Yesterday was a travel day. The train ride met my expectations, clean, comfortable, and reasonably fast.
However, there was a 30 minute delay which meant that I missed the short suburban connecting train and had to wait on the platform 45 minutes for the next one. It really wasn’t a problem because it still meant that my arrival at the hostel was shortly before check-in time.
When I arrived and was ready to check in the young lady at reception indicated there was a problem. My room had not been vacated and they could not locate the delinquent occupants. They couldn’t just remove their things, so as an accommodation I was given a larger room that shared the bath with only one other room instead of 8 rooms. I was certainly good with that!
The hostel is incredible. Still not a hotel since I share a bathroom (what a bathroom!).
There is no sink in the room which is kind of annoying. The hostel is located inside the train station so there’s a bit of noise. I’m located on the third floor and each floor is about 20 feet high.
There are 75 steps down to get to the lobby, but there is an elevator. My room is huge with a 20 foot high ceiling. My room has a living area down below, and a sleeping/loft area above. Pictures will do a better job of explaining the nature of this place.
A common area is located on the fourth floor which is actually the attic of the train station. There is a lounge, bar, and kitchen area where breakfast is served in the morning.
It’s a typical continental breakfast of muesli, hard rolls, yogurt, meats and cheeses. The coffee smells wonderful but I’ve passed on it simply because I don’t want to make the tremors any worse.
I met up with Kris and we began pouring over the Camino guide to plan the first few days. We enjoyed a late afternoon/evening on the waterfront of the Douro River which presented some remarkable picture opportunities. I will let the images speak for themselves.
Daytime is one thing, but the beauty really comes out at night! I returned my hostel through some dark passages which started to feel a bit “dicey”.
The São Bento train station where the hostel is located, dates to the mid 1800’s and features remarkable “murals“ that are made from porcelain tiles. It’s quite stunning. The station is not very large and is in the heart of the old city. I am just a few blocks from the river.
I’m going to do a bit of wandering and sightseeing today. I had considered going to the post office to ship some items back to you and lighten my pack, however I’ve decided that I will transport my bag between lodgings, at least for now.
“Talk” to you later!
I love you. Peter
PS. (Of course!) it appears that folks who subscribe to my posts with Gmail addresses are not receiving the links. I surmise that I may be tagged a “spammer“ because of the number of recipients. It’s something I need to address, but not today. There are better things to do! Hugs to the kids and grandkids.
It was good to hear your voice today! Sorry that I timed it so badly. The difference in time zones is going to take a little bit of getting used to. When it’s noon here I have to remember that you are not yet out of bed.
This has been a low impact day. If I had more days I would do some serious sightseeing, but since I leave for Porto tomorrow I wanted to make sure of my train connection and navigation to the station.
I bought a 24 hour pass that allows me unlimited travel on the metro system: trolleys, buses, funiculars, subway, and local trains, all for about €6, or a little less than $6. The exchange rate between the dollar, the euro, and the British pound is heavily in favor of the Dollar. The Euro and Pound are at all time lows versus the Dollar. Prices are at least 15% cheaper today than when I booked travel and my accommodations in Lisbon and Porto a couple of months ago.
The Metro subway stop is a half block from my hostel. The system is very modern and the ride to the train station took only 25 minutes with one change.
Taking a taxi wouldn’t be much faster but would cost about €15.
Speaking of modern, the train station is spectacular.
While I was on the platform today’s noon train to Porto pulled in. Again, very modern and very fast.
My ticket cost €44, which was for a first class seat. Second class would’ve cost €38. The first class cabin looks like first class on an airliner. I’m sure I will be able to share some pictures tomorrow.
Beneath the train station is a vast complex of shops, eateries, cafés, etc. There was a fancy barbershop offering a special, haircuts for €10. My hair has to grow more before I’m going to consider a haircut. The last one was too short. I know you agree.
I used my pass to hop on tram number 28.
28 goes through the old city and many of the popular tourist areas. These old trams date back to the early 20th century and have been kept in excellent condition.
