Obrigado, (obrigada?) Portugal

Portugal was never really in my plans. I had a plan. I wrote down all the cities of all the countries I wanted to see while I was in Europe and Portugal made it to the “probably not” list. However, when (my perpetual travel partner) Natalie and I were looking at flights, we quickly realized Portugal was the best option. So, off we went to Portugal. I won´t bore you with all the details of events that lead up to Portugal, though there were a lot. 

I will just jump to the metro ride to the airport, so I can fully embarrass myself. A few stops before the airport, I realized I had forgot something that one REALLY should not forget when they are traveling from one country to the next. Yes, that's right. The passport. The doors opened for the next stop, I panicked, jumped out, and told Natalie I would meet her at the airport. I ran out of the metro stop to a desolate looking street and luckily found a cab. It got me back to my apartment in the same amount of time the metro took. Fail. I took a cab partially back, switched to the metro, got to the airport and literally RAN like one of THOSE people to the Ryanair counter. We made it. 

An hour later, we were in the air. Natalie and I quickly realized that my unplanned exercise was not going to end for the night, as we would have to run to the bus we were to take from Porto to Lisbon. We were especially sure of this because we had absolutely no idea from where the bus departed in Porto even after researching online for about an hour. We ran outside the airport as soon as we could get off the plane, jumped in a cab, showed the driver our tickets, and off we went. We had NO idea if he knew where he was going. We certainly did not. To add to the ambience, it was pouring rain. The cab stopped in a seemingly random side street in front of what I can only describe as a giant hole in the wall. He pointed to the hole and we got out, having no other option. We walked into an opening that had two buses and some VERY sketchy looking characters. Luckily, we saw two men wearing the same outfit and realized that, shockingly, this bus company had employees. We timidly walked up to them and asked “English? Español?” They did not speak either. We showed them our ticket, shrugged our shoulders, pouted and hoped they knew this meant “are we in the right place?” Well, I had not idea what they did and did not understand because they answered with a slew of portugeuse phrases I had never heard and certainly could not decipher. If you have heard that Spanish and Portugeuse are similar, IT IS… A  MYTH. They sound nothing alike. Yet, these men continued speaking portugeuse to us. They took us to the ticket counter and we found out that are tickets were “wrong” in some way, so they gave us correct tickets and we were able to get on the dirct bus instead of original one, saving us an hour on the trip. Win. We finally got to Lisbon at 11 pm and passed out.

Yes, these are what the hills are like there.

Can you tell it's pouring?

The next day, we met up with our friends Jack and Gaby that we found out were going to Portugal the same weekend. Natalie went off with them as I went to meet with three of other friends with whom we were renting a car. Yes, we rented a car. I don't want to hear any of your comments. After an hour of signing a series of documents, we drove out of the parking garage. I was the one and only driver of the car because no one else could drive a manual car (thanks for giving me a manual 1999 ford escort station wagon in high school, Dad). So bittersweet. I love driving. However, driving in Lisbon is not driving, it is suicide. If you think hills in San Francisco are difficult, you have never seen a steep hill. And not only that, half the roads are about 4 feet wide, with sharp turns and barely any sidewalks, yet with people walking on them. Needless to say, driving that weekend was not the relaxing experience I had anticipated. The four of us picked up Natalie after driving around for 45 minutes and headed to Belém.

We got to Jerónimos Monastery and the tower of Belém a half hour later. We might have seen the tower of Belém, but we are not sure. We definitely saw Jerónimos Monastery, though. I know because it cost 12 EUROS to get in (keep in mind 1 euro equals $1.40). It hurt. The monument was built in 1502 and is considered the most famous in Lisbon. It might have been more beautiful if it were not pouring rain, but it was still pretty impressive. After the monastery, we went next door to the famous Patéis de Belém for “pasteles de nata,” the most famous in Lisbon. They were delicious, and this place was PACKED. I would guess there were about 200 people inside.

Courtyard of the Monastery

Rain.

Lots and lots of Pasteles de Nata. Delicious. 

That night, we went to a cocktail bar called “Cinco.” It was a veritable adventure in the taxi because our driver didn´t know where this place was (or he pretended really well). Spotting it was like being the one to find the Afikomen (yeah I just made a Passover reference). Cocktails were ridiculously overpriced, starting at 8 Euros and going up to about 30 Euros for the crazy ones. The seven of us had a great time talking and drinking our “gourmet” cocktails feeling like real adults. Somewhere during the course of the night, Natalie knocked over my entire cocktail, but bought me another one. We were upset, but not surprised, when they charged us for both of them. Typical Europe.

