So much confusion

We woke up before the alarm, got to the metro ahead of schedule, found the train station and got to our platform. We read the sign that roughly indicates where you should go on the platform to board your carriage. Apparently nobody else did. 90% of those catching the train waited at the top of the escalators, so when it arrived 15 minutes late, there was a chaotic scramble (to be fair, it's very foggy so late is acceptable). 

Annette got on (as there was a break in people getting off but it was just one woman wrestling her bags holding everyone up), and then I waited as lots got off with luggage. 

European trains consistently have at least 2 steps up from the platform to make things difficult. I got on, we put our bags in the surprisingly vacant luggage racks, found our seats and watched as all hell broke loose.

People in wrong seats, the aisles packed with people going both ways, obstructed by the massive suitcase of the English woman opposite, people in wrong seats of wrong carriages. A good mornings entertainment.

Over an hour later we arrived at Coimbra. 

We got to one of the two bus ticket machines before the crowds. Of course the one we picked didn't work so a quick ticket purchase did not happen. Lined up (now in a long line) at the other ticket machine.

No matter, found a bus, found our hotel in the small town square, figured out the door codes to store our luggage and then headed to the University and the many buildings to visit. It was very good. 

I wish I could show pics of the Joanina library but photos were banned, unless you were an ignorant tourist who doesn’t give a damn. It was a cross between Hogwarts and the Sistine Chapel. We could photograph the lower level. 

What was not good was its location. Yep, way up a hill with some of the deepest, steepest stairs I have ever climbed (I think some on the Inca trail were bigger).

If my thighs and glutes weren't so fit from the first week, my knees would be in a worse state than they are now.

The trip back was downhill, except for when we entered the construction site of a new path and had to turn around and take a detour. I guess we should have read the sign.

An old toothless lady appeared out of nowhere as I sat down drinking a much needed Coke. All I could understand from here was aqua. I gave her the last dregs that were left and she downed it quickly and left. Community service complete.

I checked out the local record shops and luckily came up empty.

Dinner was at a Nepalese restaurant, of course, and back home to sleep with the sound of tourists below.

Our room overlooks the street, which is the major walkway through town.

Footnote: Things that I forgot. The lady at the nut shop was giving out free samples. The price was right so we tried some, and more and more. All the free samples were sampled. So we decided to buy something by way of recompense. When we went to pay, the price was more than advertised so we didn't buy. But at least our intentions were good.

Sunday morning 7am

The laundry opens at 7am. We set our alarm for 7am. At 7:15am, the shutters were still down. Then miraculously, as we were about to leave, the shutters went up.

But the magic entry button was not lit up. We couldn't get in. For the best part of an hour we kept checking. Half the lights for entry appeared but the entry button did not work. 

At 10am we walked out of another laundry with clean dry clothes and a saving of 10 euros in our pockets.

Google reviews will be used.

Off we went on foot around Porto. We walked the upper deck of yesterday's lower deck bridge walk and mainly wandered the streets.

To our delight, Taco Bell were celebrating National Taco Week and at 1 euro each, we could afford 2 each. We were a bit dubious but they were really nice.

Did I forget the Editor buying another 6 Portuguese tarts (or as they call them in Portugal, tarts)? That's 13 so far, but who's counting (Editor'snote: Actually Mark ate 2 of them).

The constant uphill grind is taking its toll so we rested up for dinner.

The local favourite is a meat sandwich covered in cheese with a tomato, beer soup in a bowl. We had the veal and it was very good, as were the herbed wedges that accompanied. The dish is called Francesinha. Yum.

We climbed our last hill of the Porto visit before heading to flatter ground.

The 500 Bus

Today was pronounced as Public Transport Saturday, our attempt to save the legs, especially for the bridge climb at the end of the day.

After struggling to figure out how to buy a day ticket for the public transport system, we hopped on the Metro for a trip to the flea markets. Success for me to the tune of 2 records and some Portuguese magazines.

Then back onto the Metro for 150m until we either hit a car or broke down. Whatever it was, they finally announced the problem in Portuguese, everyone got off and we headed on a 15 minute walk to a metro, where thankfully we got a service back near home.

Portuguese Tart refuelling complete, we headed back out with our cut lunch, dropped by a restaurant to check on our reservation status, then got a bus and walked across the lower level of a bridge, uphill (of course) to a monastery, downhill via lots of stairs to the river, and caught a bus back to as close to home as possible. Nothing like a one and a half seater for 2 people. Up and down, but it beats walking. 

Public transport is great.

Siesta time, because 'When in Rome', and out we headed via bus to the Crystal Palace Gardens perched on top of a hill for great views and bird watching.

We walked down a large hill, through little roadways and tried to catch a tram to our bridge climb. Of course our day ticket doesn't work on the trams, so we put our faith in the bus service. It wasn't coming for ages, so we walked.

Bridge climb found, we donned our helmets and harnesses and did the 262 steps up, took photos, drank the complimentary port served in a chocolate cup, because to get to the chocolate you have to go through the port.

There is no port left, was how Dad explained which side of a boat was the left side.

If you're in Porto, do yourself a favour and do the climb.

We then headed for the bus stop and cheated death running across the road to catch the 500 bus. Missed it by that much. Of course it left early. The next 500 bus was 15 minutes away for about the next 20 minutes. When it did arrive, it chose not to stop. The guide from the climb was there and explained that this is what the 500 bus does all the time.

Plan B was the 403 bus. Its reported arrival was between 30 minutes and never.

Plan C was to walk up the hill through even smaller dimly lit cobblestoned roads and catch the 200 bus.

It was due in 14 minutes and then miraculously turned up immediately. 

Our small walk back home required ice cream fuel.

Turkey kebabs for dinner with way too many frozen peas and carrots and our day using public transport was done.

Over 25,000 steps were used in the making of today's blog.

Footnote: We packed light so we were going to use the laundry at the front of the building when we got back. It was too late and we are exhausted so we will do it at 7am Sunday morning.