Getting from Porto to Portimão by Train, Plane, Bus, and Car

 

As I indicated by the title of my last post, I decided to get out of Porto after two weeks.  It was chilly and rainy half the time and I just didn’t want to be there anymore. 

Though I do appreciate that even this ancient city offers a chance for the residents to touch grass.  This park area is located atop the Trinidade Metro station.  I love that a space that is usually unused has been turned into a simple way to access a park for anyone who needs it.

A travel day had again arrived.  I knew from the start that it would be bad.  I had no idea …

The first part was relatively easy.  That Metro station pictured above?  It’s literally 5 minutes away from the apartment. It was a quick downhill walk to the station where I boarded a train that took me directly to the airport.  So far so good.

I had arrived quite early for check-in so some waiting was involved.  I was anxious about it only because RyanAir, a new airline for me, required you to check in online for your boarding pass.  When I tried to do this from the apartment, the website wanted even more money from me (more on that later).  I couldn’t confirm my credit card because my phone is on a sim card that can’t receive text messages.  This has been an on-going problem on my travels and a never-ending pain in the butt.

When check-in finally opened, the lady asked to see my phone after I’d told her my issue.   She was able to quickly bring up my boarding pass and could take my payment at the counter.  Now, the website had warned that checking in at the desk within doing it online first would result in a 55 euro fee.  I was prepared to pay it since I was already frustrated and just wanted to get this over with.  Turns out though that since my big bag was 5 kg overweight, I was charged 73 euros for the overage.

That sucked.  But at least I got through check-in without being charged the extra 55 so not as bad as it could be, right?

Nope.

I ended up paying for my luggage not once, not twice, but three times!  First, when I bought the ticket (on Expedia’s website), second at the counter (most airlines allow 22-25 kg while RyanAir only allows 20 kg), and third when my little bag didn’t fit their size requirements.  That bag has NEVER been an issue anywhere else.  But since RyanAir wants all your money, suddenly the bag is too big.

The baggage fees ended up costing more than the ticket! 

Then, after paying that last surprise fee of ANOTHER 75 euros, boarding took forever.  This left me standing around to stew in the rage of being robbed as if I hadn’t waited around enough already.  We had to cross the tarmac to get to the plane and Porto decided to give me a last parting gift. The already foggy day turned into a light drizzle.

Do I need to explain how heated I was?  It’s a one-hour, in-country flight and it caused more stress than an international flight!  And almost cost as much!  What sense does that make?

Needless to say, I will never use that airline again.  The only reason I chose it this time is because the flight would get me to Faro before 5 p.m.  This meant that I could catch a shuttle or a bus as opposed to a cab ride.  My first time to the city, I took a cab not realizing that it would cost 100 euros.  The second time, I got in too late to get anything but a cab.  I knew from bitter, expensive experience that I didn’t want to do that again so I chose the first flight that would save me that cost.

Of course, I just ended up paying anyway thanks to the airline.

Sigh.

But I was grateful to land safely back in the Algarve.  I figure if I’m going to spend an exorbitant amount of money to remain in Portugal, I’d rather do it in Portimão than Porto. 

Still not there yet though.  I wasn’t sure whether to take any of the shuttle services offered at the airport or take the bus.  There are numerous stands and signs for either option, so I wasn’t sure how to proceed.  I eventually found a couple of machines that sell tickets.  I found the bus that would take me to the city and paid by card.

I’d much rather pay 14 euro for a 2-hour ride than 100 euros for a 1-hour direct trip by taxi.  Granted, the bus did require yet another wait.

At least I could feel the sun on my face during the wait.  There’s nothing like the sun in the south of Portugal.

The bus finally arrived and we were off.  It wasn’t the most comfortable trip as the seats were not designed for my long legs, but it went by fast enough.  Then I had to figure out how to get to my new home for the week once I was dumped at the bus station.

As there were no cabs around (strange), Uber became my only option.  The distance from the station to the apartment was a short one but still wasn’t feasible to walk.  It was getting dark, I was tired, didn’t know where I was going and couldn’t fathom dragging all my crap across uneven Portuguese sidewalks.

Turns out I did know the building as it was close to the other apartments I stayed in.  I just didn’t recognize the back streets we took to get there.  That made getting my bearings the next day so much easier.   

