Running, Walking, and Pub-Crawling through Porto

I definitely smell like feet.  Like not just a little bit of me, all of me.  I don’t know where it’s coming from exactly but I have a pretty good idea that the root cause is my running shoes which I (not strategically) packed in a plastic bag right after going for a run before hopping on the plane in Seattle.  I’ll spare you the details but I don’t think freshly-worn athletic shoes make for a great smelling bag, nor do they have a great effect on any of the items in said bag.

I’m really reconsidering that mini-Febreeze I saw in the Target travel aisle and thought, “meh…I won’t need that.”  The guy next to me on the train is also wishing I hadn't been so dismissive of that genius 3 oz bottle.

Playing I spy...solo traveler version.

I’m currently on my way back to Lisbon from the northern city of Porto to meet my friends who land this evening.  Porto is a magnificent city placed right on the Douro River; it’s most famously known as the home of port wine, of which there is plenty to be had.  And of which, I had plenty.  The city itself is picturesque and beautiful. It’s a mixture of old and new with cobblestone roads and walkways winding in every direction up their river-side hills.  The streets are littered with university students pouring out of bars, tourists wandering aimlessly, and locals sipping coffee and lounging at outdoor cafes. 

The view from my Airbnb apartment in Porto.

Port wine caves at the Calem winery.

This city has seen a boom of tourists in the last few years and it’s clear they've taken advantage of the popularity.  The people in Porto seem a little jaded by this; not necessarily amused or intrigued by the influx of strangers to their beloved city.  Half the locals I crossed paths with were less than pleased with questions, my interest in the city & the food, etc.  Not that they were rude, they just weren't friendly.  And the other half of the locals were overjoyed by my interest in their city and all the wonderful things it has to offer.

Ze bota in Porto - awesome food, but less than friendly service.

Oh city bus tours, how I love you so!

A personal bus all to myself again!

One such local was named Rui, the tour guide of the pub crawl my good friend recommended. I think Rui and I hit it off at the beginning of the tour when I made it clear I was more concerned about finding food than I was about the first drink on the stop.  So it goes when you’re not 22 anymore.  I did, however, enjoy the night-long journey around town – dipping into cute bars and stopping finally at a night club (gasp) – how long has it been since I did THAT?!

New friends on the pub crawl.  Sandwich in hand.

Despite my lack of initial interest in a pub crawl, I ended up going because: (a) it was highly recommended, (b) I wanted to meet some friendly locals & tourists, and (c) life is short.  It ended up being a great experience; I made some great travel connections and new friends.

Thought of the day is a simple one and a classic…carpe diem.  When the next random opportunity presents itself to you, instead of asking “why?” ask “why not?!”  And also – always say yes to Febreeze.

Same Same but Different

(Written on 5/5/2011 from Eilat, Israel)

FOREWARNING: Splashing water from the Dead Sea into your eyes hurts……HURTS.  Not advisable.

But, after breaking my trusty, well-worn sandals the minute I touched the Dead Sea water, it was hard to keep my elephant feet from flailing water all over the place.  So when it bounced up into my eye and burned like $*#^@, I had to keep them shut and hobble over to the fresh water showers with my cousin guiding me like a blind man.

Luckily, unless you’re as clumsy as me, it’s difficult to actually get the water in your eyes since you naturally just bob around on top of the water. Robin and I entertained ourselves for a few hours soaking in the natural minerals (literally), and playing in the mud baths like a bunch of pigs, until we lost track of time and our tour bus almost left without us.

Hanging out at the Dead Sea

Robin floating around

Broken sandals :(  they were so good to me for 3 months...

Salt formations at the Dead Sea

Nothing like a good mud fight!

Our day tour began with a trip to Masada, a fortress built on the top of a hill in the Judean Desert.  It’s known as a palace built by King Herod, and also for the later resistance of the Jewish refugees during the Roman takeover.  Although I’m not normally a fan of tours, it was fascinating to walk amongst ruins that were still intact and well preserved, and to learn about the community of 960 who chose death over slavery by taking their own lives before being conquered.

At the top of Masada looking over the Dead Sea

And after a day of awe-full (not awful) moments…we ended with a bus ride back to Jerusalem, while I stared out the window, hoping for more sights of wandering camels in the desert.  