They are not maintained for the benefit of tourists, although they are a tourist attraction, but rather they are the only form of public transportation that can negotiate the narrow winding streets of the central city that date back centuries. These little electric trains move fast and there is often less than a foot separating it from pedestrians on the narrow cobblestone sidewalks. I am sure there must be occasional accidents which are no doubt blamed on the pedestrians and not the tram drivers.
Because of its route, number 28 is very popular. The tram only seats 20 but it quickly fills to standing room only. The trick is to get on at one of the ends where the coach starts out empty.
I rode tram 28 from end to end which took about an hour. Even though I had a seat it was pretty cramped so I didn’t try to take pictures of the scenery. I did note how few people on the streets are smoking these days. It is quite a contrast to what we’ve seen in years past.
At one end was a large cemetery reminiscent of ones we have seen in Paris and Buenos Aires. Even in death there is the struggle for status. But I am reminded of a German proverb: “Arm und Reich im Tod Gleich” (rich and poor are the same in death)
Some tombs resemble small churches and must have cost many thousands of dollars.
Occasionally I came upon one of these family mausoleums in a state of very poor repair. Cloth covered wood caskets that were once elegant had been exposed to the elements and were in such a state of deterioration that it’s a wonder bones weren’t sticking out the sides.
On the other hand, I came upon a very modern looking mausoleum. It’s “resident“ must have died recently as there were many freshly placed mementos in front, and even a carefully tended tomato plant! When I first came upon this there were two teenage girls seated in front of the mausoleum listening to music.
I just looked the name up on the internet. Sara Carriera died at the age of 21. She was a singer and also the daughter of a singer-songwriter. This is what I found:
“She was only 21 and the daughter of acclaimed singer and songwriter Tony Carreira. Sara was on the passenger seat of a Range Rover Evoke driven by her boyfriend, the singer Ivo Lucas. Lucas lost control of the SUV for reasons yet to be determined. Afterward, a vehicle crashed into the tumbled SUV.”
As I left the cemetery I saw that it was trash and recycling day. Is it possible that the green bins are the property of the Soilent Company?
I wonder what age groups will and won’t get this bit of dark humor.
At the other end of my ride on tram 28 I came to a plaza where there was a beer tent and a number of semi permanent vendor kiosks.
I heard voices raised in anger a short distance away and I came upon a protest.
These were Iranian citizens protesting the suppression of women in their country and the recent murder of a young lady for her failure to wear a head covering. I found the entire scene quite emotional.
The speakers addressed the crowd in English even though most of the attendees were Portuguese. At least in major cities like Lisbon, English seams to be the common language that links diverse cultures.
I am again going to avail myself of dinner here at the hostel tonight. They require at least four people for the chef to work his magic. When I signed up I was number four.
Enough for now. Have Fun, Do Good, and Be Safe! Love You, Me.
PS. (There always seems to be one) This evening‘s dinner was the best multicultural experience that €15 could buy. I shared table with six young people. The young woman in the foreground to the right is from the Netherlands, the two young people seated across from one another are from France, the two young women across from me are from Argentina (the one directly across from me now lives in Barcelona), and finally the young man to my left is from Seattle Washington. Again, English was our common language, although Apolonia (from France on my right) and I shared some German together. She too uses Duolingo. I should add, the meal was again spectacular! Life is good.
Yesterday’s parting was painful! Layer upon layer of longing, uncertainty, and anxiety. Thankfully, the flight was without incident, save for a bit of turbulence over the Atlantic. I have lost count of the number of flights that I’ve taken, yet there remains for me something magical in seeing the Earth, it’s places, and it’s people reduced to specks and points of light.
Leaving Boston
Arriving in Lisbon
Unlike past flights crossing “the pond“ I slept most of the way thanks to earplugs and an eye mask. Of course, not having you to talk with might have had something to do with it.
Departure from Boston was 11:30 PM eastern time, and we arrived in Lisbon at 10:30 AM. I am 6 time zones from you. About an hour before boarding I happened to look at Facebook and saw that Garry and Kathleen Clifford were at the Boston airport boarding a plane for their home in Glasgow Scotland, via Dublin. They were in the same terminal! Garry reached out today and expressed his regret that we had missed meeting. Perhaps next spring when you and I are walking Hadrian’s Wall in England we can connect. Glasgow is only about a 90 minute drive to the north.