A few hours later, Natalie and I picked up the car and prepared for the drive to our hostel. We had printed out directions so were all set. Well, we WOULD have been all set had there not been construction. What should have taken 20 minutes, took us an hour and a half. Thank god we were alone because we bickered WORSE than a married couple. I yelled at her for being terrible with directions, and she yelled at me for yelling at her. All was well in the end, however; we reached our beds and went to sleep, our friendship still in tact.

The next day we went to Sintra, the town outside of Lisbon where the famous Portugeuse Castle, also very informally known as the “Bachelorette” castle. The real name is “Palacio Pena,” and before we went, the only thing Natalie and I knew about it was that Ali polish-last-name from the Bachelorette had a lovely date there. We learned it is was built in 1839 during the rule King Consort Dom Fernando II of Saxe Coburg-Gotha and it is the best example of Portuguese architecture in the Romanic period. The most memorable part was the ride there. We decided to park in Sintra because we heard the rive up the mountain was pretty crazy. Wrong. The ride up was absolutely TERRIFYING. The road was about as wide as the bus we were on and wound side to side, with the bus making U-turns about every 40 meters. There was only one lane, so the driver would have to honk repeatedly at turns so that cars going the other way would not hit the bus head-on. We were very happy that we decided NOT to drive up to the castle.

Palacio de Pena. Since I don't have a helicopter, I can't take credit for this picture.

Jump-fail picture in front of the Palace.

When we got back down to pseudo-normal land, we got lunch (if you call a Magnum ice-cream bar lunch… this is how cheap I am), got back in the car, and drove the 3 and a half hours to Lagos. The toll to get there was $18.50, which we were not too pleased about, and filling up the gas was 50 Euros. Basically, all the money I saved getting a 30 Euro round trip ticket to Porto was leaving me by the day. We finally found free parking and checked into the “Lagos Youth Hostel.” We napped, showered, got ready, then went to get dinner at a local steakhouse that was delicious and more importantly, cheap. We headed to “Three Monkeys” per Leo's friends recommendations and the bartenders there were hysterical. There were 3 or 4 (sometimes I couldn’t tell who worked there and who just jumped behind the bar to join the fun) bartenders from Australiala, all cute and friendly. When they weren´t taking shots or icing each other (people of different generations click here to see what icing is), they served up 2-for-1 drinks that cost only 3 euros. Perfect. We stayed here for a while, then met up with 5 other guys from our program that were staying at “Rising Cock Hostel” (Ya know, based on a male chicken waking up) around the corner. We went to Joe´s garage, a club disguised as a bar with cheap beers and cheaper shots. They were playing top 40 and the place was full of students. We even ran into a bunch of people in our program from Syracuse there. Americans truly do take over every venue all over the world. Getting back to our room was a bit of a challenge that night, but we eventually succeeded and went to bed (after Natalie got trapped in the shower for ten minutes).

The hostel had a pretty awesome free breakfast, so we made the painful decision to wake up before 10 am to get some food. Since we were in a beach town, we headed to the water and signed up to take a boat tour of the famous caves for 10 euro each. The beach was a joke. It was about 60 degrees out, we all had coats and umbrellas, and the only people in the water with surfers with wet suits. Cue the rain. We went to the closest restaurant to seek refuge before our boat tour. 

Deceiving. 

What they gave me at the restaurant when I asked for tap water. Europe hates giving tap water, clearly.

Leo ordered onion rings and french fries. Dead give-away that we are American?

Luckily, the rain stopped and we headed to the boat, Mananita. It was no surprise there were only students on the boat since it was the cheapest option. Everything was going well on the ride until it started misting... then raining... then pouring. The temperature drop made a nice accompaniment to the scene as the 30 of us huddled under the canopy for warmth. For some reason, the drivers decided this did not warrant shortening the trip and we went on like this for about an hour. 

Cutest tour guide ever.

Lagos

When we were happy on the boat. Fleeting moment.