With the power of connections a friend of mine in Seattle introduced me to his cousin who is studying with a rabbi in Jerusalem.  Eager to meet up with David for shawarma and beer, Robin and I washed off the Dead Sea residue at the hotel and hopped a bus in to town.  After dinner, David took us to the Old City where he even showed us the house that he stays in….with the courtyard that opens up to the tomb of King David, with the room of the Last Supper directly above it, and a Mosque on top of that - a true testament to the fact that 3 religions can in fact live together in harmony and peace.

Robin and David

David was extremely knowledgeable and was a great tour guide – even allowing Robin and I to feel safe to ask any questions since he wouldn’t judge or deem any of them “stupid.”  J  We strolled through the cobble stone paths in the Old City making our way down to the Western Wall, where men and women were praying separately through all hours of the night. 

The Western Wall

As we observed our surroundings with open eyes, ears, and hearts we stood awe struck at the holiest of places.

David then took us over to a wedding on Mount Zion….where, once again, I felt like Vince Vaughan and Owen Wilson.  Robin and I looked totally out of place in our casual attire, but we were still welcomed warmly (even by the bride’s father) to join the group for dancing and food.  I’m pretty sure if it was my pops shelling out the big bucks he would have shooed away any random tourist moochers.



The new couple!



Wedding Crashers

After a fully packed day (now it included camel spotting, the Dead Sea, Masada, shawarma, the Old City of Jerusalem, and an Israeli wedding)…we headed back to the hotel to make it just in time for midnight.  We rang in the 10^th anniversary of Robin’s 21^st birthday with a bottle of wine, robes and slippers in the Crowne Plaza (ultra luxurious as far as my travels were concerned), and complimentary chocolates that we had saved for the celebration.

As we finished off 2 glasses of red each, and Bruce Willis finished off his opponents in “Red”, we slipped under the covers and fell fast asleep.

A Bar Mitzvah at the Western Wall

Made friends with a few Israeli army guys

In the morning we abused the breakfast buffet at the hotel before heading off to see the Old City during the day.  The thing that surprised me most about Jerusalem is the modernization of the city…the malls, and hotels and restaurants and traffic.  Road rage is an understatement for how I felt on the bus.  And patience may be a virtue, but it’s definitely not my strong suit.

After a painfully long 1 hour and 12 minute bus ride (yes…I counted) that should have taken TEN minutes…we packed up our stuff and headed out to Eilat – the very southern tip of Israel just between Egypt and Jordan.  If I would consider Jerusalem to be “night” then Eilat is definitely “day.” 

In 4 hours, we jumped from an extremely conservative city to one that looked like Vegas.  As we rolled into Eilat on the bus I couldn’t tell if the Luxor was ahead of us, or if it was a real pyramid with a light shooting out of the center.  Truth be told - it was neither, but I couldn’t help envisioning the first time I flew into Vegas with city lights aglow beckoning all the partiers.  I liken Eilat to the “Miami” of Israel – beaches, bikini clad girls, and a row of hotels ready to serve the next eager vacationer.



Out for Robin's birthday in Eilat



It amazes me that in so many parts of the world there is so much diversity in such a close proximity.  And although we are all very different in some ways…at the end of the day we are all human, and more similar than you might think.  We all have the same biological needs and desires - they are just manifested in different ways. 

Today I encourage you to think about other people in terms of your similarities.  Many times we observe people in terms of our differences – religion, race, nationality, language, socio-economic status, etc., but there is so much more to who we are than those traits that are easily recognizable on the surface.  How often do you relate to somebody (especially strangers) by what you have in common? 

Love at First Sight

(Written on 4/10/2011 from Barcelona, Spain)

I failed to mention that upon my crazy Friday night “I’m going to buy a ticket to Barcelona for Monday” epiphany, I got in touch with my friend Cristian who is living there now.  We met in Chile when I lived there in 2006 and became fast friends.  We travelled to Buenos Aires together, went Salsa dancing together, and had too many nights of good food and fabulous wine.

So when I broke the news that I was headed his way, Cristian invited me to stay with him, reassuring me that there would be plenty to do in Barcelona even though he would be busy during the day with work and school. 

Once again, I was met at the airport by yet another welcoming, hospitable friend.  (Side note: I really need to reconsider my pace of life at home and “pull up to the curb” mentality.  My friends that come to visit probably deserve a parked car and warm welcoming at baggage claim.  Oh, remember the good ole days when you could stand outside the gate and wave signs and run and give hugs to people getting off the plane?!  Wow….side tracked.)

