Too Many Planes, Too Many Airports

 

Yeah.  I knew that time was coming again.

You would think that I wouldn’t want to go through the separation anxiety of leaving Portugal ever again, so I just wouldn’t keep coming back.   But I’m not that bright.  Can’t stay away from the country, have yet to secure a bag to remain, so … gotta leave again.

This sucks.  Hard.

I was very happy in my pink palace in Portimão.  I didn’t do anything terribly exciting, hence not posting to this blog in a month.  I worked on my online store, tried to get some of my other writing done, and basically chilled.  Total all, I had two glorious months of not having to get on a plane, two months of regular walks along a gorgeous beach, two months of not having to plan my next moves.  It was lovely.

And did I mention that the hosts sent their cleaning lady, a nice woman from Brazil, to clean the place twice during my stay?  Can I tell you how much I loved that?  I’ve never hired a maid in my life, but I might have to consider it the occasional special treat once I find my new place.

That last week or so was a bit on the taxing side, emotionally.  Not only was it the stress of leaving my most recent comfy home, but I came to the harsh realization that two years out of work has done a serious number on my bank account.  There is still no hope on the job front.  Just news of more layoffs and the confirmation that ageism is alive and well in this horrible job market.  My online shop has been open for a couple of months with zero sales.  I’ve gotten plenty of phishing emails and people looking to scrape more money out of my pocket in consultancy fees, but that’s about it.  It’s all been very demoralizing.

Adding to that stress, I was faced with yet another trip across the pond.  More fun.  I figured one last trip to the U.S. before January and the return of the orange regime. 

It’s just gonna get worse, people.

Anyway, there was nothing I could do about leaving Portugal as my Schengen days were coming to an end.  Sadly, I packed up and prepared to leave. Remembering that horribly expensive taxi ride into the city, I took a far cheaper Uber back to Faro Airport (more about the stupid expense of taxis in a later post). After one of the longest ½ hour flights I have ever had (why are children … children?), I was back to the VIP Executive Picoas in Lisbon.  I do love that hotel.  So comfy.  I booked my stay for two nights (including breakfast, which I still recommend) before the flight back to the states.

My short stay in Lisbon was enjoyable as always.  The city was all lit up for Christmas and full of tourists, even if the weather was a good 15 degrees cooler than in Portimão (I miss it so much!).  There was a Christmas Market in the park with carnival rides and an ice rink (seriously?  How?  It wasn’t that cold.).

I visited my favorite Hard Rock Café and was stunned to find that one of the waiters recognized me.  What?  The last time I went to that restaurant was six months earlier – the reason I remember that is because it was Easter Sunday and stupidly packed.  Weird, though, that I didn’t remember the dude.  I’m sure I’ll remember him if he’s still working there the next time I visit (he was definitely a cutie).

Way too soon, it was back to Lisbon Airport.  The flight to the U.S. was marked by having to switch my aisle seat in the very back of the plane to a seat near the flight attendant’s sitting area.  Not sure why the switch, but at least I had leg room for days.  A quick layover in Philly and then it was back to the ATL.

I hate that airport.  I didn’t used to before starting this journey.  Now it makes me itch every time I see it.  Still, the transition from plane to baggage claim to tram to car rental went smoothly enough.  Then it was off to an Airbnb I visited in January.

Still as cozy as ever, I did the standard things there during my short stay.  Mail pickup (including retrieving samples of the very t-shirts I had designed – very pleased with them, I must say), reupping on supplies, and dying my hair again.

I met the host on the way out of the place and we had a nice chat.  I filled him in on some of the places I’d visited since last seeing him and encouraged him to make his own way to Europe.  He said I was killing him with all these travel stories.  I told him I was killing myself as I’d hoped to be housed in Portugal months ago.  I confirmed his opinion that the Portuguese are a laid-back people living lives that aren't consumed by all the daily crap that Americans deal with.  That's just one of the reasons I'm still trying to get back there.  But for now …

Back to the airport.  Yeah.  I can’t keep doing this whole transatlantic hopping thing anymore.  The money, the butt-numbing time on uncomfortable planes, the stress – can’t keep doing it.  I was on the plane to the states when I realized that I need to do this as little as possible in the coming year.  I just can’t handle it anymore.  Screw dying my hair, screw getting the mail, and, as I had no income in 2024, screw having to fly back to do my taxes.  I need to remain in Europe for as long as I possibly can.

