we visited a beach near the mouth of the river where the sand was very small rocks. Nicole said she didn't realize she could actually like a sand. When it didn't stick to skin, it was unique, and comfortable to walk on, she liked it.
Since we didn't know where to go for food and often ate dinner much to late after lounging in our room to recover from walking, we didn't find the best places to eat. I know Portugal must have some good food. People suggested trying the Bacalhau at certain restaurants but then we struggled with transportation at times and often got to hungry and settled for mediocre places. However, we were offered a discount price on breakfast buffets so every morning we ate very good Portuguese food.
Most of all, I'd like to mention the people. They were welcoming, open, genuine, and friendly. Anytime we needed a picture taken of us or directions, they were happy to help. I felt that Porto knew that life was worth living with lots of humor, time to relax, and take relationships with family and friends seriously. My first impression of the people in Portugal was when I would take a picture in the city and traffic stopped so I could get a good shot of the building and then the drivers would cheerfully drive on. Later on, I noticed how the men would very subtly take care of the women by offering a seat on the bus to help us avoid standing next to a bum. Or locals would describe Porto with such passion for its history and beauty and then bid us adeus with kisses on both cheeks and a contagious smile. Porto is definitely a special city. One I would gladly visit again. Soon, please?
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