My week in Barcelona was like a Queen’s vacation – I was treated like royalty and not allowed to lift a finger.  On my second day Cristian found out he had “worked enough” for the week and could take off time to hang out with me.  Score!  Vacation for me, and vacation for him too.



Cristian whipping up some food in the kitchen

A feast on my first night!

We headed out to the famous Barcelona market, La Boqueria, and I fell in love.  I’ve always believed in love at first sight…and it’s fitting that of course my first “love at first sight” moment was with a market.  After drooling over chocolates, cured meats (my fave), cheeses (another fave), olives, herbs, seafood, candies, fruits, and everything else…I finally settled on a fresh squeezed mango and kiwi juice. 

It.  Changed.  My.  Life.  

Ooooooh the sweet combination of two delightful fruits.  My destiny had been sealed….I returned to the market everyday while in Barcelona just for the sweet taste of Mango-Kiwi.  And on my last day I literally ran to the market for fear that they might close early and I would miss my last opportunity for my Mango-Kiwi fling.  Fear not, friends….I made it just in time.

Love...

My week in Barcelona was filled with highs – tapas at Cristian’s apartment, copious amounts of Spanish wine, trips to the beach, restaurant upon restaurant upon restaurant with flavors from all over the world, being introduced to “The Big Bang Theory” series, stumbling upon impromptu jam sessions from bands and opera singers on the streets, laughing over episodes of “Friends”, getting lost and walking all over Barcelona, and melting over the ever so delicious and beautiful pintxos.



Doing what I do best...at the Areperia



Pintxos!  Pick a toothpick....any toothpick!

Pintxos are a snack that is typical in the Basque Country.  They are mostly served in bars and taverns and come in a variety of flavors usually atop a nice slice of baguette bread.  And then they put a cute little toothpick in it.  So you can take a plate and walk up and down the bar selecting your “prey”, if you will, and then once you are done they count up your toothpicks and pay by the number of pintxos you have “mauled” (or at least in my case).  I was definitely a sucker for the combinations of cheese, tuna, lemon, peppers, salmon, etc.  Most of them are gastronomical delights and have been created ever so creatively to excite the taste buds.

On my last night in Barcelona (after a week full of wining and dining me), Cristian topped it off with the famous Tortilla de Papas – a famous Spanish egg dish with potatoes.  Thanks to him you can recreate on your own!



Tortilla de Papas



The majority of my trip revolved around inside jokes, reliving laughable memories from 2006, and just having a great time with a great friend...oh yeah, and obviously the Mango-Kiwi (notice the capitalization).  Although Cristian and I haven’t stayed in touch consistently…our friendship picked up right where it left off.  I’m so thankful for him, and my trip, and my opportunity to “meet” Barcelona.  He gave me a warm welcome and phenomenal introduction to a city in which I'm certain I will return.

Today my request is that you think of a friend from your past that you have lost contact with.  Often times we lose touch with people because it’s no longer convenient…we move away, we start new jobs, we meet new people, we get into relationships, we start families, and some friendships fade away and get lost in the blur of everything new that occupies our time.  Just because that happens doesn’t mean that you’re not meant to be friends…

I urge you to reach out and say “hello” or at least leave them a Facebook message (because I know you’re probably on FB right now and that isn’t too much to ask!) to say that they’re on your mind and you hope they’re well.  Spread the love.  J

I'm All Alone

(Written on 3/29/2011 from Athens, Greece)

Today was the first day I’ve ever been met with disdain because of my nationality.  In all the places in the world I’ve been with different races, ethnicities, religions and beliefs, the first place somebody validated my feelings of “I should be ashamed because I’m American” was on my flight to Athens. 

After trying to make friends with an older Greek lady sitting next to me on the plane, she jumped at the opportunity to scold me for America's interference in Libya.  Although I know a bit about what's going on, it's been difficult to keep up...especially since I don't understand the news in Arabic. :)  Since I had little room to neither defend the U.S. position nor agree with her position, I let the comments pass.  In the end she came around and made sure to point out which items on my meal plate were worth eating (honey & yogurt were her recommendations).

It was an educational experience for me though...to meet somebody who would openly admit that they're not a fan of America.  I felt like her perception of America was much like the "annoying little sibling"... a country that doesn't understand the impact and importance of its actions.  At the same time, it made me think a lot about how much media influences our perceptions of other countries and cultures.  There's much more below the surface but I will revisit at a later date because I'm just too excited about the rest of my first day in Greece...

