Shivering heights
I appear to be un-jet lagged. I was awake by 7, downstairs for breakfast by 8, and out walking the streets by 9 where crowds were slim and every cafe had open tables. I made my way through all the neighborhoods I’d trekked the night before back to the Duoro River and a towering bridge that connects Porto to the neighboring town of Gaia. I was halfway across the bridge when I realized just how high I was. My knees started knocking, legs shivering as I picked up speed, passing other tourists who seemed undisturbed by the distance between river and bridge. I jogged the remaining feet, breathing deeply as my feet touched brick and cement, back on earth with substance beneath my feet. 30 minutes later, I steeled my nerves, calmed every shivering part of me and repeated the act. How many people have crossed this bridge safely? I’m glad to say I’m now one of many.
Francesinha
Every cafe in Porto has their own variation of this special sandwich, a local delicacy allegedly inspired by the French dish Croque Monsieur. Thick slices of bread are filled with various cuts of meat, topped with melty cheese, a savory beer sauce, and a fried egg. I’d been walking miles when I realized how famished I was, how good this rich, local dish sounded. Once again, I didn’t look up any restaurants—I just followed a few winding streets and my nose and stumbled into a little cafe. The sauce was noteworthy, the meat far too heavy.
Traveling with a uterus
I feel like few people talk openly about the added difficulty of being a traveler with a uterus. We push through cramps, lack of access to public bathrooms, the stress of leakage, and constant discomfort all while sitting for hours on airplanes and trains and walking countless steps uphill while our bodies overheat and our stomachs seize. I just want to ask all my readers without uteruses to imagine traveling for 24 hours with little sleep and tons of walking and unexpected hiccups while also bleeding heavily and cramping violently. We bleeders deserve medals for making it through.
Caught on camera
I posted on my Instagram some photos from today that accidentally caught people passing by, just living their beautiful lives unaware of any iPhone pointed in their direction. All day, I’ve been surprised by beauty. All day, I’ve noticed people and while I’ve been annoyed at times and probably also annoying myself, I was reminded of Thomas Merton’s story, “In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all these people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world.” Today felt like being plunked into a special world. It was chaotic and mesmerizing and I saw people in a unique light, captured with a lens that just so happened to be pointed in their direction.
Cigarettes
I’m not a smoker but I see the allure of it, the appeal of bumming a cigarette from a stranger and inevitably discussing philosophy outside a bodega or dispensary or wherever. Annie Dillard writes about such an experience in Israel (I believe) and the part of me that worries I take up too much space in the world, who’s not shy but also not charismatic, sometimes wishes I had the excuse to say to someone, “can I trouble you for a cigarette?” Followed up (inevitably) with “Do you ever think about death?” We non-smokers need a comparable solution.
Port + pastel de nata
I took a siesta break. The streets were vibrant but I crashed for an hour and woke up ready for a bit more wandering before sunset. I strolled through a market with fresh produce, fish on ice, sardines in colorful tins, and port wine by the glass for 2.5 euros. Port is fortified wine produced in this area. It’s sweet and strong. I sat on steps with tourists of all nationalities, sipped the sweet red liquid, watched as people around me drank their own glasses of port, ate cheese samples, bit into crumbly pasteis de nata. I returned my glass and crossed the street for a break from the bustle where I ordered my first official pastel de nata—a Portuguese egg custard tart baked into flaky pastry. There’s an episode of Somebody Feed Phil (one of my favorite travel food shows of all time) where Phil wanders around Lisbon and buys pasteis de nata to distribute to all the customers who happen to be in the cafe. Phil is perhaps the sweetest TV personality I’ve ever watched and his joy upon biting into new foods is compelling and delightful (he’s the reason I ate a full plate of tomatoes in Oaxaca). I think Phil has found a way to break silence and tension without bumming cigarettes and instead, offering free pastries. Maybe I should try this technique.
My husband and I went to Portugal for our honeymoon and talk all the time about going back!!! It’s SO lovely!! If you can, go here while you’re in Porto. So inexpensive, the best green wine, and delicious food with a beautiful show to get a taste of what fado is!! https://arcadasportofado.pt/#
Also, if you’re going south to Lisbon, do a day trip to Sintra!!!
Yes! Metals for all who travel with a uterus! Our last trip to Greece, I spent the first four days very uncomfortable. Airlines should honestly pay us to check ourselves in, and greet us with a hot water bottle and complementary ibuprofen.