�� My waking
thoughts were with Bob who is off to Turkey with friends today; he
sounded so excited when we spoke yesterday. My
holiday continued. Simon is really
good at days out. Today we were off sightseeing to Porto
and set off on foot for the Metro/tram station. Luckily Si had been here
several years ago while doing a yacht delivery and knew roughly which way to
go. The tram was easy to use, quick, clean and minimal waiting time. My first impressions
of Porto as we approached was not good with beer swilling undesirables outside ramshackled
blocks of flats while nearby youths were scrapping a car a great knots in a
side road.
�� We left
the station in search of a tourist information office passing numerous beggars
on the way, then fully informed with map in hand continued, the buildings
becoming quite wonderful. We stopped for coffee in the large central square and
read the tourist guide, deciding to head across the river to the big port warehouses
via a suggested list of grand buildings. And grand they were: We took numerous
photographs. As well as the ornate stone facades there were many extremely
ornate tiled buildings, the entrance to the train station being particularly
beautiful with huge tiled pictures. Even some of the most dilapidated little
shops and houses had the most beautiful patterned tiles decorating them. I
considered sending photos to Ami to reproduce the designs on fabric.
�� By now I
had fallen in love with the town that dropped down to the River Duoro with its
mass of rickety, crumbling buildings in the most pleasing faded tones of
yellow, maroon and green, with laundry hanging from balconies and funny little
shops. If ever a scene inspired me to reach for my paint box it was there all
around me. I took even more photos. Over the contrasting arch of steel to cross
the Duoro, port warehouses in various shades of stone rose up the hills. Along
the banks people touted for business from the pleasure boats. I had decided
from all the port makers offering tours that we should take the Taylor�s one,
so it came as no surprise to me that this was the one furthest up the hill the
other side. The lunchtime sun was now hot as we climbed the narrow cobbled
streets lined with lovely old stone walls and occasional views through the
terracotta roofs to the city on the other bank. Our reward awaited us.
�� Under the
stone arch labelled Taylor�s
and into a courtyard with flowers and pretty water trough, under a canopy of
vines, the aroma hit us. The view was absolutely stunning and we decided to
make the most of it and have lunch in their restaurant. The cool stone interior
was a welcome retreat from the sun and the white port aperitif went down very
well. The menu was interesting and we decided to combine desert with other
courses ordering chilled strawberry soup for starters. It was very scrummy, not
sweet, with a bit of a kick at the end. I continued with the sweet/savoury
theme and ordered duck with chocolate sauce for my main course while Si chose
lamb cutlets. It was all very lovely and Si even managed some almond tart to
follow. We waddled some time later to join the tour. Our guide enlightened us
about the production process of the famous port while we stood, dwarfed by the
huge wooden barrels and heady from the alcohol rich air we breathed. Samples
followed and yes, we now have a bottle of 30 year old tawny in the bilges!
�� We
resisted the temptation to leap on a tram from the top of that hill straight to
the junction for our tram home. At the bottom of the hill we then resisted the
temptation to take the funicular railway to the top of the other hill. We
walked off a small percentage of our lunch and took the long route back round
the town taking in more wonderful sights on the way. It was a great day out.
�� We
returned to Leixoes (AKA Stinkville) and after some business on the internet Si
got to grips with some passage planning. We decided to have an early start and
try for a 14hr sail tomorrow.
