After breakfast we have a big conversation with the man at reception about what we should do and how we might get into Porto without being caught in a situation of narrow streets and no parking. No problem, he says. Today is Saturday and there will be parking a-plenty at no charge. We are skeptical. He also suggests that we take a look at the Amarante market across the little stone bridge from the hotel.
Not to let the guy at the desk down, we walk across the bridge to a rather large market. Lots of clothes, shoes, gardening equipment, vegetables, fish, etc. I am, however, curious about an item I have read about in Wikipedia. It seems that Saint Goncalvo, the patron saint of Amarante, is kind of like the cupid of saints. He is also the patron saint of hemorrhoid sufferers, so kind of a multi-tasker. Anyway, on his saint day there is a big festival in Amarante with couples exchanging phallic pastries. And there they are at the Amarante market. I just could not bring myself to buy one of these giant pastries, probably at least a foot long. But I have found a picture of them on the internet that I will share.
We also enjoy looking at the octopus which has been a participant in John’s lunch. We just don’t see a big counterful of octopi at the Pleasanton farmer’s market.
Having fulfilled our duty to the deskman, we are off to Porto. We are still worried about finding a parking space but when we get there, voila, right by the cathedral there is a space. Our first stop is at the cathedral where the people inside are waiting for the bride. Maybe she got hung up in the traffic.
This cathedral, like the others we have seen on this trip, is a Romanesque fortress-like structure with crenelation above its rose window. The interior has massive pillars to hold up its stone roof with flying buttresses to help allay the weight of the roof. Using the flying buttress was a major innovation in this cathedral.
We wait a bit to see if the bride will show but no luck. Stopping in at Visitor Information, we find out that Porto is built mostly on a high cliff overlooking the Rio Douro. There are a lot of stairs leading down to the river’s edge. The oldest section, the Ribeira, hugs the shoreline. From there one can also access the lower bridge across the river to Vila de Gaia where the port caves are located. There is no way we want to move the car from our primo parking space so we take to the stairs.
We decide to have some lunch before tasting some port. We stop in at a family-run restaurant and decide to try local dishes of baccala. Mine is grilled and John’s is baked and they are both horrible. I do not even take a picture. Salty, bony fish with, in my case, greasy, fried, sliced potatoes, some cooked through some raw, and pickled vegetables. John only fares a little better. Tomorrow we are planning on eating a big breakfast and skipping lunch. So far it has been a waste of euros.
As it turns out, now the port caves are closed for lunch and they only port you can get you have to pay for. I have not walked down all those stairs and crossed the scary bridge for nothing and we sit down at Sandeman’s outdoor cafe and have a glass of tawny imperial reserve. It is only three euros.
Later in the evening after a well-deserved nap, we look for a place for dinner. We walk around the immediate neighborhood but nothing appeals to us. We repair to the hotel bar where we have a glass of wine and split a grilled cheese sandwich. Oh, haute cuisine!