Still Happily in Portimão

 

Things continue to go well in Portimão.  It’s gotten a bit cooler and windier, but the sun is still shining (which I love so much).  Daylight Savings Time ended on Sunday 10/27/24, so the days are shorter now.  We’ve gotten a bit more rain, but that just makes the sunny days all the better.

I’ve extended my stay in my current cute pink apartment for a total of two months.  That makes this the longest I’ve stayed anywhere since I sold my house back in March 2023.  I’ll hate to leave the place as, when I do, it will also be time to leave the country again, but at least I’m enjoying my time here while I have it.

A couple of weeks prior to this post, there was a frisbee tournament on the beach.  Lots of teams and spectators in cordoned off areas for their matches.  One area was set up with bleachers for the larger matches.  Once the tournament was over, everything was quickly demolished, and a bunch of volleyball nets were set up.

As in the states, the Halloween decorations quickly gave way to Christmas trees and lights.  Again, there's no Thanksgiving holiday outside of the U.S., so it's a smooth slide into the end of the year festivities.  Once again, though, because of my timing, I won't be able to spend the holiday in the country I love.  Pesky tourist visa expires before 12/25/24.

I’m still reeling over the results of the 2024 U.S. election. 

Sigh.

The next four years are going to be bad.  Really bad.  A lot of people are going to die.

But, since there’s nothing I can do about that and as I already have one foot out of the country, the only thing I can do now is get my other foot out.  The job search has been nothing but a frustrating dead end. After a year of searching, I can’t even bring myself to look at another listing. 

The data analyst course I was taking ended up being another non-starter.  The course was estimated to take 3-6 months.  When I wasn’t done after nine months of waning interest, I knew that was not the route for me.  I don’t care how much an analyst can make, if I hated doing the work, I couldn’t pursue that career.

So, Instead I have opted to become an entrepreneur.

I opened a print on demand shop a few weeks ago.  I’ve had this thought in mind for about a year now and finally just decided to take the leap.  Despite all my research, the learning curve has been a steep one.  No sales yet, but I’m keeping hope alive. 

I’m also still posting on Medium.   Though the amount I’ve earned over the last year is only enough to buy me a single cappuccino, I do keep trying.  My goal is to eventually have multiple sources of income.  It’s slow going so far which is … sigh.

Here's the link for the shop if you’re in the market for a snazzy new t-shirt.

www.thetangyteeshop.com

Portimão, Portugal

 

Surprise.  I’m back in Portugal.

What can I tell you?  It is my happy place.

And, yes.  I’m fully aware that there are so many other countries I could visit with my renewed Schengen days.  Switzerland, Germany, Italy (I still have a thought of spending a month traveling by train to multiple cities), France (I want to hit Nice eventually), and Spain but … naw.  I’m good in Portugal.

After several tries, I was able to find affordable housing, just not on Madeira (still looking into that).  Instead, I decided to hit a new part of the mainland.  The Algarve is in the south of the country, best known for its beaches.  The airport is in Faro which is apparently nowhere near where anyone wants to be.

The first transport options I encountered were several booths for shuttle services.  The lines were very long for all of them, so I went on the hunt for a taxi.  I quickly learned why the line for the taxis was non-existent.

My next apartment was about an hour away from the airport.  I can’t say how thrilled I was to see my first Pingo Doce along the way.  Yay!  I was back in Portugal!

Wait.  You want how much for the cab ride?

Sigh.  There goes another hundred bucks out the door.  (Please note: this is the third c-note taxi ride I’ve taken in the last three countries, Türkiye, Montenegro, and now Portugal.  You’d think I would have learned by now that cabs are a rip-off.)

