At times an adventurer may find himself far from the life of convenience that spurred his great journey. In those moments of unfamiliarity one may find the amenities of life to be long distant memories and they themselves in great need of simple modernities.
In the middle of a desert, breathing air too thin to even retain the heat of my breath I once found myself in need. Inside my room made of stacked salt blocks, the compass/thermometer attached to my bag said -8° C. There were no power outlets, no climate control, nor anything save a small, elevated light in the darkness. A bare bulb hung above a room housing two preposterous buccaneers who stared at it with hope in their eyes, and dead batteries in their hands.
In this moment, far from any civilization and in need of power, perhaps you will have the luck (more than foresight) to have one of these little devices in your kit.
Many places that I have been fortunate enough to visit and survive do not have infrastructure such as the city provides. Where a single generator runs the lights for certain hours of the day and no accommodation is made for charging pleasantries, you may find this little device to be a savior.
In the day of smart phones and charging bricks, we are both more and less susceptible to crippling power loss. Consider tossing one of these light bulb adapters in your pack before you go. If all you have is a light bulb, you can now charge your phone at the furthest flung stopover in your meanderings.
Pro Tip: Check the voltage for the country you are in 110/120/220/240! and check the voltage rating on your power adapter for the device you are trying to charge. I nearly killed myself with an electric razor once!
I like overland travel. I’ve met a great many good people that way, and have had some of the most exciting moments of my life at border crossings. If you have read any of this site history, you probably know that. Leaving Tallinn, TJ and I caught a Bolt across town to the bus station. This ride was uneventful and we easily had our tickets in hand before time to leave. The bus billboard was asking a lot of me, but I’m not naturally suspicious so I went with it.
It was an easy ride into a Estonian beach town named Pärnu. This was about the halfway point to Riga, capital of Latvia, and I thought a quick dip in the Baltic Sea was a good idea. TJ opted for Public Access TV, and I can’t blame him.
The public-access-king-tut-viking-action shows are on point, but he did miss some fun sightseeing. In the spirit of the topless beaches, here’s a mildly topless photo of me.
Our flat had an ASS key that opened all doors, so we hauled ass and went out for some indescribably good Georgian food. We then hit local vintage shops in hopes that what we bought would survive the trip home. Spoiler: it would not.
One sleep later, a quick ride to the Riia Bussijaam had us at our Latvian goal; the capital city of Riga!
TD;DR: Tallinn is a delight. Please go see this town.
There were a great many things about the town that were a curiosity to me, and others that were a shock! Curious? Read on!
First off: food!
The grocery store is confusing, but it’s definitely the most affordable place to eat. Tallinn is not expensive compared to many European cities, but eating like a local will prolong your travel budget. In Tallinn, that means learning a whole new method of shopping. I’ll drop this link here so you can read it from someone smarter than myself: A Guide to Living in Estonia
If you are looking to go out and eat, there are loads of options, but I think my favorite was F-hoone. Any time of day, there is something to try there. Check out Hell Hunt if you are looking for a fun pub in the old town central plaza.
Next up: Adventure!
If you feel like taking your pants off in Tallinn, have I got good news for you! The Nudist winery is ready and waiting!
On the advice of AZTravelGuy, we went to the Depeche Mode bar. It was basically what one would expect, so don’t fight the crowds to get in here, but if you are a fan and have an hour to kill, go take a look around.