I do not like studios.  I don’t like corner showers.  I don’t like the fact that I managed to get into the building and up to the 8^th floor only to realize that I was in the wrong building.  Sigh.  I hauled all my crap back downstairs and around to Building B before finally entering the apartment.

Not my preferences for accommodation, but still clean and decent enough for the week.  And again, I was back in Portimão.  If I can’t get to the outrageously expensive Funchal, this place will more than fit the bill.

The morning after my arrival, I went to the Hollywood themed restaurant on the boardwalk that I’ve frequented before.  The Ukrainian manager (still haven’t caught that guy’s name – I’ll have to fix that) instantly recognized me.  He high-fived me, welcomed me back, and preceded to spoil me during the entire meal. 

I love that!

Moral of the story: Portimão is still awesome and RyanAir can kick rocks.

My Last Week in Porto

 

I was not sad to leave that place in Porto.  I’d gotten used to couch-sleeping despite the couch being too short for my long legs.  The problem arose during the last few nights when – you guessed it – the bugs found me.

The host had shown me the two open skylight windows upstairs and instructed me on how to close them.  That seemed to be a hassle though, so I left them open.  With no screens.

So, yes, the mosquitos got me.  Please note I was still dealing with the bee sting on my leg.  After the first sting on my chest, I knew the area would be swollen and itchy for a while with no major consequences.  But a sting on the ankle turned out to be a different animal.

My foot swelled to ludicrous proportions, was painful to walk on, and was dry and itchy (my winter skin has also arrived).  I’ll spare you the picture of my horribly swollen bee foot.  Just know that it is awful and doesn’t want to go away.  Instead, here’s a puppy!

                                                            Photo by Bill Stephan on Unsplash

I swear, the bees of Albania must be Africanized.  They saw some dark skin and it reminded them of home, so they just had to sting me.

Thanks for that.

                                                                            ******

The day arrived for my departure and there just had to be issues.  The first Uber driver I called reached me on time, spoke only Portuguese as he gestured at my bags, then drove off.  Huh?  Presumably, he didn’t have room in his car for my mammoth suitcase, but since this had never happened to me before, I didn’t know what to do.  I tried to cancel the ride.  Nope.  Tried to call for a new one.  Nope.

So instead, I hauled all my junk to the main road thinking I’d grab a cab.  Then my phone started beeping to alert me that my driver was on the way.  What are you talking about?  He just left me stranded.

Turns out Uber was alerting to a new driver who expected me to be in front of the apartment.  I was already several feet away.  After texting him, he canceled the ride, allowing me to call for him again as I made my way back to the apartment.

Yeesh.

Got to the new place and he dropped me off.  On the wrong side of the street.  More confusion ensued as I had to get across the street to the right building.  Grab the key from the lockbox, up the stairs, into the elevator and to the 5^th floor.

After all that, the new place turned out to be decent enough.  Another too short couch, but at least this time the bed was surprisingly comfortable. 

The place feels like it’s made out of cardboard and is very echo-y because of it.  It took me a while to figure out which cabinets had to be pulled open and which ones were pressure based.  Even when I realized I had to push a door to get it open, it was still difficult to learn where to push it.  It took me forever to get to the washing machine.

I was not happy to see that there was no microwave when I thought I saw one listed in the ad.  Imagine my surprise when I opened the oven and found this.

I have never seen this setup before.  There were no manuals in the house and a bunch of strange symbols on the dials that I just didn’t understand.  While the oven gets warm like it should, the plate rotates like a microwave.  The timers are set to 15 minutes, which got the food cooked faster, but I’m still not a fan. 

Technology marches on, but sometimes it really shouldn’t.

Goodbye Tirana

 

Well.  I was getting a little too comfortable in Albania.  Time to upend my life again.

I ended up staying in the last place for over two months because I didn’t feel like moving.  My initial plan was to the head to the coast for a few weeks, either Saranda or Durres but I never got there.  I was good in Tirana, so I stayed.  Even once the hot water heater died a week before my departure, I was still comfortable.  Stinky by the end of my stay from trying to take cold showers, but comfortable.

I did try to get the heater fixed as soon as it broke, but no go.  August is vacation month for many countries in Europe, including Albania.  The host was very responsive so I believe him when he said he couldn’t find anyone to fix it. 

