16 November

The not so innocents abroad...

In just a few hours we head to visit my German cousin Erika, who lives in Sankt Peter in the Black Forest. When we picked out the dates and bought the airline tickets and reserved the rental car, the weather there, as here, was lovely. Now it looks as though we may be heading into some real winter weather, with snow and freezing temperatures predicted. Erika already has a plan if the weather is bad--we will go to the schwimmbad for the day! And Bill has checked hotels in Basel for the night before we are due to fly back, just in case.

I'm not saying we're a little worried, but...we did go ahead and buy the warmest coats in stock at one of the big shopping malls. For some unknown reason, there were no really warm coats for women, so I was forced to purchase the smallest man's jacket I could find. If it was in white, I would look like the Pillsbury dough boy. As stiff and massive as it is, I hope I don't have to make any intricate moves while I am wearing it. Bill has yet to find gloves, and keeps talking about bulking up so we can survive the blizzards, and so on. Talk about embellishment!

We continue to have great adventures around Porto. We generally begin our day at the bus stop sometime between 9 and 10am. We have learned to pay no attention to the posted pick-up times, and are always prepared to wait. The buses are quite nice, clean and modern. Some run on electricity, some on natural gas, and the rest on gasoline. The drivers are well-trained not to stop for anyone who is not already at the bus stop. Even if you are really close and are running to get there and are a senior citizen and...but you get the picture. 

Our bus trips have taken us all over the city. We sometimes have a plan and sometimes we just stumble on something good. Like last week, when we were able to quickly get in to see the World's Most Beautiful Bookstore (La Libreria Mas Bonita Del Mundo). We arrived in the afternoon, there was hardly any line (usually it is quite a long wait), and we really enjoyed this beautiful place. Afterwards, to regain our strength (and bulk up!) we got Grande gelatos at a fabulous little place right next door. We should be good for the German winter!

My favorite food in Portugal is the bread. Absolutely. The little grocery store just a block from our apartment has loaf after loaf after loaf, all different--and each one I have tried is fantastic. They have a slicing machine right there, with picture directions, so we don't need to speak Portuguese to understand how to work it. Still, some Portuguese customers take the bread from our hands and put it through the machine for us, only allowing us to choose the thickness of the slices (step #2, or maybe #3?). Perhaps they grow impatient waiting for these old Americans to simply get on with it, already!

One most interesting thing was learning that the woman in the grocery store who handles the pastries (we are forced to go there often, it's right next to the bread machine, and, remember, we are trying to bulk up) speaks wonderful English. In fact, she told us she had a degree in English. I asked her if she had ever tried teaching, and she told us it was difficult in Portugal, because anyone who wants to teach must accept any position within the country, and cannot stay in their own hometown. 

Just one more thing before I post this. There are pigeons and gulls and song birds all over the place here, and one lovely resident stray cat that all the neighbors feed. Dulcinho (Sweetie) has full run of the outdoors and always greets newcomers who might have brought her a tasty tidbit. I want to be a good neighbor, so Dulcinho had a bit of cod tonight. 

That's all from the gang in Porto--

Bloated Lory, Bulky Bill...and Dulcinho

Serralves Estate Museum and Park with a "Tree-top Walk."