marksabout

As I dashed out the door trying to avoid issues with my flight, I had the brainwave of grabbing my spray jacket. I was soon to find out that the rain in Spain falls mainly in… Portugal. My flight was from Barcelona to Oporto but I was to stay that night in Lisbon, though having arrived fairly early, I had the morning to kill in Oporto. I negotiated the Metro, bypassing the centre of town to head straight to the Port (wine) caves (which are one metro stop from the city). I had to find some lunch before checking out the Port (wine), often a tricky exercise in touristland… I chose the most popular area (!) along the river and walked the length looking for a restaurant. Finally satisfied with the one the appeared to be full of locals, I tried to ask if I could sit on one of the vacant tables outside. Instead I was lead to the back corner of the restaurant to a seat in which I’d have to move every time someone needed to use the bathroom. I said (in Spanish ‘cos my brian’s second language section only has one channel) that I’d prefer to sit outside, but that wasn’t possible… It was a table of 8, after all. Ok, I get it, but it was clearly about to rain! Instead I went to another restaurant.

Crossing the bridge to (Port) Wine town

And here's one of me.

I dunno if that was a bad move? I chose the next best looking restaurant (the one with local looking types = dark hair and eyes), ordered a Francesinha and, moments later arrived a tour group of English retirees:

Wife: “Look at what he’s (me) having, Alf, I think that’s the fransheena.”

Husband: “Yeah but he’s (me) got the egg, it looks disgusting.”

Ferral looking, but super satisfying Francesinha.

W: “Should we see if they’ve got a ham and cheese toastie?”

H: “Ummmmmm, Maybe?”

W: “Hmmm, I had a ham and cheese toastie yesterday, let’s be adventurous”

… There couldn’t be anything more English than the Francesinha of Oporto… It’s a sandwich (white bread, no crusts) filled with all manner of meat: a minute (reference to time, not size) steak, two kinds of sausage, ham… Covered in melted cheese covered in a beer and tomato sauce. You can accompany it with chips (swimming in the sauce) and upsize with an egg on top. No?

Ham and cheese toastie + steak, sausage, cheese and beer gravy ≠ adventurous. Does it? I won’t judge. I was just listening in ‘cos they were talking about ME(!) Well, my meal…

Anyways, I paid up and waddled, the Francesinha is FILLLLLING especially with an egg and chips, up to the Port (wine) caves after lunch. Oddly, to me at least, all the wine companies had English names. After a very enjoyable (I like Port) tasting, I asked why? The answer: the English, having no wine of their own, set up shop in Oporto. Simple. In retrospect, fortified wine does seem to be a peculiarly English thing.

Finishing off the last drop of a Taylors 2007 Vintage. Oh my GAWWWD! Yum!

As it was time to make my way to the station to catch the train to Lisbon, the rain started. At least I had thought of my spray jacket earlier that morning.

Oh yeah, at the bookshop in the main train station in Oporto there was a huge poster with a (stock) photo of a CityRail (Sydney) train!

And I landed in Lisbon later that night.

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