Interesting things we saw, Chains in the drain pipes from all the buildings. We couldn’t puzzle out what all the chains were for but later someone told us it was to break up ice that formed in the pipes when it was cold. We don’t run that risk in summer, but I can see it being of great value in winter. The once might Linnahall (once called the “V. I. Lenin Palace of Culture and Sport”) from the Moscow Olympics has fallen into disrepair, but it’s a short walk if you want to take a look around it. The KGB museum in Tallinn is interesting. I felt it was worth the price of admission, and helps to explain the local attitude towards foreign involvement. The KGB museum is near the Russian Embassy. Given the decorations outside the embassy, they don’t appear to have increased in popularity with the locals, recently. If you are curious about that particular aspect, Google or YouTube can probably show you what I mean. No Photo: My mate, Will Robinson, can tell you that we have a long tradition of “No Photo!” violations. Tallinn was no exception. #nophoto
Tauno Kangro
If you are given the choice, don’t drive anywhere. At the time we were there gasoline was over $8 USD per gallon. Nearly 3x the cost of gasoline in the USA at that time. That said, we’ve already extolled the virtues of Bolt as a car service in Tallinn. Bolt is like being an extra in a low budget Fast and Furious movie. One of our Bolt drivers was particularly wild in our transport. TJ and I were surprised that he didn’t crash, and not surprised when we saw him getting arrested a few minutes later when we walked back down that same street.
Speaking of walking, get a walking tour! They are plentiful and VERY well worth it. We learned loads about the old town and the history of Estonia. Like, why there are signs saying “Kik in de Kok” all over the place! It’s not what you think, so if that’s your thing you may have to look elsewhere. I’m very pro walking tour (especially with local guides) so you may want to start with a tour, then ask the guide all your other questions about exploring the city further. We didn’t see a lot of pay-to-pee public toilets, and while you should still carry a 50c coin just in case (Tallinn is expanding their public toilet presence), be sure to grab a drink from a local restaurant if you need to pee while you are out. They can give you advice and tips on things you might not know about.
Locals are always the way to go, and after years of traveling, I have run into a lot of folks who now live everywhere around the globe. Occasionally, I wind up in a town where someone, whom I have previously met, now lives and they can give me some tips. Tallinn is one such instance, happily. Viktor and I bumped into each other at a Couchsurfing event in Hungary some years ago, and now he’s back in Tallinn. He agreed to meet TJ and I and walk around the old town and grab a coffee.
Viktor told us about the local festivals and dances that had just finished, explained some of the regions history, and spoke of his new relationship. Viktor has been famously re-quoted many times by TJ and I as saying, “I’m 35, Dave. It’s time to settle down.” We saw a local coffee shop, and once Viktor found out I lived in Texas, he insisted we go to the “Texas” restaurant. While I am certain the menu is great for Eastern block Tex-Mex, I still prefer eating local fare when I am abroad.
Tay-Hass
Wrap up:
Go to the grocery store and not to the Texas restaurant.
Get the BOLT! app if it’s too far to walk. Big time and money saver!
Take the walking tour. I sound like a broken record, but do it.
Carry a 50c piece for the public toilets in an emergency.
The first time I ever heard of Estonia was in the 1992 seminal masterpiece “Encino Man” starring Brendan Fraser; later to star in “The Mummy”… a movie among whose other accolades is the fact that the combined cast of which caused an entire generation to become bisexual.
The second time I ever heard of Estonia was in Budapest, Hungary at a Couchsurfing (RIP) gathering. A Couchsurfer (CSer) told me that Estonian women were the most beautiful women in the world. He was from Estonia, so his opinion may be skewed. I do encourage healthy curiosity though, and if you wonder about this I think you should go see for yourself. Yes, you, dear reader. Go. Now.
Señor Tijuana and I ripped out of Helsinki as quickly as we could. I don’t think we gave Finland a fair shake, since we initially expected to be there for the MotoGP race and were a bit dejected over how that went down. The stupefying variance between the description and reality of our Airbnb didn’t help. The Estonian property looked regal and we were both holding out hope it was half as cool as the pictures.
Ryanair is always an experience. This trip was no exception. The whole plane smelled like farts and people who were farters. There is a city in Greece named Paleofartsalot, and I think the entire city was on this Ryanair flight. TJ and I were easily in our seats, both traveling light, and watching a man slam the lid of the luggage bin down on his protruding suitcase over and over and over, as we both waited for either the luggage bin or the man’s suitcase to break apart. The long-suffering Ryanair attendant walked up to the man and placed a hand on his arm to cease the ongoing criminal act. She, a full 12 inches shorten that the violator, looked him plainly in the eyes and with every ounce of Eastern European stoicism told him, ” It is not going to fit… as you see.” Rightfully shamed, he handed over the bag to the attendant and she disappeared with it; hopefully to throw it in a trash bin.
