OPorto!

I'm sitting here in my orange and lavender themed hostel with some techno something bumping in the background, sipping some cheap and delicious Portugese white wine and savoring some fresh and equally cheap chocolate cake, when it dawns on me- this time next week I'll be heading into the office.  The thought is fleeting enough for me to then realize I've scattered chocolate cake crumbs all over the table. Maybe it's from nodding my head to the Portugese techno that these brown little sweet morsels have scattered. Or maybe I'm just messy (answer B is the more likely one.)  I didn't think I'd feel this way- but I'm looking forward to work, to coming back. The narcissistic part of me indulgently wonders if it's so I can share all of my stories with anyone who will listen (a.k.a. the incredibly patient women trapped in the office with me), but I don't think that's it. I think one thing I've learned is that the experiences of travel are a highly personal thing. Sure, you all are gazing pretty deeply into my brain folds through this blog, but the experiences aren't what's communicated here- they're my own twists and turns of those experiences.  Obvious enough, right? But it's true- while I sincerely hope the people I love have enjoyed following along on this journey with me, my experiences are entirely mine. And try as I might, can't entirely be shared. Man, that's a pretty empowering thought, to own a trip like this. Anyways, I look forward to returning to work.

(That used to be chocolate cake. And do you see the orange and lavender? You should see my dorm room...)

I find myself and my writing getting off on these tangents quite frequently.  I blame the techno. Anyways, I'm in Porto and it´s been lovely.  Immediatley when I got off the train, Porto gently smacked me in the face with old world charm. It's one of those places that just feels historic, ancient, storied. Similar to how Big Trees State Park makes you feel, but with architecture and people instead of trees and squirrels. A sense of time passing in depths so beyond what's in my imaginative power. Granted, the two places are very different, Big Trees and Porto. But I'm saying the slap of humbleness is similar.  These places just make you feel small and young in nothing but an awe-inspiring way.  Quite simply, it's a romantic city. 

 

The red tiled roofs are legally mandated- as an UNESCO World Heritage site, the city is not allowed to alter or change it's appearance, nor are the residents allowed to physically alter the outside of their homes.  They may replace their leaky roofs, but it better be with red tiles. 

Sure makes for a charming panorama, though.  The best part of my day, as the best part of most days, was meeting a wonderful person who I then shared the rest of the day with. She is a lovely girl from Brazil, who is living as an expat in France.  She studied film and worked in movies in San Paolo for years, tired of the lifestyle, and is now renting an apartment in Tulouse.  She is so energetic, inquisitive and just lovely to be around that I asked her to join me for dinner later that night and we made it a date!  She talked to everyone we passed (easy, since she speaks Portugese) and by the end of the night we had shared life stories and a bottle of wine. I am so happy to now have friends spanning the globe.  I can't think of a better thing to bring home with me than these connections. 

(I just can't get enough of these red roofs, even if they have nothing to do with what I'm currently talking about...)

So, while Porto is great for meeting inspiring people from all over the world, it is also great for inspiring multi-million (probably billion) dollar book series. That's right folks, J.K. Rowling taught in Porto, and supposedly dreamed up Harry, Voldemort and the wizarding world right here. Even the wand shop is actually located in Porto (but the wizardly bastards don't let you take photos inside). 

They don't sell wands, they sell books. And it's the most beautiful book store I've  EVER seen. Trust me, I have a thing for bookstores, and this one is inspiring.  The interior is low lit with darkly varnished wood shelves and a red, optically confusing, beautifully crafted staircase that looks like it's in constant motion.  It's easy to imagine how Rowling could be spellbound by this place (pun absolutely intended). I sure was. 

You wouldn't believe all the wizards walking around too. It's a trip. People in black cloaks and snappy shoes EVERYWHERE.  So they're not really wizards (they'd like you to think) but are Portugal's equivalent of Greek life univeristy uniforms. Similar to sororities and fraternities, but they wear these matching uniforms that are identical to Hogwarts Slitherin uniforms. They even carry these weird wooden spoons around (wands, duh). The strangest part is that I'm not even kidding.  I swear, this really happens and you can come to Porto to see it. Or just Google it.  It's very strange.  But, to my extreme disappointment,

none of my photos of these little Hufflepuffs came out, so you will indeed have to resort to Google. It's probably some spell they cast to never show up in photos. Sigh.

So besides Harry Potter, which is my favorites aspect, Porto is also know for, wait for it...Port!  Although for accuracy sake I have to tell you, it's not actually made here in Porto but across or up the river.  And by across, I mean right across. 

See that town right over yonder? NOT Porto but where Port did in fact originate. I did my due, and this morning my new Brazilian friend and I spent our time tasting vintages, whites, reds and roses.  For those of you who don't know, Port is made with brandy, and is POTENT.  So we then walked (wabbled?) off our headaches along the waterfront of the town. Take a look at these old school boats, used for transporting the wines from the vineyards to the cellars.

After a lovely morning, I allowed myself some down time and have been relaxing (eating chocolate cake and drinking wine) ever since.  Tomorrow it's off to Lisbon, and onto the last city in my European tour.  Wow, it's been real.

Love you all.