As I sat overlooking the Acropolis at a table adorned with a white table cloth and more silverware than I knew what to do with, I couldn’t help but chuckle as the waiter brought me a glass of ‘special’ wine, not on the menu.  I must have looked like a food critic since I was alone and writing feverishly in a notebook.  I can't think of any other reason for the "above and beyond" treatment I received at a posh restaurant, especially since most people in the restaurant looked like they came from a wedding (or a funeral) and I was dressed as if I showered and threw on the first thing I could find.  This is, however, true.  And I’m quite proud that I even managed the shower part.

Eating alone is a magical thing – and one that I’m still getting used to.  As a “relationship mammal” who is constantly craving conversation, attention, connection, confirmation (and many other –tion ending words) sitting alone over a meal doesn’t come naturally to me.  Thankfully, my internal dialogue keeps me pretty entertained and I don't dwell on the empty chair opposite me.  Side note: there isn’t actually a chair across from me.  Apparently this was the table “made for one.”

Although I feed off of other people and interaction, it’s sometimes nice to have a moment to myself.  To watch others converse, smile, love, eat.  I can’t understand a lick of Greek – but I can understand the expressions on every face in this packed, fancy, stylish restaurant.  Playing witness to the 20 conversations going on around me I have this feeling of warmth and connection even without anybody to speak to (and let’s face it…we all know I can taaaaalk.)

My starter was a Greek caviar dish with lemon...tasty but a little too rich for me.  It was followed by a Greek traditional Moussaka - it's like a casserole with eggplant, meat and cheese on top that is thrown in the oven for just enough time to make it a nice golden brown crispy delight!

Greek caviar - why two piles?  Not sure.

Moussaka

I feel like eating carbs should be a way of life…like a religion.  I mean, Dr. Atkins had it all wrong when he tried to strike carbs from the diet.  What a woeful way to go!  Don’t get me wrong...I’ve been experiencing my own weight gain but in a lack of concern for impressing others, I’m blissfully taking on the extra pounds.  As Sarra from Tunisia said, it’s a sign of being well taken care of. 

I look around and think that if I were young, rich and Greek this would be the kind of place I would come for celebrations – birthdays (on Dad’s dime), anniversaries, graduations, etc.  And yet here I am...young (at least I would say so), not rich (we always want more, right?), and not Greek (obviously) but enjoying a night alone with some great Greek food and conversation (eavesdropping) on my first night in Athens.

Thought for you today...I encourage you to go out for a meal by yourself, especially if you've never done it before.  Instead of being uncomfortable because of what others might think, just ask yourself if you really care when others are eating by themselves?  No.  You're occupied with your food, the person you're talking to, or the conversations around you.  Take a book, a notebook or nothing at all (and especially not your cell phone)...have a moment alone with your thoughts, or write and reflect about your day, or just revel in the joy of others around you.  Let me know how it goes. ;)And after 3 breadsticks, 3 dinner rolls, my starter, entree, a glass of Greek wine, and a cappuccino later (darn you, Katie) I’m happy as a bee in a honey pot.

Beautiful People

(Written on 3/20/2011 from Cape Town, South Africa)


I sunk my teeth into the third pizza I'd had in about 12 hours....sublime happiness.  We started our 2nd day in Plett Bay with lunch at a small café we found in the quaint, cute town.  We drowned ourselves in the luxurious pizza - with chicken, bacon (yum...pig), brie, cranberry, mozzarella, and Italian spices.  And a salad that I will have to recreate - let's just call it the "Plett Bay Salad" [recipe]. 

The "Plett Bay Salad"

We left Plett Bay in search of ellies (a.k.a. elefantes, a.k.a. elephants) and then decided to skip Mossel Bay and drive straight through to Cape Town that night.  We paused for a beautiful sunset along the drive, and then again for KFC (hey…it’s all we could find out there) before getting turned around in Cape Town at the wee hours of the morning.  Stephan, the owner of the hostel we were staying at, helped navigate us by phone until we finally pulled up to Amber Tree Lodge.  We knew we were in the right place when Stephan jumped out of the gate waving and excited that we had finally arrived.  I like his enthusiasm.


Riding ellies

Feeding ellies

Ellie snout!



Pettng ellies

Playing with ellies!