My first glimpses of Estonia were from far above. The land itself was a beautifully organized rural delicacy; the geometric puzzlement of property lines and crops that reveals itself in a fractured chessboard from overhead. I was nearly vibrating with anticipation when the captain’s voice came over the intercom in a language for which I had no auricular reference, running on in sentence after sentence describing, I am sure, the rolling country below us, their delicate foods and beautiful women, and the speed and velocity of both the plane and it’s crew. After a minute of this came the minuscule pause as this paragon of manhood switches mental gears to one of the hundred languages he commands, preparing to give us his rendition in beautifully accented English…
“We are land.”
The pressure and awkwardness of the Helsinki interlude shattered and I could hear TJ laughing aloud from further back in the cabin at the Captain’s brevity. Estonia was looking up!
We stopped to pose for a romantic selfie and then used an app called Bolt to call a car to get us downtown and it was an adventure. More on that later.
To say that our Airbnb in Estonia was the best I had ever stayed in may not be true, but it’s not far off. While hunting for places to stay in Estonia, I found more unique and highly tantalizing properties that I have ever seen concentrated in a single location within my price point. Hunting lodges, old monasteries, bits of castles… the list seemed to just keep going! We got to stay in an old hunting lodge that was built into the old wall of the city. The whole experience was a delight. Take a peek!
There were patios, sitting rooms, a bar, a kitchen, the sauna in the basement with secret exit, glorious giant bedrooms, extravagant bathrooms, a loft…. it was marvelous. Do yourself a favor and get on VRBO or some other site and cruise the startling options in Tallinn!
Wrap up:
Install the Bolt! app for ride share in Estonia; Uber and Lyft do not work here
Go look for cool short term rentals in Tallinn; don’t settle!
Into every life, a little vodka must fall. Finland was a very different experience from the moment we slid away from Norway. The language became incomprehensible, sounding something akin to Russian to my untrained ears. From the vibrant warm and friendly Oslo airport, we arrived to a ghost town of Lentoaselma Flygplatsen (Helsinki Airport); eerie with echoes of apocalyptic cinema renditions of similarly empty buildings.
If the feelings of Walking Dead pervaded the airport, the train was the opposite… perhaps walking braindead. Everyone was shouting over one another to be heard while seeming to completely disregard anything anyone else was saying. The train soundtrack was lovely from what we could glean between during communal inhales from the clamorous passengers. Passing Tickleyour Dicksbury station, I was reminded of the coffee machine in the airport lounge…
The 20+ hours of sun had not relented and Tijuana and I were still disoriented and uncertain of what time of day it was. As we landed, 2ndHomes, our property manager in Helsinki, was closing up shop and assured us that the keys would be in a lockbox on the front gate. They neglected to tell us that the “front gate” was the gate to their office across town and not the property itself.
As we stepped off the train, exiting Helsingin päärautatieasema (Helsinki Central Train Station) in downtown Helsinki to the sound of breaking glass, drunken singing and public urination, I was somehow about to convince my traveling partner that we should walk the almost 1 kilometer to the house. It was actually more than 2 kilometers, but I am bad with directions when I haven’t slept properly in several days. By the time we arrived at the house to find there were no keys in sight, Tijuana was unhappy with the state of things. The walk back to the nearest tram station did nothing to improve his ailing soles.
Helsinki won’t surprise you with most of the architecture. It’s not a departure from most of the European metropolitan centers that I have been to; which pleases me just fine. I understand and enjoy the layout and flow of most of the European capitals in general. Helsinki may surprise you in other ways, though.