Needless to say, I will be finding a different way back to the airport.

I spent my first week in Portimao in a cute, pink, 1^st floor apartment.  It was a nice setup with a double balcony and a tub (with the dreaded partition).  The building is about a mile and half from the beach over a sometimes rocky path.

The beach is fronted by the usual boardwalk with restaurants and shops.  And a lot of British people.  I knew before my arrival that there are more Brits here than anywhere else in the country.  There’s even a grocery store called The Food Co. that’s run by Brits and sells British made products.  My host in Porto had already warned me that the only reason to go to the Algarve was for the beaches.  All of the history and old-world charm of a city like Porto was completely given over to apartment buildings.  Lots of apartment buildings.   

And that’s about it.  Not so many historical sites in town.  The big draw is definitely the beach.  I have no problem with this.

I couldn’t book the first apartment for more than a week, though I wanted to.  Might as well make the most of the overpriced cab ride.  I ended up booking another apartment owned by the same hosts and get this – it was in walking distance from the first place.  Sweet!  Further away from the beach but closer to Continente (a very small Pingo Doce is another mile further up the road).

I knew before I got to the second place that I wouldn’t like it as much.  It was located on the 8^th floor in a building with a pool.  There was another tub (this time with a shower curtain – yay!) and two HUGE balconies.  I loved those things.  This was a corner unit like the first place which meant different views for each one.  Granted, there wasn’t much more to see than other apartment buildings, but still.

A little over a week in that place and I managed to book the first apartment for an entire month.  And, despite liking this place more, I found myself kinda missing the 8th floor.  Oh well.  Both places are good and means I don't have to make any more plans for a while.  I have no interest in getting on a plane again right now, so I figured to ride out my time in Portimao.  I’ll see if I can hit Funchal next month to use the rest of my Schengen days.

I love this country so much!  Y’all don’t even know!

Back To Cascais

 

After two weeks in that great place in Porto, I decided to head back to Lisbon.  My Schengen days were once again running out and I figured it would be easier to leave the country from Lisbon than Porto.  I’d spend the week in the city and figure out my next move from there.

Lesson learned from getting to the apartment:  don’t subject another Uber driver to those narrow streets.  I don’t care how skilled they are, I just didn’t want to risk it.  So instead, I hauled all my stuff down to the main street (not a fun journey dragging my roller bag downhill over rough cobblestones in the early morning) and call a ride from there.

A quick flight from Porto and I was back in Lisbon.  After an overpriced cab ride from the airport to Cascais, I was met by a woman (the first black Portuguese woman I’d spoken to) and taken up to the apartment, a new place for me since I couldn't book the place I liked from last year.

Yeah.  It’s not a bad place, but it instantly made me miss the place in Porto.  To its credit, though, it does have a tub and a gas range.

I chose to return to Cascais as opposed to Lisbon proper because the area has beaches that I love to walk along.  But do you remember when I mentioned that there is construction going on all over the city of Porto?  Well, it seems that Cascais is no different.  Not only are many of the streets blocked off and the sidewalks torn up, but there was also construction happening in my apartment building.  Once again, it was right over my head.

I had heard some banging and clanging throughout the week, but my last couple of days in the apartment were the worst.  One day, the buzzing and banging began at around 9:30 right after I’d finished breakfast.  Since the sound was starting to burrow its way into my skull and give me a headache, I decided it was time to spend the day in Lisbon.

It was a half hour walk to the train station from the apartment.  Another 40-45 minutes by train into the city (with gorgeous views of the coast most of the way).  Then it was either a short trip on the Metro or a not-so-short walk into town.  Since it was a nice warm day, I decided to walk.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned Bertrand before.  It is a chain of bookstores that are all over Portugal.  The branch in Lisbon is the oldest bookstore in the world, having opened in 1732.  It draws a lot of tourists, but, mercifully, not as many as Livraria Lello in Porto.  I never could get into that place because the lines were always stupidly long, but Bertrand is always accessible.  Crowded, but accessible.  Fortunately, I had visited the store on earlier trips, so I knew the way.  I made a beeline for the English section, got my books (which they will stamp for you) 

then got the hell out of there.  Too hot and too many people.  Very glad to get outside.