We returned to shore soaked and waddled back to our hostel to shower and nap. Leo, Natalie and I decided to go on a search for an open supermarket (not as easy as it sounds on a Sunday), and bought some pasta, sauce, cheese, meat and very cheap wine to cook for dinner. While we were cooking, five German men in their upper 20's joined in the kitchen to cook their cheap pasta dinner. Natalie and I showed off our german by singing the Oktoberfest songs we learned a few weeks earlier. When we found out one of them was a chocolatier (yes, like as a career), I made him help us cook, which was only fair as he used about a quarter of my wine for the pasta sauce he was making. We met four Spaniards as well, all over 30 and multicultural dinner was exactly the type of experience you hope for when staying in a hostel. Natalie and I are wondering why there has been a theme of not meeting people our own age on these trips, but we are getting over it as the time passes. 

After that, we got ready and headed to Joe's Garage again, which was playing some very weird music. They were also serving 1 euro shots, though. Naturally, we decided to stay. Hilights of the night included an Australian to buy me things, as he told me I looked like Elaine from Seinfeld ("but in a good way!"), a guy in a neon green body suit, and a young man with a white collared shirt, one button done, dancing like a LUNATIC on a platform, almost kicking someone in the head every 30 seconds. We bar hopped a bit after that, but Natalie and I decided to go back early since we had to wake up at 6:30 AM the next day to drive to Lisbon and return the car.

Driving to Lisbon was a challenge, as expected. As everyone slept, I LITERALLY slapped myself in the face repeatedly to stay awake (I mean literally, not how people colloquially use the word). The low fog did not help at all, as it made everything seem dreamy- the weather was mocking me, making it so obvious how much I wanted to sleep, but I couldn't. Before going into Lisbon, we had a slight hiccup at the tolls. We accidentally drove into the Portugal version of an easy pass line, and with obviously no option to turn back, pulled over into a tiny highway-island-type thing. Andrea and Natalie run back to the toll people to tell them what happened and begged them to fine us. We gave them the license number and continued toward the airport to drop off the car. When we arrived, Natalie and I ran to the air-shuttle to get to the bus station to return to Porto. All that travel was exactly as much fun as it sounds. 

Unfortunately, the friend we were staying with in Porto had work and could not get home until about 8 that night so Natalie and I had to carry our bags everywhere. We made it to two wineries, the Taylor winery, that had two free sample and a free tour, which was amazing, except that our tour was entirely in French and we couldn't understand anything.  We then met up with our friends Jack and Gaby again to go to Sandeman winery, the most famous in Porto, since they were the first to use advertising in a mainstream way. The tour was very touristy, but enjoyable nonetheless, especially when we got two samples at the end.

The Taylor Port winery tasting room

So pleased to have free port

Natalie was also pleased.

After the port, the four of us went to dinner. Natalie and I split fish and Francesinha, which is supposedly the most popular dish in Porto (a sandwich with five types of meet inside, cheese on the outside, then covered with a spicy tomato soup). It looks disgusting, but it tasted like fatty American food, so it was pretty delicious. 

I wasn't kidding when I said it looks disgusting.

After that we went to the "Imperial MacDonald's" which, according to Rick Steve's, is the nicest in the world. I would have to agree. You can decide for yourself.

We finally met up with my friend Romain, dropped our stuff off in his apartment, met up with Gaby and Jack and headed to the river with about 5 others. Romain is originally from France and in Porto for a year studying engineering. All of his friends were French and spoke perfect English. Yet again, I feel like crap for being BARELY bilingual. It turns out that on this Monday, Porto was "practicing" for an attempt to put on the the biggest fireworks display ever in Portugal on the following Monday. As we were walking to the river, we saw the first firework go off. The display was put with music and the backdrop of Porto provided the most amazing fireworks display I have ever seen. After the first round of fireworks, Romain took us to a place to get cheap drinks, 2-for-1, at 5 euros each. We took our drinks out to sit on the river and watch more fireworks, talk, learn french, and be generally ridiculous, of course. 

The experience in Porto, though brief, tops the list of abroad experiences so far. The night was such a perfect mix of excitement, language, cultures and surprises. We headed back to Romain's at around 2 am and had to wake up at 4:30 am to catch our flight back to Madrid. My only Problem with Porto was that we couldn't stay longer.

Porto is pretty, I guess. 

Clearly, although Portugal was not on 'my list' I could not be happier I went. Portugal, YOU, sir (Ma'am?) are now on my 'to-return-to' list.