By the time Tijuana and I made it to a tram station, we realized that every store in town was closed since it was nearly midnight, and we had no way of deciphering how to pay from tram tickets. The lone gentleman at the tram stop did not share a common language with us, but did point to an app on his phone in a meaningful gesture, so I dutifully downloaded it, as any sane clear thinking person would, and the tram pulled to our position and the driver bade us ‘enter’ with all the enthusiasm of week old constipation.
As we stood in the entrance to the trolley car, miming at the stout driver of our predicament, she she gave us the most imperious stink-eye that I believe I have ever been victim of. The stink-eye lay heavily on us, despair bleeding into our minds, when the driver closed her window… shut the doors to the trolley, and drove away with us aboard. I assume this is tacit agreement that she doesn’t get paid enough to deal with our bullshit, and doesn’t care if we get a free ride, or go die in a ditch. We took the free ride.
Disembarking at the Helsingin päärautatieasema for the second time that evening, TJ decided he had had enough. He sat down in a small park with a handful of drunken sailors singing at the top of their lungs, folded his arms and said “come back when you have the keys.” Fair play, sailor. Fair play.
I slept walked the 2 kilometer round trip to get the keys and return to Central Station, returning to load an unconscious TJ into yet another illegal tram ride across the city. We slumped into our lovely little flat, blessedly at ground level, and with vague awareness that it didn’t look like the pictures we flopped into separate bedrooms and slept without concern for every waking up again.
The following afternoon upon waking, I realized why something had seemed amiss. No sheets, no towels, the wifi details were incorrect, and the apartment was missing a bathroom. Investigations of the house did eventually turn up linens and towels, but we never did find the extra .5 bathroom which the property had advertised. Apparently, in Helsinki if you combine the laundry room, toilet, shower, and sauna all into one room, it is imbued with the status of 1.5 bath since it is contains more items and needs an inflated sense of importance. We did sleep, though; not laying eyes on one another until mid-afternoon. TJ, apparently hoping to relive some of his ancestor’s criminal past decided we should take a boat to Prison Island, Salmisaari.
Despite sounding like an exciting meat snack, I can’t say anything about Salami Sorry was unique, but it was fun to take a boat and break up the days of cityscape. I try to limit ‘filler days’ like this one because if you are always just killing time, eventually it will return the favor… but we were in real need of sleep and calm, so this worked out. Enjoy some silly pictures.
Sauna in Finland is ubiquitous. it was lovely and makes me wonder why it never caught on in the northern USA. Our 1.5 bathroom included a nice sauna. We availed ourselves of the sauna and made sweaty delight of the place. Interpret that as you desire.
A theme I have seen in Scandinavia, is the distinct difference in approach to the price and availability of liquor between the neighboring countries. Some countries sell it everywhere, and others have strictly controlled state stores that sell regulated liquors at a premium (Systembolaget). Some countries are quite easy to get a pint in, while others are quite dear! Of course, if you aren’t a dummy tourist and actually pay attention, you won’t pay 15 euro for a Long Drink. That’s me, I’m the dummy. Just avail yourself of the local drinking fountains instead.
Salmiakki Koskenkorva is a favorite local cough medicine masquerading as liquor. It’s fine, don’t get me wrong, but this is actually cough medicine that has had ABV added. Prove me wrong; go to Finland, drink some, and then tell me I am wrong. I bet you 5 markka!
Final tally for our Airbnb in Helsinki was something like this: No keys, Wifi, towels, sheets, fridge, trash cans, .5 bathroom. The only knife was so dull it couldn’t cut bread. One of the beds was inexplicably in a tiny loft 10 feet off the ground. All in all a big thumbs down, but we lived to complain another day! On the way out of town, we did manage to find Jar Jar Brunch and the Meat Runway:
If you have a day or two in Helsinki either go wild, or follow someone with better ideas than me: https://www.penguinandpia.com/en/one-day-in-helsinki/
Wrap Up:
Download the HSL public transport app before arriving
Don’t let me plan your trip for you
Drink some cough syrup, and get a Long Drink from a reasonably priced Alko shop.