My former host Luis, the chatty one in Porto with the maps and suggestions, advised me not to go to the Algarve in the south because it wasn’t as historic as Porto.  The only reason, according to him, to go there was for the beaches (my research also told me that there were so many Brits who’d relocated there that the place felt more British than Portuguese).  Lisbon, in his opinion, was too expensive and crowded and not to his liking.  While I appreciated his love for his city, I gotta disagree. No shade on Porto, but I will always prefer Lisbon.  Yes, it is too crowded and too expensive, but there is a vibe to the city that can’t be beat.  I’m always happily humming while navigating the winding, paved streets.

And, as usual, there were various sights to behold on that day.  A parade led to a bandstand with people waving flags and chanting.  I have no idea what that was about, but it seemed to attract a lot of people.

In the main square, framed by pretty, purple-flowered trees, was a crafts fair.   You could buy all sorts of handicrafts and jewelry.  And of course, booze.  Lots of booze.

Porto IV

 

So, yeah.  A part four.

After three weeks in Porto, I had to consider what to do with my few remaining Schengen days.  I thought about going to Cyprus or taking a train to Spain, but … nah.  I’m good in Portugal.  Porto isn’t my favorite city, but it is still Portugal.  It may not be Madeira, but this country as a whole still feels like home.   I would actually love to return to Funchal, but I couldn’t find an available place with a reasonable price (the prices ranged from $100/night to – and I kid you not – over a $1,000/night!).

I called for an Uber to take me to my next temporary home.  The driver was a friendly man who chatted with me the entire way. You know the drill.  I told him about my situation, how I came to be in the country, and how I did not want to leave.  He assured me that Portuguese was an easy language to learn and I laughed in his face (well, at the back of his head as I was in the back seat).  “If I can learn English, you can learn Portuguese.”  Um, English is easy compared to Portuguese, Turkish, Mandarin, etc. which is why everybody learns it.

We turned off the road that hugged the coast into an older part of the city.  The transition is always marked by leaving the paved highway section and slowing down for traveling the uneven, stone roads and increasingly narrow streets.  And I mean really narrow.  At more than one point, I was sure the guy was about to lose a side mirror or hit a parked car.  I just sat there wincing the entire time. 

We got to one area where he could safely turn around and I told him to just drop me off and I’d figure out the rest of the way.  I really didn’t want him to damage his car for a 12-euro ride. He said “no, I got this” and kept going forward.  After asking a lady passing by for the exact location, we turned into a tiny parking lot.  The apartment is just to one side of it.

He got my luggage out, shook my hand, and wished me luck.  I tipped him the max amount through the app – dude had earned every penny.  As I already had my phone out, I began crafting a message for the host’s neighbor to let me in.  Before I could press send, a pretty young woman with long curly brunette hair came around the corner and helped me into the apartment.

I knew when booking this place that it was a new listing.  It had no reviews but was owned by a Superhost (for those unfamiliar with Airbnb, Superhosts have the highest reviews and the best reputations). I usually chose my places based on reviews but took a chance on this one because of it being owned by a Superhost.

Turns out, it wasn’t just a new listing as everything in the place is new.  Brand spanking new.  As in the twist ties were still on the power cords of the appliances.  As in I had to remove the packing tape from inside of the microwave.  New appliances, cookware, bedding, linens, the whole nine yards.  I was the first guest and I can’t tell you what a difference it was to go from an old place with ancient appliances to a squeaky-clean place with unused … well, everything.

I LOVE that!

The place is really nice.  Big kitchen with a backdoor that leads to a shared courtyard, a roomy bathroom, and a decent sized bedroom.  I love the U-shape of the apartment even if I don’t love that it’s on the ground floor.  The windows in the living room face the tiny parking lot and there are always people walking around and making way too much noise. 

