Woken up early by our local cockerel alarm clock, actually there were 3 of the damn things all trying to outdo each other in the cock-a-doodle-doo stakes! Hey, but it meant we got an early train into Porto which took all of 25 minutes zooming through graffiti encrusted stations.
Wow, we did not expect Porto station to be highly decorated in ornate Portuguese tiles but it is and it’s super busy.
It has dropped us right in the heart of the city and we battle the waves of other tourists in order to nab a map from the tourist office to aid our exploration.
Porto is a charming place on steep narrow streets lined with colourful tile clad homes and shops leading down to the river Douro.
Here the river banks play host to many restaurants and bars overlooking the tourist boats bobbing up and down the river.
Ah, Himself has a sharp eye and has clocked the Port Wine houses on the opposite side of the river so 3 guesses where we went next!!! There are no less than 18 world famous Port houses here, each offering it’s own tour and port tasting. Hmm, as we don’t want to find ourselves inebriated and on the incorrect train back to camp we decline the tastings. Oh but we do stop at the ‘Sandeman’ house and plonk ourselves on their terrace, where herself had a white port with ice and himself enjoyed a chilled 10 year old Tawny port… bloody lovely.
After more stomping around looking at stuff our stomachs begin growling for sustenance so off we head to find some grub. We find a terraced restaurant 3 streets back from the river front and enjoy a late lunch combined with a bit of people watching.
More stomping about and the old tootsies are screaming ‘go home’, so away to the train we go and head back to ‘dumpsville’.