Porto

It’s a long car drive today. We say goodbye to Jess, have a quick Pastel and espresso stop and hit the road. It’s been incredible in Ericeira, but it’s exciting to move on and towards the Camino. In the car with Cait and Mattea - who is going to be running the first few days of the Camino with another friend, we head off to Porto.

We stop on the way to meet Cait’s colleague Bianca - who of those strange remote working relationships, where you can know someone so well, know their face so well on a video call, but never have met them in person.

We meet in a mountainous area with a quaint old stone village. Winding cobblestone streets with small houses and even smaller doors. Ancient rooves and rotting wood, but as charming as could be. We stroll around and take it all in.

Then we head over to a river at the bottom of the valley. Cool fresh water is welcome in the sweltering heat. It’s easy going with Bianca and her partner Jason (although I wouldn’t want to spend a weekend with him). Another espresso and some stone skimming is on the cards.

Back in the car. Both Cait and Mattea fall asleep and the highway meanders on. Great roads in Portugal, great bridges too. It’s Friday afternoon and as we get closer to the city the traffic intensifies. It’s mostly fine, barring some chaotic driving from some.

After winding our way through the city we find the Airbnb that Cait’s dad Luis has booked us - thank you so much if you’re reading this, it’s perfect. Drop bags, drop Cait to finish the final project work (yay). I drop Mattea at her place and then head off to the airport to drop the car. This drive is less than fun in the rush hour traffic. Bless traffic circles, I miss the exit but just keep going around and nail it on the second attempt.

The car rental drop off is painless. They order me a taxi to get back and I lose a few games of 1|1 bullet chess. Now comes the hectic part of the day. I get picked up by a middle aged local taxi driver in a pretty fancy Mercedes - the car eases my nerves as the Germans build them safe. As we leave the airport he honestly floors it in roads that are more congested than before. I’m in a mixture of shock, horror and deep respect for the way that he somehow sped through bumper to bumper traffic. We must have been a millimeter away from so many accidents.

No seatbelt, trashy music blearing and my palms are sweaty. We continue to push cars, cyclists and pedestrians out the way - or maybe they were just saving themselves. His obvlivian to the chaos that we was causing was quite admirable actually (I mean not really, but his ignorance was through the roof).

Finally we reach the city center and I lie that I’ve only got a certain amount of cash on me so I’m going to have to walk the last few kilometers. A relief to be out the car. Ironically he then gets completely stuck in traffic and I walk off, leaving him in my dust. HA.

I grab us some take aways from a restaurant down the road and get Cait a tub of Ben and Jerry’s - which she has been talking of inccentently for the last few weeks - which is ice cream for those in the dark. We have a cute dinner at the apartment with the sounds of a busker with the voice of Amy Winehouse meets Tones and I.

Looking over the quaint little street that we’re on and feeling very much at peace. I’ve finished Moral Ambition (great read, feeling really excited to work again one day), starting Paulo Coelho’s “The Pilgramage” on a recommendation by someone who tried to hire me last month. After the first chapter I can see that it’s going to be the perfect book for this adventure, this chapter of our lives and this moment in time.

Cait has had to put in another big night of work - but the end is near. She gets a little sleep and we wake up to the sounds of life on the streets. After a rushed pack up, with the cleaners of the Airbnb outside we drop our bags at a luggage storage place and head off for a walk.

Crossing the river we edge down the side and stumble upon a group of maybe six year olds performing a choreographed (mostly) dance to “Timber”, as the song finishes they all rush off to hug their parents. Unbelievably cute.

We have a breakfast smoothie on the banks of the river and then wonder off to find Mattea and get our Pilgrim passports. We walk right into her almost by accident and head off to the cathedral. It’s hot - we have an espresso, Mattea mixes hers with tonic water; interesting but good, apparently it’s common out here.

We stand in the line to get our Pilgrim passports, the line manages to lure you into a false sense of security as there are so many twists and turns around corners; so you can never tell how much further it is to go. We get them along with the all important scallop shell.

Upon leaving the cathedral we receive our first “Bom Camino” of the journey. Cait heads off to a coffee shop to work and Mattea and I head off to the Mecca of outdoor gear: Decathlon.

It’s a beautiful walk through the city. Porto truly is charming, quaint and beautiful. Narrow winding streets, towering buildings either side. Tile facades with delicate patterns. The hanging washing might be my favorite: an almost forbidden glimpse of intermancy into the otherwise lifeless windows.

Decathlon is amazing. I buy some creatine (to prevent wasting away on pastries) and a monocle - something that I’ve always wanted. I think that a monocle lends itself to the kind of holiday that I want to have. As a visual person, I want to look. I don’t really need to take photos, although I’ve been making an effort to. But I have this romantic vision of sitting somewhere, staring through it and see what would otherwise be obscured. Like a true Portuguese explorer with their telescope. Either that or it’s going to be a silly tringket that lug around Europe for the next three and a bit weeks.

We walk back along the river, stop for a beer and a toasted sandwich (white bread, cheese and ham - wasting away). Then link up with Cait and check into the Airbnb. Order some food and I start vaguely watching the Western States race; but truth be told trail running is a very boring sport to watch.