Being a new place, there was a slight hiccup on the first day.  I noted that the fridge, located behind the kitchen door (which is dumb – why have that door in the first place if you have to close it just to access the fridge?) was not working.  I pulled it back from its cubbyhole to find that it was indeed plugged in.  I shot a message to the host then immediately figured out where the fuse box was located.  Something tells me that the place has been sitting unused for a while.  The fuse for the fridge was the only circuit that was shut off and the clock over the kitchen door was an hour behind.  Daylight Savings Time started in Portugal several weeks ago.

There was another issue I had with the place.  It has the same problem as other older buildings in this country in that it stays cold no matter what the temperature is outside.  There are two wall-mounted heaters in the place that do exactly zip unless you’re standing right in front of one.  Fortunately, there’s a heavy comforter on the bed so I didn’t have to use the one in the bedroom.  The host also provided a blanket on the sofa.

While not in sight of the water, the apartment has easy access to it.  This part of Porto is right on the ocean, a short walk away from the mouth of the Douro River.  There’s a park close to the shore that reminds me of Belem in Lisbon as it’s just as green and pretty.  This whole area is just gorgeous, so much so that I don’t think I caught it all on camera.

It’s a good hour on foot from this part of the city to the touristy section, but there are busses and taxis everywhere.  The colorful tram cars run right along the main street with the terminus of the tracks being just a short walk from the apartment.

Unfortunately, after having decent weather for the last couple of weeks, the first few days in this new apartment saw the weather take a turn.  A couple of days were just frustrating, starting off sunny and then turning gloomy and rainy.  Then sunny!  Then raining.  That cycle repeated until the weather just decided screw it, just rain all day. 

Yay.

Since I didn’t relish the thought of finding a new home in that weather and I was quite content in the apartment, I extended my stay for another week.  After days of wind and wet, Monday 5/6/24 started sunny … and actually stayed sunny all day.  It was glorious!  And I’m not the only one who noticed.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: the Portuguese are a hardy people.  When I went walking on the first sunny day, the temperature still hadn't risen much because of the rain.  I had ventured out in my heavy hoody zipped up to the neck as the wind whipped tears out of my eyes and made my nose run.  Meanwhile there were half-naked people lying on the beach.  I don't know if I'll ever be this weather-resistant.

The very next day, temps were in the low 80's.  Summer is coming, folks.  Only my favorite time of the year!

Porto III

 

Luis arrived just as I was leaving the apartment.  He helped me down with my bags and we chatted outside while I waited for my Uber.  Then we said our goodbyes and it was on to the next place.

Yep.  Still in Porto.  Still don’t feel like getting on a plane/train/bus.  Just not feeling it.  So even though I’m not crazy about the city – eh, it’s where I am now.

The host of the next apartment was an older lady who awaited me on the other side of the gated entrance.  She showed me in, not able enough to help me up the two flights of stairs.  That was fun.  It made me wish for the tiny elevator from the last place.

It didn’t help that, while getting my Samsonite into the apartment, the pullout handle decided it was done.  Sigh.  Well, at least this bag lasted a while.  I bought it after Costa Rica in August so I got eight good months of constant use out of it.  That makes it the longest lasting bag on this journey and worth buying another one. 

The new place is another interesting one.  It’s a huge one-bedroom apartment for Europe, but it feels very old.  I could tell by the condition of the tub, the floor that moved under my feet and the appliances in the kitchen.  To my surprise, though, old did not mean useless.  The mini fridge got surprisingly cold, the washing machine did its job even with a broken detergent drawer, and the oven … umm.  

It’s too old to even have temperature markings on the dial.  Instead, the knob goes from 1 to 10.  What the hell does that mean?  Since I had no idea, I guessed and put my trusty sweet potato casserole in at level 6 which, in record time, resulted in a more … Cajun style of dish than I had planned. I turned the oven down to level 4 and it was still too hot.  Apparently, level 10 is the power of the sun.  I don’t know why you’d need that much power in an oven but … okay.

