Day 58. Monday 5 May.

Another family birthday, so an early morning call to brother John, to pass on an evening birthday wish. Sounded like he and the group in the mountains were celebrating 75 years appropriately.

The day started misty, but sun threatened so we decided to go to Porto, with no great plan in mind. Drove to Valongo railway station: no parking there, but jagged a spot at a small shopping complex (four shops) with a ten minute stroll to get to platform. The train ride to Sao Bento station was about 30 minutes and dropped us right  into the ‘tourist’ area.

But the first priority was to replace the battery in D’s iPhone, which was not only running at only 88% capacity (Replace! shrieked Settings), but was also tending to get quite hot while charging. The Apple dealer was close to the station, but didn’t do tech stuff, so we were directed to a repairer just up the road. No problem: twenty minutes, which gave us time to find a coffee  and some new sweet treats and practise new language: espressos with agua quente, por favor.

Mobile returned with new battery (and cleaned): we had our main communication tool restored (no new phone just yet). D can relax.

Did some wandering, just taking in views. Porto looks shabby-chic-charming in the sun. Smallish, very walkable, colourful…so many souvenir shops! So much seems derelict. Riverside walking trails, rabelo boats on the river, picture postcard terrace houses in pink, orange, yellow…lots of tourists. Sorry to say we’ve possibly become cathedral-phobic (or perhaps just over-exposed: they’re everywhere!) so mostly admire grandeur from street level and keep walking.

Crossed the Ponte Luiz1 to the other side of the Rio Douro, noting an interesting terrace restaurant – the Guindalense Futebal Clube – midway up the funicular route/a million steps… looked like a good lunch option away from the crowds.

Arrived after 1 million down steps to learn that only one table was left, tucked inside, no view, so not keen and when D tried to access the QR code menu, which kept dropping out, we gave it a frustrated miss.

More steps down, but found a little cafe about our size on the riverfront. Shared a hamburger with a (0% alcohol) beer each with fries on the side. Hmm! T: why bother going past the beer? D: just beer and fries?

T suggested a ‘6 Bridges’ boat tour, as the day was bright. And it was great.

That was enough for the day, so up more steps to return to the railway station. But which train? The station is famous for its tiled grandeur but some information boards are sorely needed. Tourists click their phones for the tiles: presumably they already know which line they are traveling (or maybe not traveling anywhere). D joined a long queue in the ticket office in order to get information about our train line to Valongo… ‘1800’ was the reply. There was a train due to depart at 1800 on Line 6, so off we went: still uncertain, D accosted a young woman, asking if this train went to Valongo- it did, she said with a lovely smile, phew!

This is where it gets weird. Nothing went wrong – the train left right on time at 1800, dropped us off where we expected 30 minutes later,  we found the car where we left it, and we drove home.

Dinner. Chorizo, broccoli, chick peas and tomatoes on rice.