When in Porto

The tickets had been purchased, and that is the only reason I knew this trip was happening. The family – okay, actually the mother is one of those people that are all talk with little action. I couldn’t even begin to recall the places and trips she had told me we were going on, without them ever actually going through. So when they told me we would be visiting Portugal in a couple weeks, I was a bit skeptical.

The trip was dated two weeks before my departure back home to the States. Oh yeah, incase you readers didn’t know, I purchased my ticket home (I’ll write a post pertaining to that story later). Anyways, the trip would be a quick one, we would be staying in Porto for two nights, which was fine by me. I was just happy to be able to visit Portugal, seeing as it had been on my list since I arrived. Plus, with the limited amount of days, that also meant limited amount of annoyances, inappropriate comments or discussions to be had between the mother and I. But I was wrong, two nights is more than enough time for the mother to be inappropriate.

I have been aware that part of me was hired to watch over their child, but the other part was to fill in this role for the mother as a friend, companion, etc. I completely understand she needs some separation and time away from the baby and husband (even though, if I’m being honest, shes rarely ever with the baby solo) but I digress. Sometimes parents just need a little break, and I sympathize. Unfortunately for me, I am always the one that is required to accompany her during these times, and they always seem to happen when we are on holiday. Belgium, where she didn’t tell anyone we were with that she was married, or had a baby, or that I actually worked for her taking care of her child… she instead gave the impression we were together and that we lived together in Paris. Similar thing happened in Austria, but it was a bit more obvious than the previous trip. Now comes Portugal, and apparently port wine takes things to an entirely new level for the mother.

Let me paint the picture- we go out for some drinks, and the mother has hopes to find a more ‘lively’ spot to drink and dance, so we go to the nearest hotel and ask the concierge. Correction, she asks. She is the only one doing the talking. After the patient man, kindly answers each one of the mothers ridiculous questions, she has to end it on some extremely awkward and inappropriate note. She leaves him with the question of, “so are there any lesbian bars around?” I sure hope no one reads this and takes this the wrong way. My only intention with mentioning this whole incident, is the fact that the mother has now on multiple occasions, implied her and I were a couple. This time, she didn’t beat around the bush, she actually spoke the words, in order to make it clear to bystanders that we were together. Needless to say, the night ended quickly after that happend.

The weird moments aside, I fell in love with Portugal. It was unlike any place I’ve been to. It isn’t extravagant in its beautifully carved out architecture, painted with gold. There are no royal looking buildings, but more so rundown, colorful apartment buildings, with fresh laundry hanging out most of the windows to air dry. After visiting Portugal, I realized that there are many versions of what a ‘beautiful city’ looks like. While yes, Paris has an obvious allure, and beauty to it, so does Portugal. Money doesn’t necessarily make or break a city in regards to it’s charm and eye appeal.
We spent the majority of our second and last day, under the humid air in the Port caves.  We learned about the three varieties of port, how they are produced and where.  We followed each one of these tours, with a tasting. Which essentially was a time to sit down, and drink three different ports, during the hot weather.  So if you do the math, three different caves, 9 different ports, and hot weather = a massive headache later in the day.  That headache was probably much worse than it should have been, considering the mother poured all her ports into my glasses while I was up away with the baby, so I technically had double the tastings in one sitting. Thanks mother of the child. 

I hope the beginning of this post didn’t come off as whiny, or ungrateful for the trips I’ve been able to be apart of with the family, because that couldn’t be further from the truth. I simply want to remember these little stories, even if they are weird at times.

Some of my favorite things about Porto or that happened here can be found in bullet form below.

-You can dine like Kings & Queens. You can enjoy a meal of appetizers, entree, dessert and wine, for under 15 euros. That is insanity
-When you are at a restaurant, and the server places olives and bread on your table (without offering, or you asking) do not assume they are on the house. More than likely, they will charge you if you touch them.
-Port wine can only be produced in the Douro Valley. Quite similar to the production of champagne (only being able to be produced in the champagne region of France)
-Port wine is sweeter than regular wine, because in the bottling process, they add a spirit to stop fermentaiton, to preserve the sweetness of the grapes
-Cod is one of the main proteins they serve with typical Portuguese foods.
-The houses and apartments go up, instead of out
-Men take shots of whiskey during their lunch breaks
-People are generally very friendly, and welcoming here. Eager to share information about their city and country, and especially their food/port.
-Portugal is a large producer of olives, and amazing olive oils
-Almonds are another item they produce in high quantities
-The mothers lunch getting eaten by a seagull when she was off at the restroom

   
  

                                      

Thoughts on Normandy

I have been given some amazing opportunities to travel outside of Paris, since arriving here last Spring. Having more time to travel was one of the reasons I decided to extend my time here. Unfortunatly, since having a little hiccup with my visa, I am now restricted to travel in the country limits of France – I know, poor me. Seeing as there are dozens of places that are still on my list to see in Frenchie-land, I was excited to have a few days off to go and explore the region of Normandy.

I am freshly coming down from my Normandy holiday high. Day dreaming of the buckwheat crêpes, regional cidre and pommeau, and the oh so glorious tarte tatin. I can still recall the seagulls squawking loudly along the shoreline, and being welcomed by friendly “bonjour’s” from all the locals. I went to visit the towns of Deauville and Trouville. The towns are separated by water, which you can cross over on one of the bridges. Both towns were so adorable, and quaint, I fell in love with them. The architecture reminded me of gingerbread houses, carefully orchestrated, and painted in colorful paint. I starred wide eyed at the thick window paneling, framing the large windows. Each house presented a unique, and friendly front door, to which I later got made fun of for taking “so many photos of doors”. Wait until you see them, and you will understand. One thing I found so funny was how surprised I was to be greeted by people driving in their cars, actually stopping at crosswalks to allow us to pass. Having come from Oregon, where this is a necessity I had a bit of culture shock coming to Paris where it is the opposite. People will nearly run you over, even if you have a green sign to cross. I suppose Oregon took notes (or vice versa) from Deauville-Trouville in regards to allowing pedestrians to walk safely.

I surprisingly got to continue my hunt for good coffee, moving outside of Paris, to Deauville.  I stumbled across the most adorable little cafe; filled with  live plants as decor, wood tables to rest at, and modest, eggshell colored ceramic cups to sip your superb flat white out of.  Their small patio in the back was the perfect place to sit and enjoy the atmosphere, and the delicious coffee.  It was such an unexpected bonus on my already lovely trip. 

I have read that the town of Deauville is to Paris, as what the Hampton’s are to New York. Apparently Deauville is the place where Parisians escape the hustle and bustle of the city, to go get some R&R, only a couple hours away in the beach limits of Deauville. The town is known for its horse races, which also adds to the posh appeal of the town. I have heard that during the summer months of Late June-August, this area is often packed. I avoided any of the crowds, by going a few weeks early, which was just divine. I could wander down the streets of the town, sometimes walking for ten minutes without even seeing another soul. While I do admit it felt a bit weird, as if we were in some sort of ghost town, it was lovely to hear some peace and quiet without the constant honking of cars in Paris in the background.

I unfortunately didn’t make it down to the historical parts of the American memorial site, due to not having a car. I would love to go back to the region, to go and explore some of the other areas, but the lack of car made it more difficult in getting to go and explore more outside of where my feet would take me. Overall, the trip was a lovely one, filled with amazing food, and fond memories.

If you make it to Paris, you too can also enjoy all the things Deauville-Trouville offers. You can simply take a short two hour train ride from Gare Saint Lazare, directly to the town. If you plan it right, you can also score these tickets for under €40 round trip.