Tag Archives: tourists

Camino: Porto to Santiago, Uncategorized

Oh, oh, oh O’Porrino! Feel the petrichor!

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Have you ever seen a more beautiful Roman path?  Grape arbors on your left, stream on your right, ancient paving stones beneath your feet. And rain coming down on all. Enjoy, because I took very few pictures this day. A wet iPhone takes lousy pictures — when it works at all. 

Tui to O Porriño  (18.5 kilometers — feels like swimming 15 kilometers)

Did you ever want to reach back into the past and grab your younger self by the shirt collar and smack yourself up the side of the head for something really stupid that you said?

Yeah. Me, too.

The Me from September 21, 2019 — a few weeks back.

We were walking from Tui, just across the border in Spain, to O Porriño, about 18.5 kilometers away.

And it rained. Oh, man, it rained. All day. Continue reading →

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Camino: Porto to Santiago, Uncategorized

Alpine trails, mountain streams, fresh coffee, and Portela Grande — could there be a better day?

IMG_6205Ponte de Lima to Rubiaes, (18.6 km — feels like 18.6, except on Alto de Portela Grande)

There is a different mood in the air this morning as the clank, and flap, and zip of early risers assembling their backpacks awakened everybody else in the dormitory.

It started at 4 a.m. with the two guys sleeping in the beds next to me. I understand starting early to beat the afternoon heat, but walking three hours on mountain trails in the dark of night with, probably, only a headlamp to guide you?

By 6 a.m. the predawn dorm was an undulating shadow-sea of pilgrims rising up, gathering their scattered clothing, running off to the loo, bundling up their backpacks, and strapping on their boots. Occasionally the door would open and the motion-activated light in the hall would stream in, trapping shadows in the glare, momentarily freezing all like it was some big jailbreak. Continue reading →

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Camino: Porto to Santiago, Uncategorized

Finished walking by noon? I think we’re getting the hang of this Camino thing

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I was so taken with this stand of trees and the way the rising sunlight played through them, that I walked right past the arrow indicating our turn.

Day 4: Lugar do Coro to Ponte de Lima (11 km, feels like 10)

I awoke this morning without a trace of a hangover. Talk about small and unexpected miracles on the Camino.

Dinner at Fernanda’s table last night was an incredibly joyous gathering, fueled in no small part by bottomless bottles of wine, generous bottles of Tawney Port, and a clear liquid we named “Death In A Bottle.”

And singing. So much singing. And camaraderie. Lots of camaraderie. Continue reading →

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Camino: Porto to Santiago, Uncategorized

Feeling like hell, ending up in heaven: Casa Fernanda

IMG_6044Day 3: Barcelinhos to Lugar do Coro (22 km, feels like 22 until the last 5 km …)

According to the Camino guidebook, the next destination is supposed to be Ponte de Lima, about 22 miles from Barcelhinos.

After two grueling days, my first thought was “No way in hell.”

There were plenty of smaller towns between Barcelos and Ponte de Lima.  “Less walking, more enjoying,” was to be our new mantra. Continue reading →

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Camino: Porto to Santiago, Uncategorized

At last, the Camino begins to move back in time, as we move forward

img_5739Day 2: Vila do Conde to Barcelinhos (30 km, feels like: 45 km)

It is hard to look at the remnants of the 999 stone arches that comprised the base of the Aqueduto de Santa Clara in Vila do Conde, Portugal,  and accept that at one time it was a colossal failure.

An aqueduct has one job, right? To convey water from one point to another with an MVP assist from gravity. I’m no engineer but it seems to me that, in building an aqueduct, slope is everything.

All about the slope, it’s all about the slope. Continue reading →

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Camino: Porto to Santiago, Memoirs -- fact and fiction, Uncategorized

Leaving Porto is so hard … twice

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The Atlantic Ocean stretches before us  at the mouth of the Rio Douro, as the moon begins its descent. We are about to make a sharp right and finally head north toward Santiago.

Day 1: Porto to Vila do Conde (35 km)

Twice on this journey, we have left Porto and twice a voice in my head is saying “Your work is not done here.”

I think it may be the voice of the good people who bottle 10-year-old Tawny Port. 

More likely, it is just the soul of this venerable old city’s siren song, calling me back to discover more of its hidden pleasures.  Continue reading →

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Rants and raves, San Miguel de Allende, Uncategorized

The racist at the next table

The couple sat down at the next table as I dipped my second churro into a piping hot Chocolate Mexicano.

“I’ll sit right next to my darling sweetheart,” said the man brightly. And a little loudly.

“Who talks like that?” I wondered.

I was especially curious because I happened to be reading a NOVA report on the theory that the Big Bang created a mirrored universe that runs in reverse of ours. Mind you, not for one moment did I think that I’d slipped through the portal and landed in 1947.

It was just, you know, quaint. And a tad patriarchial. But then, she looked like the sort who thought a line like that might be charming, under some circumstances. Continue reading →

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San Miguel de Allende, Uncategorized

Hiking the Rio Laja to Antotonilco

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All it takes is to miss a turn and you end up on a quiet country road like this one, which leads to the long-ago abandoned hacienda Las Trancas, about midway into the first section of the trail and a fabulous spot from which to engage the river.

We did it! We found the off-road, Rio Laja trail from San Miguel de Allende to Antotonilco. Several weeks ago, when we walked to Antotonilco along the old highway it was pleasant enough but the road is narrow and pretty busy.

Here and there we’d catch glimpses of the chalky gray Rio Laja which flows south into the sprawling reservoir called La Pressa Allende. And here and there was evidence of a trail!

We’re still new at this hiking/walking thing and lacked the confidence to jump off the road and into the brush along a river we hardly knew. Who knew where we might end up? Continue reading →

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San Miguel de Allende, Uncategorized

Curbing his enthusiasm

 

Our little yogi, dep in meditation.
Pigeon pose.
Updog pose.

This little guy was sitting all alone this morning on Calle Hiernandez Macias, or so it seemed. Half a block down was his mother, sitting against a wall in the shade offering Chiclets to tourists.

He was bored enough to topple off the curb and into a pigeon pose in the street, before switching to an updog pose. Our little yoga master!

 

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