Lisbon airport was extremely busy, but very well organized. I was in a line for a taxi that stretched at least 200 feet yet it only took me about 10 minutes to get a cab. €23 and 15 minutes saw me to the door of my hostel, The Living Lounge.
It is located in the heart of the old city, just a couple of blocks from the waterfront and grand Plaza. My room is simple, the bathroom is down the hall, but it served up a “full-bore” hot water shower that was most welcome after hours in a crowded plane.
The lobby/lounge area is charming and they feature a multi-course dinner every evening for only €15. I signed up for tonight.
I repacked my backpack and in spite of it weighing 25 pounds it is well-balanced and not “overstuffed“. Part of that weight consists of the electronics and camera stuff that allow me to make these posts. It is likely that I will be transporting my pack over the course of at least part of the Camino. I don’t feel compelled to carry it “every step of the way“… Been there and done that.
I’m certain that once you see these pictures of the Plaza, Cathedral, and street scenes in the vicinity, you will remember our visit here in 2018. I really think that we should plan a trip to Lisbon and spend not less than a week here before heading elsewhere.
The weather is spectacular today and the waterfront beautiful. Sailboats, tourists, the 100+ year old trolleys, street performers, and even a random submarine!
I climbed to the top of the main monument and was rewarded with a panoramic view. I even got to see the workmen servicing the clock tower mechanism.
I stopped in a shop and took away a “Bacalhau”. It’s kind of a fried ball-like sandwich made from dried salted cod, cheese, and other ingredients. It’s the only real meal I’ve had yet today but it was wonderful! You would’ve hated it.
The ingredients
The “sandwiches”
Language has not been a problem. I spent most of the afternoon wandering about and I have yet to really “connect“ with anyone. Our “sister”, Kris, flew into Porto today and has booked an apartment in the vicinity of my accommodations. In spite of the fact that she has been hiking England, Scotland, and France over the past 3 months, she says she’s not yet ready to return to Denver. We’re going to talk on Sunday about whether she might accompany me on part or all of my walk. She has a friend who lives on the coast of Spain and she may elect to stay there. This has got to be at least the 10th Camino for Kris. She has forwarded me a list of lodgings on the trail that she has stayed at in the past, both recommended and to be avoided.
I made it to the 12th Century Cathedral and secured my credential, complete with a stamp for Lisbon. I lit a candle (the lowest on the right), said a prayer… and then quickly ducked to avoid any random lightning strikes. None came.
Dinner was wonderful! I shared table with five other people, three young ladies from Italy, and two gentlemen, one a German/Italian and the other (seated to my right) a Brazilian environment scientist now living in the Czech Republic. €15 bought each of us a home-cooked Portuguese feast. I think you would’ve probably passed on the salt fish. Both gentlemen spoke fluent German so I got a little practice in.
A highly styled chocolate mousse.
Beyond breakfast at the hostel I don’t have any real plan for tomorrow other than to wander the streets of this wonderful city. Until then, Sleep well!
Love You, Me.
PS. Many of you who are reading “over our shoulders” know that Kris has been a part of our history for over nine years. For those who do not: We met Kris in Spain while walking the Camino in 2013. She joined us for the last five days and a deep friendship then took root. Kris and her husband, Dennis, have been guests in our home, and we have been guests in their home. In 2018 while Christine and I were in the Netherlands, Kris and Dennis were hiking cliff trails on Scotland’s Isle of Skye. It was there that Dennis tragically fell from the trail, plunging to his death on the shore below.
In 2019 Kris spent a week with us aboard the canal boat we piloted in England, and she plans to reprise that with us in 2023. She has indeed become “our sister”.
18 days and counting to my departure for Portugal. This will be my third hike to Santiago de Compostela, Spain, this time on the Portuguese coastal route. If all goes well I will hike from Porto, Portugal, to Santiago and then continue to the Atlantic coastal villages of Finisterre and Muxia before returning to Santiago. Over the course of 35 days I intend to cover about 300 miles on foot.
