Decisions, decisions

I can’t make them! So many plans, so little action.

For the last couple of weeks there has been the Ibiza plan. Go and live there for the end of the clubbing season. But I’ve not put much effort into finding a place. I could have just jumped on a train, Porto – Coimbra – Madrid – Valencia, then ferry and sorted out a bed and internet once there.

Now there is a cycling plan. Rich and Jake are coming over to Portugal in October for some cycle-touring. I’m horrendously unfit and don’t like cycling anyway. Right? Despite that I’m thinking I could fly to the UK, cycle down to Portsmouth, ferry to Bilbao and ride back to Porto. Then I’d be in shape to join the other two. All the while I’d need to work. Maybe ride for three hours in the morning. Do a day’s work then ride for another hour. How will I work? I’m assuming decent mobile internet coverage combined with a good solar charger to run my laptop.

Of course there is the campervan plan! Really not sure how to proceed on that one. If the past is anything to go by I’ll end up making a rash decision and buying the wrong thing. People actually buy these things so there must be a way through this problem!

Staying in Porto a while could be a plan too. There is no particular rush to go anywhere. Some sort of a life is developing. Slowly I’m learning the language and have now joined a weekly group. There is a three month course starting soon too. After Portuguese, Spanish is easy. That opens up the whole of Latin America for adventure.

The trance plan needs some work too. I love electronic music and trance in particular. I want to spend time in cool clubs and bars where I like the music. Porto seems to lack this scene. Hence thinking of Ibiza and wondering where else I might get this. Is it a strong enough reason to move on from Porto? Should I just park the idea for a number of months and see how this phase develops?

Before language practice yesterday I had a coffee in the Capitólio. António was telling me he is going to let his house for 500€/month. It has four bedrooms and a huge terrace. I’m paying that for one bedroom at the moment! That could be interesting. Friends and family could come and stay. CouchSurfers too. If I was ruthless and money oriented I could airbnb the spare rooms!

As ever there is the gym plan. I’ve been in and out of the gym since I was a teenager. It was all ineffective until 2010 when I trained with Chris in Bath. Pound (Sterling) per pound (of lean mass gain) it was a horrifically expensive endeavour (gym fees, £30/hour for Chris three times a week and a huge food shopping bill). But I put on 14kg-ish of mostly lean mass in two months. Annoyingly it didn’t get me a girl. Then I stopped, got fat and eventually trained with Chris again. Then I stopped…….and trained with Mark in Stranraer. Then I stopped! Now I’m out of shape and fat and thinking of having one more go. Jorge at Fitness Hut will do me 8 weeks membership for 67€.

Maybe it’s fine to do none of the above? I really don’t know!

Big fearty

Noises at night in the dark always sound sinister. Last night I heard a loud ‘bang!’ that sounded like it was inside the flat. Following that I heard what sounded like someone fiddling with the lock to the flat door. I decided to ignore it and pretend it wasn’t happening. I’ve heard noises from other flats that sound like they are in this one so it was probably just that.

However this noise didn’t stop. Straining to listen I could definitely hear someone fiddling with the lock. All sorts of scenarios went through my head. To my shame the first thing I thought to do was ignore it and hope for the best. Next option was to challenge the intruder naked in the hope that the shock would send them fleeing. Eventually I decided I was being stupid, got up, decided on semi-naked and went to the door.

It turns out it was the little old drunk man from two floors up. I opened the door. His eyes widened in shock and he said “desculpe!” (sorry). I asked if he was ok (in Portuguese, French and Italian). He claimed to be so. Through the peep hole I watched him shuffle back to the lift.

After a few moments I went up to 87 and it seems he at least managed to get into his apartment.

PS. The loud bang may have been something that is probably going to cost me a fortune to get repaired.

Bring back the ‘tache

The beard is off again. I’m not sure it does me any favours (with the ladies). However I couldn’t quite bring myself to remove the whole thing. Once, in the middle of Namibia, I went for a haircut and shave in a tin shack. At first the guy left my moustache intact. To my surprise I quite liked it. Figuring I wouldn’t get away with it I asked him to remove it. Today, I’m trying the look again.

Entirely coincidentally I was having a coffee at Moustache!

Breiner House

I went to Bruno’s place at 1am on Thursday night. We were going clubbing in town so no need to rush! The house he lives in is apparently a bit of an international institution. I assumed he had an apartment in the old place but that’s not the case. The house is still whole with twenty-five rooms. There is a bit of squat/commune vibe going on with a multinational group of inhabitants. One time an Afghan guy broke in and stayed in a room for three weeks. Everyone just assumed he lived there!

We had a couple of beers and at 2.30am we headed into town. As I said, no rush.

We first tried More Club but Bruno and Ricardo weren’t impressed with the tourist talent so we moved on to Plan B. For a lot of the night the music was pretty good so I danced (and sweated) a lot. Inevitably I got into my bar visit rythym and ended up chain drinking bottles of Heineken.

The lights came on around 6am and we left. By the time I walked back to the flat and climbed into bed it was about 7.30am.

I managed a few hours of sleep and decided just before 11am that I better get up and do a day’s work.

Next time I’m invited to Breiner I’ll ask for the guided tour.

Infinity pool

Only me and Edo signed up for today’s meetup at the Piscina das Marés. An outdoor pool right on the beach and built into the rocks. I’m not a huge fan of longing at the beach but, from the pictures, it looked an interesting place to visit. With the heat today,

cooling off by the seaside seemed like a very good idea!

On entering the architecture is pretty stark. Reminiscent of a prison camp or a bunker. However when you emerge the pool itself looks pretty cool.

