A new day dawns and this one feels like it must be better than yesterday! The breakfast room in the Hotel Vice-Rei is somewhat dated and it's like dining in another era. Its offering not large but it is adequate and tasty and sets us up for a day out and about in Oporto. Tones of mustard ochre and mustard brown create a time warp and I feel I have stepped back to the days before cell phones and Internet and flat screen TVs. The breakfast maid wears a uniform in these very colours, apron starched with the same efficiency as she does her duties. Of more mature years than me, she is a delight; tanned, attractive and with presence, like many Portuguese women.
There will hopefully be no dramas, wild goose chases or circles to go in today. Well, just one, the Yellow Bus circuit. We purchase a two-day ticket for the Yellow hop-on hop-off bus. This mode of sightseeing is not really my cup of tea but Brett is keen and it seems that the sights here in Oporto are copious and spread out and the bus goes everywhere so it's a decent option to get a good overview of the city. There are two routes; we will do one today and one tomorrow. The bus stop is across the road. Good, we will hopefully find that more easily than last night's restaurant!
On yes, here comes our bus. On we hop and upstairs we go. The sky is cloudy and the wind is chilly today, a bit of a shock to be honest, after yesterday's heat, but the nice man at the hotel assures us it will be warm and sunny between midday and 4pm. He is correct and the layers we brought were required.
The audio commentary gives us all the relevant info as we pass various landmarks. Oporto is one of the oldest cities in Europe, dating back to 300BC. I had not realised this, never having wondered too much about Oporto's history. With a population of 1.4m (similar to Auckland), it is a modern city with great transport links, happy people, a heap of interesting things to see and do and an overall good vibe. Even at this time of year, there are still plenty of tourists about, and the city caters well for the likes of us. The locals are very proud of their city - the most beautiful city in all of Europe, they say. I couldn't make such a bold call as there are so many beautiful European cities that I love, but this one is up there, that's for sure. It's beautifully curated history, efficient transport links and many other factors leave Auckland in the dust, I'm afraid to say.
We hop off the bus at Foz where there is a beach and at the end a lighthouse at the entrance to the port and river. We walk out on the adjacent sea wall. There is a thick fog hanging in the air giving a ghostly vista as fishing boats go in and out. Fog horns sound often. There are plenty of fishermen - and women - out this morning, trying their luck by hand off the sea wall. It isn't good by the look of things. Not one of them has any catch. That's what the Atlantic Ocean can deal up. We spend some time out here, watching the waves crash and locals fish and banter. A barge comes in. Large container ships approach. The fog lifts. It is picturesque in that nautical "out on the rocks" sort of way.
We walk along the promenade and it's rather pretty with cream balustrades and rocky inlets. We stop for a snack at a restaurant sheltered from the sea breeze. It is posh in a down-to-earth way, and makes for a very nice mid-morning break. It is intriguing to note big healthy specimens of pohutukawa trees all along the sea front, they obviously thrive on the Portuguese coastal soils. They are mentioned in the bus audio commentary. And they are everywhere.
Back on the bus we drive along the river, past the old town and we head over the big bridge built by a student of Gustave Eiffel. Trains and people go across the top level and cars across the bottom. There is a similar bridge a little further on, built by Eiffel in 1877 (well before the Eiffel Tower) but it has only one deck. They are similar construction to the tower (and our own Auckland Harbour bridge) with open metal bracing and curves. There is yet another bridge further along which is of similar arch design but of concrete construction and at the time of its completion in 1963 it was the longest such span in the world and a marvel of the times for its engineering prowess. It is massive and still looks brand new. There are six magnificent bridges over the Douro here in Oporto.
Oh, to have such foresight and travel capacity and choice in Auckland ... Yearn, yearn ... Sigh, sigh ... Despair, despair ...
We hop off again but we are now in Gaia, the town on the other side of the river. From here we get great views of the historic city of Oporto. We are amazed at the fast flowing current of the Douro but the many Rabelo boats negotiate the waters with familiar ease. The riverside is lined with stalls selling Portuguese trinkets and souvenirs but not in an overbearing way, and a short gondola ride travels overhead, taking people to the highest point.
A steep side street lies ahead and if it wasn't for the fact that Cockburns port house lies somewhere up it, I would not be going anywhere near it! Up and up we walk, it is really steep. And narrow. And really hot by now. The nice man in the hotel was correct - by midday, the weather had become perfect. It is now early afternoon and I'm close to expiring!
The tour in English doesn't start for another 45 minutes so we take a seat on a comfy sofa on the mezzanine and sample some port ... Brett tries a tawny and I taste a white port, which, to my knowledge, I have never tried before. It is lip-smackingly good, especially after that haul up the hill.