After a long, restful sleep Katie and I decided we (and our waistbands) were in desperate need of a little exercise.  We heard that the hike up Lion’s Head was a quick 45 minute jaunt up the hill to a spectacular view so we headed out at 2:00 PM in the 90+ degree weather.  We must have been the only idiots on the mountain picking the hottest time of day to hike up one of the tallest peaks in Cape Town.  45 minutes my ass.  Maybe for a marathon runner, or a cheetah...not for Annie Cheng and Katie Petersen. 

I’m not exactly sure how long it took us to hike – but I do know that Katie nearly passing out half way up the mountain definitely extended our trip.  I told her that since we were obviously not expecting such a challenging hike (seriously – I felt like I was trying to summit Everest without any preparation) maybe we should come back when we were well hydrated, had more water and food (and perhaps tents and sleeping bags) and when it was less hot.

She told me she felt fine and she could go on.  I reminded her that this was her opportunity to go back down and that I was being a good friend.  But if she kept going, and pushing her body beyond what it wanted, and then passed out, that she should remember that I would be the person who would have to figure out how to get her off of this monstrosity of a mountain without a cell phone or proper human carrying device.  And that when she woke up in the hospital she better not be upset when I’m staring down at her with evil eyes – ticked off that she didn’t take the opportunity to go down when she could.  Once again...a testament to how great of a friend I am.







We made it!

 Despite my stern warnings, slowly but surely we made it to the peak and had a good laugh on our way down about our extreme thirst.  Our first order of business was stopping at a gas station – where Katie bought a 2 liter Sprite Zero….for herself.  And she sipped it through a straw with the content of a child eating their first ice cream cone.

Showers were becoming more necessary with every consecutive day of blistering heat.  And especially after we defeated (or more accurately - were deafeated by) the mountain.  Later we posted up in the hostel for an amazing Braai.  Stephan showed us some great hospitality and after a full dinner of salad, meat, seafood, potatoes, and pasta, we were sold on the fact that Amber Tree Lodge was by far the best hostel either of us had ever stayed at.

Full and content, we went to sleep only to prepare ourselves for our reunion with the “FireLambs” and a day full of luxurious wine tasting and superb company.  The highlight of the day was lunch at DelAire...what I can only describe as a jaw dropping experience.  A gorgeous setting, with gorgeous food and gorgeous people...I couldn’t have asked for a better day. I was on Cloud 9 surrounded by people who gave me strength, courage, and an overwhelming feeling of joy.

Lunch at DelAire

My thought for you today...before embarking on my "rough day" of wine tasting I could have predicted a happy ending.  Not merely because of the wine, but because I knew that I would be surrounded by special people with an astounding energy and positive spirit.  I was by no means in a bad mood, but I knew that even if I was, the presence of those people would have lifted me out of my funk.  I call it "energy osmosis" when I surround myself by people with great enthusiasm.  I encourage you to think about who those people are in your life - and draw on them when you need it.

And, last but not least 2 little stories for the fun of it:

STORY #1: One night in our hostel I was talking to some cute French guy in the common room when Katie came over to tell me we should get a move on.  He didn’t speak very good English, but his accent made him sound like some sort of chivalrous knight.  Or at least that’s what Katie must have thought when she cut into our conversation by saying “Good Sir…”

While we were walking away I paused and said, “Did you really just say ‘Good Sir’ back there???!  And was it because he was French??”

I couldn't tell her answer because she was laughing hysterically – but I’m pretty sure that meant the answer was yes.

STORY #2: Katie and I were having a moment of self loathing while once again stuffing our faces and discussing that we had, in fact, been beefed up to “marrying weight” as they call it in the village.  And we kept saying the girls in Cape Town are so gorgeous – tall, skinny, beautiful, and with great style.  I started to think they must have created some sort of super human breed there.  This pocket of the world that only has beautiful people.  Katie and I decided it would be impossible to find a man in Cape Town because they would either: A) have a better offer, or B) be looking for a better offer. 

While we continued the conversation (and self loathing) at the hostel, Stephan broke in with… “You know it’s model season, right?” 

Us: “What??? Model season?  What’s that?” 

Stephan: “Yeah, a lot of companies from Europe come here to shoot commercials and stuff because it’s way cheaper….so it’s model season.”

Us: “Oooooooohhhhhhh……whewwwwww.  So Cape Town ISN’T a breeding ground for beautiful people.”

Stephan: “Well….there are still a lot of beautiful people here.”