Normally I try to do a length underwater but my lungs weren’t up to it today. After some time in the pool we found a good spot, put our towels down and did some bronzing. For half-an-hour or so it’s quite relaxing. I don’t know how people can do it all day though.

We had an unremarkable lunch in the cafe then walked to get the bus back to Porto.

On a whim we jumped off at a bar I’d always fancied visiting. Nothing quite like a cool beer on a baking day.

Saúde!

Inevitably one beer is never enough. We poked our heads into a few more places but none looked lively enough. Eventually we wandered down to the river-side and sat at a little local cafe.

Some beer snacks, battered sardines eaten whole, and a couple of Super Bocks went down very nicely.

A thirst was building! Fortunately Edo was flagging and wanted to go home for a nap. Proceedings were halted before any repeat of the Six Bottles of Vinho Verde could occur.

Now I’m at home and in a quandary – go out tonight or not…

 

My French sucks

It’s quite humbling meeting all these international people. My French is ok. Roughly conversational I usually say. However when talking to António I noticed that I really had to concentrate. I can’t have a free and easy conversation in French.

The number of languages spoken by the people I’ve met recently is usually three or more. Combinations such as Italian, Portuguese, English and Swedish. All spoken (more or less) fluently!

My Portuguese has barely progressed. Learning by osmosis is probably a lot slower than I’d hoped. A girl on the hike at weekend said she’d been in Portugal for six months and suddenly started being able to speak the language.

Working from home doesn’t help. Speaking English in the company I meet doesn’t help either. The biggest barrier is probably my laziness though. I like the idea of being fluent in another language but I have to remind myself that I did a lot of studying to learn French. Hours spent memorising vocabulary and verb endings. All that effort to be barely conversational and unable to read a French newspaper!

Meetups

Meetup 2. – found a flat

Meetup 4. – found a gym buddy

There might just be an outcome from number 3 but I reckon I’m fantasising wildy!

All I need now is a further meetup to yield a campervan and I’m done.

Sex finger

Eleven of us met today to go hiking near Valongo. I felt like I was breaking my “not doing stuff I don’t actually enjoy rule” but it was a chance to meet more people and it sounded like more of a walk than a hike. It wouldn’t be a repeat of Christmas when, after ten steps up the hill, I was totally knackered and still had two days of hiking with several summits to go!

We followed a trail along a pretty valley.

Next time we are going to find a place to swim in the river. It was hot today and the water looked very inviting.

After an hour or so of walking we came to a cluster of homes nestled in the valley. This was half-way and lunchtime.

The guy on the left is Edo. He organises these events.

There is a very nice shady picnic spot. We moved a couple of tables together and sat and had a leisurely lunch.

We had a little guest join us.

During conversation Edo was joking about the inbred people in the valley. The place was very ‘Deliverance’ and I asked if anyone had seen it. I mentioned the six-fingered banjo player and held up six fingers to make my point. There was a bit of silence. Edo said, “what is sex finger?”. Everyone thought I was talking about my ‘sex finger’ and wondered what on earth I was on about. Unfortunately it’s one of those things that might stick. I really hope I don’t become known as Sex Finger.

We took the trail back and had to march for that last ten minutes to make the 5.30. Louisa and I were headed the same way so I accompanied her on the metro. She lives above a supermarket near me. It was open but I was too tired. Two hours hiking doesn’t sound much but in the midday heat it had worn everyone out.

Instead of shopping I treated myself to half a grilled chicken and garlicky buttered potatoes from the local churrasqueira. Utterly delicious!

 

 

 

Not the Golden Arches

Googling told me there is a campervan place near a village called Vila do Conde. I’d read this was a place worth a visit. It’s 27km north of Porto and can be easily reached on the metro.

The first thing you notice on getting off the train is the aqueduct.

The arches recede off into the distance. Reputedly there were 999 of them over a length of 5km. A few sections have fallen but lots of it remains intact. It points the way into town.

At the end of the path you come to the imposing convent with excellent views over the town and the river.

A narrow and steep little street takes you down into the Praça da Liberdade and a view looking back up to the convent.

At the far end of the square I went to a restaurant where they were grilling the food outside. I thought I ordered mackerel but I’m not sure what fish I ended up with. It didn’t look like any mackerel I’d ever eaten. Nonetheless it was quite tasty and went nicely with my jarro of vinho verde.

The beach is a 15 minute walk from this part of town but, as I was late on the go, I didn’t have time to go and take a look. I still had to find the van place and be back in Porto to meet some people at 7.

A few stops south I hopped off the train and walked to the industrial estate. I only knew the road name for the camper place but I reckoned it’d be pretty obvious. By the end of Rua 5 I’d not found anything. Just a lot of warehouses selling cheap Chinese imports. I wandered some more incase I’d misremembered the road name. Nothing. A little disappointed I got the train back to Porto.

A quick beard trim and shower and back out the door. Some Meet Up evening drinks had been arranged. A Spaniard, a Swede, a Pole, a Portuguese, a South Korean and a Scotsman! We went for tapas in a cosy place. Jun, the Korean guy, was on the big beers so I decided to join him. A couple went down very nicely. Uh oh.

After dinner we went to the trendy bars. Jun got us a round of shots. Uh oh. In the next place we managed to get a seat outside where we could watch the party crowd go by. It was after midnight but things were only getting started. Some good beats were being played and a couple of beers went down a treat.

The temptation to stay out was strong but Jun had to study, Agnieszka had a big translation job to finish and I’d been roped into hiking in the morning. I was home in bed by 2am. When Agnieszka comes back from Poland though we’ve resolved to have a proper night out. Start at midnight and finish at 8am.