Day 4 Opporto (Porto); 28 July 2001

It seemed an interminably long time to reach Porto Campanha station: where I eventually arrived at 1254, after ten and three quarter hours. The landscape became more and more prosperously industrialized approaching and north of Lisbon. I was only charged about E3.50 for a quite long taxi ride in a white Mercedes to the Youth Hostel. I collected my room key from a large security guy and was very pleased to find a nice, clean room with a little tilled veranda outside, white plastic table and chairs and a fabulous beautiful view over the wide River Douro, known as "The River of Gold".
Next morning I was off out too early to get breakfast. I reserved a seat to Fatima. Followed the River Douro all the way into central Porto, about five miles, under four staggeringly massive bridges, some with Civil Engineering Awards that were absolutely spectacular. I shall never forget seeing the Pont St Louis Bridge, about 300 feet above the water, swathed in early morning dense river mist. I could only see my side of the bridge clear of the swirling mists. It seemed as if nothing was holding the rest of it up!
Porto City is sprawled all along the banks of the wide Douro gorge. Port Wine lodges are all spread across the other side of the river but I preferred to explore through the old, narrow city cobbled streets where it was incredibly cool at the bottom of the banks of bright houses built on top of each other with their washing hanging out of small windows drying in the breezes. It felt like I was walking through people's living rooms as I walked through their streets. Past the odd dog and the many children running around on the steep slopes outside their homes. In between the people sitting on the steps of their front doors, or at their tables and chairs at bars, or selling souvenirs and clothing from the front of their small shops.
Many fishermen were seen along the walled, pavemented bank of the river but I only saw one tiddler that had been caught. Further downstream I wondered if that was because there were a large shoal of thousands of black looking fish climbing on top of fish, at an outfall into the main river, pressing close up against the river bank 30 feet below where I was standing. Absolutely mesmerizing.
I continued walking up along the streets up the sides of the gorge and back through Upper Porto and back to the hostel. I lived on two peaches, a few grapes and mineral water with a couple of small loaves of tasty currant bread. Fell asleep in the afternoon until about 1530 to find there was no evening meal on offer at the Hotel. Therefore I walked in the opposite direction downriver to the seaside where the "Festival de Carejes" was going on.
It was a great atmosphere with good music, fire eaters walking high on sticks, loads of "SuperBeck" being drunk, tall plastic columns of beer with their own tap set up at various tables from the beer stalls, fantastic variety of snacks available but I needed a nutritious meal so I found a small restaurant where I had a meal of Bacaurah from dried salted codfish. The trouble was that the fish hadn't been soaked long enough I guess. So it was very tough and also stone cold. All the vegetables with fresh pineapple for afters were delicious. Apparently there are 365 different ways to cook the dried salted codfish.

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