Don’t go to Prison Salami Island expecting anything great.
I must start out by saying, Norway was a delight. It struck me as that sort of Socialist paradise that all the politicians in the USA are always warning the citizens about. Beautiful libraries, clean walk-able streets, close to nature; I loved it. Despite the easily walked capitol city, there is a great public transportation system in Norway and an extremely easy-to-use app for it; Ruter. We installed Ruter and it got us anywhere we needed to go. Getting into the city from the airport was made easy and cheap by following Megan Starr’s guide here. There are two train options, and they both have the same travel time. Take the cheap one.
Oslo was a rough start for me. I am normally an excellent traveler and able to manage sleep and expectations for time zone changes. This flight however, I stayed up nearly the whole flight speaking to the endlessly fascinating gentleman next to me about his fishing trip, finally making the rookie mistake to try and get an hour of sleep before we land. Oof. I awoke bleary eyed and confused to go into one of the most horrible customs experiences I have ever had in Europe. We were queued up hundreds of people deep with two customs agents to process the entirety of the arriving populace. It took nearly two hours, but somehow the radiant customs agent who finally processed my entry into Norway was smiling and made me forget all about the delays and my complaining bladder as I strolled away in the fog of sleepless travelers in the land of the midnight sun.
I hadn’t realized how pronounced it would be, despite having been in similar situations before. 22 hours of sunlight a day was a lot to deal with. “Sunset” happened sometime after 11 p.m. and “sunrise” somewhere around 2 a.m. The couple hours between were a nice milky white grey color. Nothing resembling “night time” was to be mine for another couple weeks. That said, you couldn’t pick a finer city to be delirious in!
If you do nothing else in Oslo, go to the main library near the docks. The Deichman Bjørvika, Oslo’s main public library, is a justification for literacy all on it’s own. It was visually arresting, clean, suffused with modern art, and a great way to watch the populace get down. You may also walk all over the Opera House adjacent to the library, and swim in the harbor, availing oneself of the diving platform.
Here are some lovely visual highlights!
I had a Norwegian neighbor, Paula, at one time in my youth, and I remember they had some very strange and delightful food; I know this because back when dinosaurs ruled the earth, neighbors still exchanged foodie treats with one another. If you don’t know what Norwegian food tastes like… and if Brown Cheese and “sour cream porridge” sound delicious, have I got good news for you! The porridge was my fave, though with a name like Rømmegrøt, I’m afraid I didn’t start off in love with the idea. Foodora is a delivery service that will bring you just about anything you want, or you can walk around randomly and just eat what smells good. Both of these options should help you avoid the $10USD per gallon petrol costs.
If you do want some Norwegian food recommendations, then here are two that I tried and liked in Oslo: Engebret Cafe, and Asylet. Engebret is a bit fancy and has a long history of doling out great food. Asylet is far more laid back with a great courtyard and sometimes even live music and trivia nights.
Tijuana and I had a couple things we wanted to do in the Big N; ride the Flåmsbana, or Flåm railway, out to the coast, and kick around the fjords. I also wanted to go to a beach north of Bergen, Dårlig Ulv Stranden, until I found out the location was completely fictitious. Don’t believe everything you see on TV, kids.
If you are planning to ride the Flåm railway, please get your tickets days in advance. We thought 24 hours was sufficient time to get a train ticket, but we were mistaken, and wound up delayed. The Flåm is a loooong ride, nearly 8 hours, so bring some cards, a journal, and a willingness to chat and nap alternately.
On the train, we sat adjacent to a lovely couple who had lived all their lives in Bergen and they told us story after story of their lives. One lovely thing I have to note is their pride in having taking in so many refugees from other nations in conflict, such as Syria. This not-quite-elderly couple said they were glad to have been able to give refugees a new home and that they felt most of them were integrating very well.
