My Great Adventure - Porto

My second day in Portugal I had to travel by train from Lisbon to Porto. This could be a 2.5 hour trip, a 3 hour trip or a 3.5 hour trip depending on whether I chose the fast train, the slow train or the bus. I chose the slow train. I had to take the metro to the train station, which was so beautifully easy, the subway system is excellent. One travel source called it tired, but they have obviously never been in Toronto - which I consider properly tired in comparison.

I should have bought my train ticket in advance, because I had to wait from 9:30am until around noon for my train.

When I arrived in Porto at 4ish, the rain was cascading down - causing all the people to stay squished in the station - and block all the maps. The maps would not have helped me because I had not obsessively researched Porto like I had Lisbon.

I should have. If I had known which direction to turn - to walk toward the Cathedral - I would have found it in the rain, and I could have started walking on Saturday, to the albergue just out of town. That would have cut 5km off of my first day walking which ended up being 27km.

Instead, I wandered around the station, waiting for the Cathedral to jump out at me, which it didn't. The rain kept teeming down. I held back my inner Virgo panic, and then saw a Comfort Inn peeking at me through the rain. I dripped to the desk, got a room for 89 Euros and settled in for the night.

In hindsight - the hotel was a good call for me that day. The rain stopped, and I explored Porto and had my first Portuguese meal - a true dinner - and I dried out my clothes and watched English animal shows on TV.

I don't know why Porto confuses me - but I think if I ever return - I will know my way around. Once I 'get' a city, usually I'm set.

The next morning I had breakfast in the hotel, included in my fee, and I took a yogurt and an orange for later. I had scouted out the Cathedral the night before and after having my first stamp in the church, I began to wind my way through the city following the arrows.

The day was difficult. I had lost an end off of one of my walking poles, so I left that one behind, leaning against a wall - and continued my trek with only one, which was fine.

I met up with a Brazilian couple - and walked with them off and on that first long day. [I discovered many walkers wanted to practice English with me on my trip.] Getting out of the city took such a long time. That day is blurred - but I remember a brutal hill, and the hot sun, and my backpack was so heavy that first day. I joined them for a coffee and shared some chicken gizzards... and then we walked together to the albergue - which was in a monastery. Cold and empty, but good energy.  I shared my room with a French woman named Viola who lived in Germany. She was lovely and  shared a meal with me that evening. There was no way I was walking to the bar nearby to eat, so I think that Viola was my first Camino Angel.

That night when I went to bed, my legs were jumping and throbbing with electricity. I had survived my first day - and I decided that I would only walk 15 - 20 km a day from then on. There was no need to for me to rush it.

Day two - the Brazilian couple were doing closer to 30km that day - so we walked together until Rates where I met up with Viola again, and we had an incredible meal at the albergue there. The weather was still off and on rain and I slept in a damp room full of strangers that night. At least nine of us in that room, and one heater - the sound of the rain in the street overcame the sounds of the breathing pilgrims.