I don’t even know what this thing is, so I didn’t touch it.

I made another pass at Livraria Lello, but was again deterred by the lines.  Instead, I found my way to a little restaurant that offered tastings of the city’s famous port.  I specifically asked the waiter for a solo tasting that wouldn’t leave me completely drunk and this is what he recommended. 

The tray came with a little book to explain the different flavors.  The first I tried, the Tawny, was my favorite with the Rose being second.  The waiter warned me to try the Ruby last as it had the most alcohol.  He wasn’t kidding.  That one made the others taste like fruit juice.  They were all pretty decent, though I don’t know that I’d ever purchase any of them.  I already drink enough green wine at night and the occasional drink during the day.  I don’t know how or even if I should include port in my daily drink-fest.

In making my way to the Douro one day after lunch, I passed by a store that sold Samsonite bags.  I seriously debated getting a new one. I mean, it was just the handle, right?  The rest of the bag was fine.  But then I remembered just how many times I used that handle to get through airports and realized that I really needed that feature.  So, I bought bag number five.  I sincerely hope that I am housed before I have to buy #6.

Remember what I said about the apartment being old?  Yeah.  About that.  It took a few days in the place to realize that the balcony in the dining room was one of three attached to the apartment.  The one in the living room was blocked by the entertainment center, so I first assumed it was a window.  The third balcony was in the bedroom.  Since the blinds were kept down in all the rooms to keep the sun from overheating the place and the apartment didn’t have a clothesline (I just hung the laundry up around the apartment), I didn’t bother to check out any of the balconies until my last full day in the place.  I went out of the dining room door, curious to see if the balconies were connected.  Once outside, I left the door partially open … only to hear it snap into place.  Before I even checked it, I knew I’d been locked out.

Oh.

So that’s why there are rocks placed beside the entrance to the balconies.  And, of course, there is no handle on the other side of the door.  So, I was stuck on a tiny balcony with no idea what to do.

Unbelievable.  And I hadn’t even had breakfast yet.  Nice way to start the day.

Panic instantly set in.  I could see my phone on the table inside.  Fat lot of good it did me there.  I wondered if I could make it to the ground but alas, I was on the second floor and didn’t have enough radioactive spider blood in me to make it down.  I could maybe get the attention of someone on the street … who probably didn’t speak English.  Brilliant!

Fine.  I’d just have to He-Man it.  The first door wouldn’t budge, but the other side of the door did give a little.  I kept working on it until it finally cracked open (I may have broken it, but we’ll just keep that to ourselves).  I was then able to slip inside and breathe a sigh of relief.

Fortunately, that was the only bit of excitement in that place.  At the end of the week, I prepared to move on as usual.  This involved transferring my stuff from my old bag which I did with reluctance.  While the new bag is slightly larger, I still preferred the old bag.  I couldn’t bear to throw it away so I left it in the apartment and let the host know that I hoped someone got some use out of it.

Porto II

 

April 14 and it was moving day again.  I had no desire to get on a plane again so soon so I chose another apartment in Porto for a week.  The Uber driver took me from the eastern part of the city (I would later learn that that was considered the old section of town) to the western side of Porto.  The new place was located on a busy main road that was under heavy construction.

I was deposited on the sidewalk to wait for the host.  Luis arrived soon after, a friendly man who helped me into the apartment.  This place was a studio, not my first choice of places, but it was all that was available at the time for a decent price.

I gotta say that this is the strangest studio I’ve ever seen.  And I thought the last place had a weird layout.  The place is spacious – except when it isn’t.  The living/dining area has plenty of room, but the bedroom and kitchen are tiny and hidden by the same set of sliding wooden doors.  It wasn’t such a problem in the kitchen to cook while the door was open.  But trying to slide by that door to get to the bed was an act of contortionism.  Good thing I’d had that massage the day before.

At the very least, the apartment didn't have the same issues with damp and cold as the last one.  Located on the 6th floor, it even had a decent view.