Arriving in the gray hour around midnight in Bergen, the first thing I noticed was the weather; clouds and rain controlled the previously sunny and warm skies as we stepped out of the train. The second thing was the graffiti; which was both a much higher class of art and more prolific than we had seen in Oslo.
Our fjord boat was named “Bloodaxe” so we figured we were in for a treat. While the ride was lovely, there were no axes and very little blood. Ultimately, the Bloodaxe was a lovely sight seeing trip with not many surprises. If you are in Bergen and want to go sight seeing in lovely nature, go take a fjord trip by boat; you will be well pleased with it. Despite the bloodless nature of a cruise decidedly lacking in axes, I’d still give it 4.5 stars.
On the tour, our guide pointed out a little place named Salhus; sounds like Solace. It is a specific little point one days row from Bergen with white guest houses right on the water that one can rent. I’d love to come back one summer and stay there and row around the fjords aimlessly, reenacting famous nautical battles or monologues from the 2019 Horror/Drama “The Lighthouse” starring Willem Dafoe.
Bergen has so many little things to see and do, it’s well worth a look. If you have a few days, I suggest you go check it out. We found a home rental there from a couple who were in the USA while we were in Norway! For food just go out and get crazy. Tijuana and I opted to have one fancy meal out at Bryggeloftet & Stuene. It was as delicious as it is hard to pronounce! Boar, reindeer, local fish; please go put all their meat in your mouth!
Wrap up:
Oslo in the summer is lovely.
Use the Ruter app for public transportation.
Use the Foodora app for food delivery.
Eat all the food, even the brown cheese.
Buy train tickets well ahead of time.
Check out the secondhand shops.
Steal a rowboat and live out a mini viking adventure; just be sure to pack a lunch.
In 2019, it was announced that the Kymiring was to be added to the MotoGP calendar for the first time! I love the first time for just about any experience, and vowed to be there to see it. 2019 saw some unexpected delays in the readiness of the track, and it was postponed to the following year; 2020. You can imagine what came next.
Now in 2022, the race track is ready for visitors and again on the MotoGP calendar! And as Finland is a neighbor to conflict ongoing in Ukraine, those responsible for the Finland race have cancelled it once again this year from an abundance of caution. Plane tickets in hand, my friend Tijuana and I are not to be dissuaded so easily. We fly away this week for a vacation of new locales, food, friends and flings.
We land in Oslo this week, hoping to insert ourselves into a fjord or two. Let’s go berry picking!
10 years ago today, I loaded up a motorcycle and a girl in my new black truck and drove across the country for a 6 month opportunity.
6 months became 12.
12 became 18.
And 18 became innumerable. The months stretched on, and the motorcycle and the relationship both ended at their respective crash sites. I found more… and I kept crashing those, too.
Today, and every year for weeks around this anniversary, I pay special attention to those memories. I reach out to the friends who said goodbye to me that day; tears spilling down to run over chapped lips in the Arizona desert sun. I remember the salt of it.
This year, I bought am loading another motorcycle in the same truck. Where the old bike was blue, things are now black and red. Where things were once shiny, they are now battered and bruised; no longer new… we have that in common. It seems to fit better. Today, I’m alone, but it’s probably better for adventures on days like this. Easier to dwell on things… to remember.
I remember the hours driving across the country. The tastes of new and strange food on our lips and tales of adventure in our mouths. I remember the columns of trees lining the roads, our silent witnesses as we slept in a farmhouse in Tennessee named for a particularly violent local family.
The trees in this part of Texas line the sides of the road as well. I drive the whole afternoon with all the windows open. No one’s hair to muss but mine. The trees and the miles take me back. I smell the forests, again.
Things are wet here. The splashes of color even carry moisture that the Arizona desert never could. Color only brought in rare moments, or from the denizens thereof. My mind spirals away unsafely from the road before me. To the orange juice of lost mornings. To the waterwheel and stone at the end of that long road… and farther still; to the zinfandel and lipstick at the beginning of it.