From Santiago I will travel to Barcelona to meet Christine in early November. Whether I transit Spain to meet her by train, plane, or bus is as yet undecided. From Barcelona we will travel aboard a Viking cruise ship to northern and western Africa, cross the Atlantic, and make ports-of-call in Brazil, Uruguay, and Argentina.
Our homecoming in Kansas City is scheduled for early December.
What, if any of this, is an adventure? What is “an adventure”? These are questions that have been running through my mind recently.
The term “adventure” is often casually thrown around to describe any number of activities. These can include everything from cross-continent travel by bicycle to a weekend outing with the family; from blue-water ocean sailing to kayaking on a small placid lake. So what qualifies anything as “an adventure”?
First of all, there can be no adventure without the participation of the “adventurer”. Adventures are measured in the context of the participant.
Walking to the mailbox is hardly an adventure, unless the person is near 100 years old, with failing balance, and dependent upon the use of a walker. My now deceased father-in-law who very nearly made it to 102, embarked upon an adventure every time he stepped out of his home.
Adventures are things typically out of the ordinary. They present aspects of risk, challenge, and uncertainty.
So, is my forthcoming venture, an “adventure”?
First of all, my travel itinerary is not so unusual for me. What is unusual is that I am proceeding solo, Christine will not be at my side. With the exception of a few short camping trips and 4 Atlantic Ocean sailing passages, we have traveled nearly 50 years together and shared our “adventures” in lockstep.
Second. I’m 70 years old. While I enjoy good health and vigor for my age, I do suffer from some conditions that raise the specter of risk, challenge, and uncertainty. Of course there are the typical age related eye and hearing issues, the morning aches that work out quickly, and balance that is not what it once was. What conjures a measure of anxiety for me are two other conditions.
Since childhood I have exhibited tremors diagnosed as Familial Essential Tremors. “Familial” in that I inherited the condition from my mother, a life-long sufferer, “essential” in that it is idiopathic with no external cause, and “tremor” which describes the uncontrollable shaking that occurs when attempting a task. It is the most common motion disorder known to medicine, with about 10% of the population exhibiting symptoms to some extent. For most people it does not impact daily life. I am not most people.
Over the last decade my “shakes” have become progressively worse. I have difficulty writing. Putting a key in a lock requires two hands, as does holding a cup or glass without spilling. I am confronted hundreds of times each day by the impact ET has upon routine tasks. I have been fortunate that Christine always helps, but she won’t be there to bail me out when I have to carry a plate of food across the room or pass the bread and butter to others sharing my table. Her absence certainly makes the coming trip more “adventurous”.
Last year I tripped one night in the dark while camping. I recovered my balance without falling to the ground, but in the process severely strained my right knee. It has not been the same ever since.
Three weeks ago while doing a 5 mile training hike in Kansas City my knee briefly locked up. I had to call Christine to pick me up. Elevating the leg and applying ice with gentle range of motion exercises brought relief, but residual pain and swelling sent me to an orthopedist. An MRI was conducted with the results, “…a complex radial and horizontal tear… of the medial meniscus… displaced meniscal fragment…”. There was more, but you get the point. I am scheduled for surgery in mid-December.
I have continued my daily training walks of 5-7 miles without further incident, but that one experience three weeks ago gives me pause. Christine will not be a phone call away should I be unable to hike.
Risk, challenge, uncertainty. These things will all be present in ways that are unusual for me. Yes, this is an adventure and I face it by choice. I’ve been asked “Why” to which I reply, “Don’t put off until tomorrow the things you may then find you are unable to do.” I will soon find out if I am unable to do this.
Peace Everyone. Pete
PS. We each share in common the two greatest adventures. One begins with the first breath we take, and the second begins with the last.
We are back on the road to Kansas City after spending 2 wonderful nights in Ottawa, Canada’s capital city. We spent this time visiting our dear friends, Tom Shillington and Nanci Burns.
We first met them in 2018 while hiking the Camino in Portugal
and they then joined us piloting a canal boat in England in 2019.
Tom and I both turned 70 this last spring. In honor of our milestones Tom bought tickets for us to zip-line 1,200 feet across the Ottawa River, crossing the provincial line from Quebec to Ontario.
It was riotous good fun!! Please share the experience through the above pictures and this video!