Upon first entering the place, Luis sat me down at the small dining room table with the map of Porto already laid out.  Since I told him I’d already been in the city for a week, he said he would test me on what I had seen.  I had been to most of the places he’d mentioned (while not actually going inside any of the churches).  When he asked about Livraria Lello, I groaned.  I’d been by that place twice, wanting to see what all the fuss was about, but the lines to get in were so stupidly long that I just kept walking.  Luis laughed in understanding, saying I should still stop by to see it when I can.

He explained that this was a quiet area as opposed to the area where I had previously stayed and the area around the riverfront which he dubbed “Disneyland” because of all the tourists (can’t blame him on that assessment).

He gave me numerous recommendations for restaurants and sites to see, following up with a long text containing even more info.  I do love when hosts provide info like this.  Luis is obviously a man who loves his city and knows it backwards and forwards.  I like that.

I mentioned the construction on this street, but it wasn’t limited to just that area.  There are cranes and crews working all over the city.  Streets are blocked off, sidewalks are replaced with wooden planks, and there’s the sound of saws and hammering everywhere.  Even above my head.  The banging usually started around 8 a.m.  A fun accompaniment to my breakfast every morning.

The power went out one day as I was making breakfast.  I figured it had something to do with the construction, so didn't think much of it.  Breakfast was done enough so I ate it and left for the day, assuming the power would come back on shortly.  Cut to 5 pm and the electricity was still out.  A quick message to Luis and he had me switch a lever in the circuit box.  It was probably my bad.  I had the A/C, the microwave, and the electric kettle on at the same time.  Good thing I changed my mind about doing the laundry that day.

It takes about an hour by foot to get to the touristy part of the Douro.  There are buses and the metro system to get people around, but as the weather had been gorgeous – 75 degrees and sunny – I had no problem getting on the good foot.

At my host’s suggestion, I stopped by a local pizza parlor for lunch that was just a few doors down from the apartment.  This was another one of those deceptively large restaurants – just walking by the storefront, you’d think it was just a tiny place with a few tables. But once I stepped inside, I realized that there was an upstairs, a downstairs, and a back patio.  The spaciousness of these places never fails to amaze me.

The menu lists a bunch of baseline pizzas to which you can add more toppings for a fee.  The food was good and the entire experience was made all the easier thanks to the tablet ordering system.  I’ve seen similar electronic methods of ordering before (namely the Olive Garden in the U.S.) but this was more comprehensive than any I’d ever seen.  Nothing is ordered from a human – from the first course to the last, it is all done on the tablet.  The waitstaff bring the food and clear and that’s it.  The only thing you can’t do at the table is pay.  You can order the check, a waiter brings it, and then you pay at the front.  The restaurant is called Pizzaria Luzzo and has several locations around Portugal.  I highly recommend it.

Another one of Luis’ suggestions was the Mercado Bom Sucesso.  Also located near the apartment, this is an extensive food court sans the mall (that’s located across the street).  You can find sushi, tacos, a wine bar, a beer bar, and lots more.  A very popular spot for the locals at lunch time.  I went there a couple of times, wandering around and being overwhelmed by all the options.  I ate at an empanada place one day (of the three I ate, the cheeseburger was the best) and an Italian restaurant the second time.  There’s a bar there that serves a delicious Cosmo.  Another place I recommend when visiting Porto.

Continuing to follow the list of Luis’ suggestions, I took the rather long walk across the Douro to the World of Wine complex.  This is a confusing maze of museums, restaurants, wine caves, and cafes all scattered around multiple buildings.  There were wine tours, tastings, and interactive displays mixed in with numerous shops where you could buy any of the wines you tasted.  Since I’m still not a big wine person (other than my beloved green wine which I suck down every night) I skipped the tastings.  But for those who are really into wine, Porto will ensure that you are not disappointed.

I found one section of the complex that was particularly pretty.  You can get your drink on while surrounded by greenery and birds.  Just like at the Lisbon Zoo, the peacocks run this place.  I don’t know if the birds are native to this area or just exotic pets that are kept in Portugal, but I’m always thrilled to see them.