Days like today are important. They carry your past for you. You need not hold all of these decisions every moment for you would surely collapse. Days like this wait patiently, and they encircle you, taking you to a place of remembrance. Taking you to a place of worship and honoring the moments that built you.
There are so many things in the rear view. There is a reason that the word “reflection” can mean so many things. Today, among them is a new motorcycle. Hopefully with it, new promises. Maybe ones that I will keep this time.
My arrival in Porto set the tone for a lot of things. A thoughtful train ride vomited we passengers into the streets and to our own recognizance. Without an internet connection to summon Uber, I was left at the mercy of the local Taxi mafia. Portuguese taxi drivers are some of the most brutal you will ever meet.
My history with Taxi drivers is no secret if you’ve read much of the site. It goes back years, to when a social friend of mine who happened to be a taxi driver gave me a ride into town after I had been in a significant motorcycle wreck and could not walk. He charged me $50 for a ten minute ride. I never called him again. I’ve been overcharged, robbed, and abducted by taxi drivers… so when I say Portugal has bad ones, please understand that this is a qualified statement.
I walked up to a taxi driver, setting down my bag and asking him if he knew the street I needed to go to. He grabbed my bag off the ground next to me, threw (actually threw) it in the trunk of his taxi and slammed the trunk lid shut. I yelled at him, and he yelled back the name of the street I had mentioned and he got in the driver seat, shutting the door. I quickly yanked open the back door and jumped in, so as not to lose half my worldly possessions to languidness.
The Porto taxi driver took off like a madman. The guy was a complete bastard. He drove like a psychopath with a death wish. It was the most fun I have had in a car in Europe. I was smiling and laughing the whole time. Don’t misunderstand me, this guy was a total asshole, but the ride was exhilarating. I am a bit unhinged myself.
Gallery Hostel in Porto is one of the best I’ve been to. Well run, clean, nicely decorated; the staff is attentive and available 24 hours a day. It is not without it’s shortcomings, but if you need a place to stay you could do significantly worse. Alex, an art historian from a family of anthropologists who works at Gallery, sat down in their bar with me until late in the night pouring 10 year aged Port wine and telling me stories about the region and it’s historical connections with the rest of the world. It was unexpectedly interesting and something I would recommend for any visitor. It’s full of fun art, too.
The following day, the plan was to get on a train and spend the rest of my time in Portugal out in a little town in the countryside. The more I looked into this and the more informed individuals that I spoke with, the more convoluted and further away this goal seemed.
Everyone, absolutely everyone, in Portugal has a better idea for what you should be doing. I was a little put off by it at first, but eventually just started ignoring everyone. Often, before you can give your name to a local, they are telling you where you MUST go or what you MUST do while you are there. Take all of it with a bucket of salt. The hostel telling you that you must rent a car to the tune of $60 euro a day is not telling you that you can rent the same car for 30 euro for 3 days if you just take a 4 euro Uber to the airport.
Life lesson: just do whatever you want.
After several hours of searching for guest houses, AirBnB, or any lodging in the countryside that resembled what I wanted, I gave up. The goal was to unwind, and so far the whole process was just a huge stressor. I found an apartment of the top floor above a quite plaza in Porto on AirBnB, and booked it.
Whilst booking the apartment on my laptop, I overheard some people discussing going out for lunch. I volunteered myself as a member of their party and our lovely mixed group went out for some local fare before I set off for my new apartment.
The wall in my apartment in Porto.
I spent most of the rest of the week with an open laptop and wine bottle, writing down stories, and enjoying my time alone. One of the girls from my hostel lunch team, Lena, had the marvelous idea of getting out of town for a day and we made plans to do just that.
Porto itself is all hills: Up and Down. While this can be tiring, it also may be contributing to the impressively powerful and curvaceous lower halves on some of the locals, so I can’t complain. Walking anywhere is likely the fastest way to get where you need to go, as the city was not built with cars in mind: a ten minute walk may well be a 15 minute car ride. If you can, just walk. If not, relax and don’t expect anything to happen in an expedient manner. Portuguese are not particularly skillful or careful drivers, in my experience; given the striking volume of times my Uber drivers drove the wrong way down a one way street, got stuck in a dead end, drove over a curb, or made me an accomplice to vehicular homicide. That anyone is alive in this city is a testament to their agility.