For that reason alone, I was ready to return to Portugal on the ticket I’d bought months earlier.  I just wanted a hot shower and looked forward to getting one once I made it to Lisbon.

The travel day ended up being more trying than I would have liked.  After a nice breakfast at one of my favorite restaurants, I grabbed a cab and bid farewell to Tirana.  Checking in at the airport was fine enough, but the flight was late for some reason.  No worries for me though as I had a 3-hour layover in Germany.

I took a seat at a café to wait for my gate to be called when I felt something land on my arm.  I swatted it away and realized it was a bee.

I was inside the airport!  With hundreds of other people!  I didn’t even have any food and that bee came looking for me!

And, yeah, it came back around and stung me on the back of my right ankle.

Are you SH!TTING me? 

A bee stung me (for the very first time in my life) on my first day in the city (Welcome to Tirana!) and now, just as I’m leaving, another bee gets me (Thanks for staying!).

What the HELL!?!

Seriously, why do I keep attracting the bugs?  Is there some way I can stop doing that?  I don’t actually enjoy being swollen and itchy.  Add that pain to being underhydrated, overstimulated, and overtired on my travel day and … yeah.  A lot of bad things overdone.

Prices in Portugal are insane everywhere right now.  I looked at my usual haunts as well as other places like Sintra, Aveiro, Ericeira, and Coimbra with no luck.  Funchal is still overpriced in general while the Algarve is on summer pricing for another month or so.  Airbnbs in Lisbon are priced cheaper compared to Portimão -- and Lisbon is not cheap.  So, to Porto I go.

I love Portugal.  That is not a surprise to anyone familiar with this blog.  But Tap Portugal, the national airline, may be my new enemy.

While I love their beautiful safety video on their long-haul flights, checking in at Lisbon Airport was a nightmare.  The line was insanely long just to get to the automated check-in.  Then when I tried to check my bag, it was rejected TWICE for being too heavy (this hasn’t been an issue for a while now). I had to keep pulling stuff out all while worrying about catching my flight.

I finally appeased the weight machine and sprinted for security.  The line wasn’t too bad but getting both of my repacked bags stopped as well as myself(?) just further stressed me out. There was nothing on me and after asking about my foot massager (a non-powered, spikey plastic object – how was that a weapon?), I was dismissed without a word while the guy switched shifts.

Thanks.  That was an essential waste of my time.

Not enough time for me to fume in impotent rage, though, as I sprinted for the gate.  The flight was already boarding, but at least I didn’t miss it.

All that rushing in the morning just led to a long wait once I arrived at Porto Airport.  My new home wasn’t cleaned yet and the host texted to tell me that I couldn’t check in until after 2:30. I had plenty of time to get some cash, a new sim card, eat, and relax.  To a point.

I’d found a nice place to sit outside beside a pool full of ducks.  I’m sitting there, enjoying the sunny day when some deranged man stopped in front of me and started ranting in French.  I told him I didn’t speak Portuguese, hoping he’d be confused enough to leave, but it didn’t work. I tried to ignore him as much as possible until eventually he walked off to rant at someone else.

Each interaction with men reminds me that a majority of them are not well.  I really wish they would keep their unwellness away from me. 

Soon after that, I grabbed a cab and got to the apartment.  The host met me at the door and showed me around. 

The reason I chose the place was because it was the cheapest I could find.  There are some reasons for that price. The place has the distinct smell of mold (I knew it was a bad sign when there was a candle burning on the island). 

 

These stairs are of the devil.

This bed, I would quickly find out that first night, is a medieval torture device.

And I quickly decided to spend the rest of my stay sleeping on the only-slightly-less-uncomfortable couch.

As for Porto … it was never my favorite city in Portugal.  As I walked (and walked and walked) to the Metro on the way to the Douro that first day after getting settled in, I had a thought.

Uh oh.  I think Tirana spoiled me.  It was 20 degrees warmer there (mid 80’s as opposed to high 60’s), YouTube didn’t have commercials (that was sooooo nice), and I’d gotten very accustomed to having everything being 5 minutes away from my apartment.  Porto, while still convenient, makes you work a bit harder than Tirana.  And it costs more.

Why, by all that is green and holy, is PORTUGAL making me miss Albania?

What world am I living in?