There are a lot of people on the tour which is a bit of a pain. Shuffling from spot to spot, negotiating a viewing point and photo angle amongst a bunch of tourists and a barrel of barrels is not my idea of fun, but our guide is excellent (and short) and we learn a lot about port and, in particular, Cockburns which has been in private family ownership for some years. It is cool in the cellars, with a delicious aroma that says "party here". At the end we sample three different ports, sitting with another couple from New Zealand and one from England. We purchase a bottle of 20 year old tawny and a bottle of wine from the Douro area (apparently also very good) and then carry on our way. A nice little stop. There are dozens of port houses in Porto and we went to this one because it was included in our Yellow bus ticket. It was likely as good as any other. We didn't have time to sample any other.
Back on the bus we return to the city side of the river and alight by the main shopping street. It is pedestrianised and thronging. We would like to go to the Majestic Cafe but it is full so we wander on further. Buskers and beggars are dotted along the way. It is election time here, as it was in Spain, and Communist Party supporters are marching up the street chanting and waving their hammer and sickle flags and causing a bit of chaos and congestion. The police are out in force to keep things in order. It is lively indeed, and this is a really great street for the people (no cars). Oh to have a carless pedestrianised main street back home ... Yearn, yearn.
After meandering along for a while, we walk back to the Majestic Cafe and are pleased to find there is now space for us. We get a table and order a wine, surrounded by gorgeous 1920s decor. This is an iconic cafe, much like Iruna in Pamplona. The interior is art nouveau and the splendour of the Belle Epoch era is everywhere. Frequented by artists and creative types in it's heyday, it fell into a slumber during the 1960s and by the 1980s it was in a state of neglect. It was restored in the early 1990s, opening again in 1994. The original leather furniture was restored and it is a fantastic place. We spend a very happy hour or so here and then hop back on a Yellow bus. Alas, this bus terminates at the next stop, effectively the end of the route. It is 6.30pm and the Yellow bus does not begin again. What? So early? The driver tells us we can take any number of public buses to get back to Boavista. We hop on one but that driver tells us we have to change in a few stops. Oh. Within a few minutes we have the entire busload trying to work out where we need to go and which is the best bus for us to take. There are many options. We hop off at the change point and wait. And then we wait. And we wait. None of the said buses is coming. We wait some more. Hmmm. Trams rattle by, they are the original style, emblematic in Oporto in shades of brown and cream, an old fashioned sight to behold. We rather fancy taking one but alas it doesn't go our way. We continue waiting.
A young guy also waiting at bus stop is wearing a black suit and cape. During today, and also yesterday, we have seen dozens of young people wearing similar black suits and capes all over the city, and females wearing snappy black business suits with pencil skirts. And always the black cape. We wonder if they are students going to a special ceremony. A Harry Potter convention perhaps, as that is what it reminds us of. I ask the guy what it is all about and he tells me that yes, they are all university students, and yes, they wear this outfit every day. And yes, it was inspired by Harry Potter, and yes, the students themselves recently voted to wear this type of uniform. Every day. It looks very smart, and definitely smacks of Harry Potter. They all seem to wear it with great pride and it certainly makes a statement, especially en masse, but I wonder how comfortable it would be to sit in lectures dressed in business attire. And a magician's cape. I also wonder how it would go down at Otago University ... NOT!!!
Suddenly, along comes a Yellow Bus, this one is finishing the last round of the circuit and will pass our hotel. We leap on and soon find ourselves back at Hotel Vice-Rei, back in the '80s. And then we head back to Grelhador de Boavista, back in the land of the locals, the restaurant we found ourselves at last night by accident. We are hungry, having been too busy to stop for a proper lunch today. The Grelhador was tasty and good value last night, and close to our hotel - why go further afield?
The waiters greet us like old friends and tonight we order the mixed meat grill, with salad and wine. It is superb, and we finish with port and coffee. We are the last to leave, again. Our port tonight is not on the house!
It has been a very full day and we have covered a lot of ground. A mix of seaside and riverside, promenades and cobbled streets, fancy cafe and local grill, Yellow tourist bus and blue public bus. Oporto gets a tick for diversity, history and delivery of a great experience. It's a fabulous destination ... And well worth yesterday's angst of getting here!
Observation of the Day: France may be the land of "deux hommes" and Spain the land of "dos señoras" but ... I believe that Portugal is the land of "tres pessoas" (three people). Here, there and everywhere, clusters of three people. Any combination is possible and you can guarantee there will be arms gesturing wildly, voices babbling loudly and feet shuffling slowly, earnestly putting the world (or each other!) to rights. One will likely be commanding the show, the others agreeing or disagreeing with gusto. And they will be short! Especially the men! Eminently watchable - love it!
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