Sunset park to the side of the Justice Palace is a great place to be around 8 p.m. to sit and watch the sun set over the ocean. It’s lovely, and it just gets better for the hour after sunset. The contrast of twilight and street lights sharpens the world over the Douro river into a painting the likes of which you will not see elsewhere. Stay; it’s worth it.
The best place I found to eat in town was this little alley immediately off of Fonte dos Leões Fontijn: Rua de Sá de Noronha. It was full of fun people, good food, and importantly, no weird beggars. The worst place… Rua das Flores. It was afflicted with all kids of homeless beggars and loud buskers of dubious quality. Local beggars have realized acting like you are mentally disabled gets you more money… either that, or the sum total of Portugal’s population of retards all reside in this one street.
Best place to start your morning? Moustache Coffee shop. How come you taste so good? Good coffee, great snacks, pretty girls, nice location. It can’t be beat.
Peneda-Gerês National Park was not on my radar. That being said, it was a great day trip with Lena from the lunch crew. Rent a car and go. There is a surprising lack of ANY useful information on this area, and any google results on swimming there just direct you to tour groups. While this may be your bag, it wasn’t mine. There is a tourism info office at the main roundabout in the town of Gerês; ask clarifying questions!
I had seriously intended to tell you how to get to Tahiti falls, my favorite place in Gerês. I thought I had saved a GPS point, or a screenshot of the map, or something… but I didn’t. The best I can tell you is leave Ermida in the direction of Fafião. At the first bridge, park and cross to the far side of the bridge, turn right, and just keep going. Even the walk is an adventure. Stop when you find somewhere you love.
That actually might good advice for life in general.
Here are some pictures showing what we got into on our own. Lovingly crafted, irresponsible fun.
Porto was worth this visit in so many ways. If you are on the fence, just go. The simplest answer is to act.
Even the flight out was entertaining. Filled with some group named “Club Tour” that seemed composed entirely of pensioners who had never been on an airplane before. Picture the stereotypical grandmother learning to use technology for the first time, then fill a plane with her in varying stages of disarray. People who didn’t understand that someone needed to step over them to get to the window seat. Ladies standing in the aisle while others were trying to board the plane so she could take pictures of her friends in their seats. They seemed unaware that there was a seat belt, what it was for, or how it functioned. Throughout the flight they were leaning in front of my screen as I watched a movie, talking loudly to each other; placing their hands on the touchscreen causing my movie to end prematurely. The old farting lady in my row with her clawed hooves dangling over the lip of her shoes really took the cake.
Costa Coffee provided me with a mocha before I boarded. The gate agent informed me that the flight attendants may not allow me to take it on the plane, but to try anyway. No one attempted to warn me against it. In fact, all the flight attendants were smiling at me looking me straight in the eyes; a trend that continued for some time into the flight when I finally discovered the chocolate coffee/mocha drop that was dead center on my nose from blowing on my drink to cool it off. They weren’t looking in my eyes… they were staring at what a slob I was. 🙂
One of the important lessons we learn in traveling: sometimes things aren’t always what we think they are.
My lovely new friend, Lena, gave me this quote recently. Since then, I have bought this the author’s book. A change of situation often offers a change in perspective and an opportunity for growth that we may never have if we stay put. That being said… pack accordingly. I have been known to say that all you really need to pack is a sense of adventure, and I hold to that statement. Even if you are staying rooted, though… know what you need.
“You’ll need coffee shops and sunsets and road trips. Airplanes and passports and new songs and old songs, but people more than anything else. You will need other people and you will need to be that other person to someone else, a living breathing screaming invitation to believe better things.”
~ Jamie Tworkowski
