little black journal

Yesterday was the much-anticipated day of Port tasting.  The area across the river from where we’re staying is crammed full of Port houses which open their doors for tastings and tours.  And so we made the journey over the bridge, in search of the perfect glass of sweet, rich Port.  Our first stop of the day was the Kopke port house.  We placed our orders from their extensive list, took a seat in the swanky, modern tasting lounge upstairs, and began to drool as the hostess placed four glasses on Port on the table before us, each paired with perfect little piece of chocolate.  Shane and I had ordered an inexpensive white Port and a much nicer glass of 1978 Port.  The white was ok, decent but not especially memorable.  But the ’78 was amazing – complex, full of so many different flavors, nutty, rich, balanced, gooooood.

From Kopke, we hit up a retail/tasting room down the street, then headed uphill to check out Taylor, then Croft.  Had a couple of good pours, but nothing like the ’78 we’d had earlier in the day.  Darn our expensive taste…  At Taylor, we got to tour the cellar – this cobwebby photo speaks perfectly to the age of the Port in some of these barrels:

The hours flew by as we sauntered from one Port house to another, enjoying the sun, the views from the terraces, and the company of good friends.

By late afternoon we were ready to give our feet and our taste buds a break, and so we seized the opportunity to hop on one of the nearby tour boats and spend an hour cruising down the river.  Porto continues to amaze me with the drama of its landscape and architecture.  And the colors…  Rich mustard yellows, brick reds, bright greens, and clear blues make up the fronts of the buildings that line the river.

La Verne made the comment that Porto is very “photogenic”.  I agree, as around every corner was another great shot to be taken.

We ended the day at a nice Port tasting room just a couple blocks from our hotel and spent a couple of hours enjoying a final glass of this local treat, paired with small plates of pistachios, cheese, pate, olives, and bread.  A perfect day of decadence and leisure.  And so the vacation continues…

Day 2 in Porto has reaffirmed that this is truly an exceptional place.  We climbed to the top of a nearby bell tower this morning and my breath was taken away by the sight of all of these red-tiles rooftops and narrow, every-which-way streets.

We climbed down from the tower and headed toward the river, hoping to catch a bus to a contemporary art museum on the outskirts of Porto.  As we snaked our way down crumbling staircases and cobblestone passageways, I remarked to Shane how it feels like time has stood still here for the past hundred years (or more).

We spent the afternoon at the art museum, which was surrounded by a beautiful garden, and then headed over to the beach just outside of Porto.  It was the first time I’d seen the Atlantic in years, and the smell of saltwater was wonderful.

I would have loved to spend a couple of hours sitting in the sand, watching the waves crash, but we needed to get back to Porto because we had tickets for a concert at the Casa da Musica.  I was more excited about the building the concert was being held in than the actual concert itself, because it was designed by the ever-impressive Rem Koolhaas (of Seattle Public Library fame).  The building did not disappoint – the folded planes of the exterior were simple and clean, surrounded by a plaza of stone-clad mounds.  The interior was full of surprises – corrugated glass windows, mint green foam walls, colored lights behind perforated metal…  Around each corner was a new experience to be had.

Our friends Jack and La Verne arrived tonight and the four of us headed down the street to a small authentically Portuguese restaurant to get some grub.  We let Jack do the ordering, and soon our table was laden with rice with octopus, fried cod, squid with potatoes, and Portuguese stew (which is actually a plate full of miscellaneous pig parts, feet included).  We stuffed ourselves until we could eat no more, polished off a bottle of vino verde (a slightly fizzy white wine), and are now ready to crash for the night.  Tomorrow we venture to the other side of the river to hit up Porto’s port houses – yesssss!

Having said our bittersweet good-byes to Paris last night, we were up painfully early this morning to catch our flight to Porto.  As we were riding the Metro to the airport at 5:30 am, I noticed that most of the other passengers on the train looked like they were just heading home from a night out on the town – no self-respecting Parisian would be starting their day at that hour.  But alas, we forged ahead and made it to Porto around 11 this morning, tired but excited to see what kind of adventures lied ahead.

As we exited the Porto Metro station and headed toward our hotel, our suitcases bumping loudly along the uneven cobblestone sidewalks, my first impression was, “Uh-oh…”  Graffiti covered nearly every storefront, building facades were dingy, window shutters were crooked and broken, hanging by rusty hinges, and I didn’t understand a single word of anything that was being said around us.  Had Rick Steves led us astray?  Where were the brightly tiled buildings, the ornate church towers, the glistening river?  Anxiety set in, but I bit my tongue, afraid that Shane would think I was just having Paris withdrawal.  We navigated our way to the hotel and were relieved to find a sparkling white lobby, complete with modern interiors and an English-speaking clerk.  We checked into our room and were thrilled to find a beautiful room with a little balcony overlooking the street, a marble-tiled bathroom, and crisp white bed linens.  I began to relax.  We unloaded our things and headed back out the door, in search of some lunch.  We popped into a little cafe and scratched our heads at the Portuguese menu, but decided to take a chance and just picked out a couple of sandwiches with what seemed like pronouncable names.  The first sandwich brought to our table was a grilled ham and cheese, which was decent but unremarkable.  But the second sandwich was more of surprise, filled with various meats, covered with melted in cheese, and served in a bowl of rich red broth.  Hmmm…  It was good, but not what we were expecting – Shane joked that he’s often ordered sandwich and soup for lunch, but never sandwich in soup.  We finished lunch, paid our bill after an uncomfortable exchange in our waiter’s broken English and our very few words of Portuguese, and we headed out for more exploring in the city center.  The sun came out from behind the clouds that had hung over the town all morning, and I began to take note of the beautiful painted tiles that covered several building fronts.  Turns out we had taken one of the less scenic routes to get to our hotel.  But regardless, after a day here, I am beginning to appreciate the grit and the cracks the as part of the urban fabric.  They are signs of authenticity, of this city’s culture and history.  There is something really neat about being in a town where people still hang their laundry out to dry on clotheslines strung between windows, where they let chipped tiles fall away to create a secondary pattern on building fronts, and where they let things like peeling paint or crooked roofs stand as signs of the remarkable age of their city.

Uplifted by the beauty and character we’d discovered, but still quite tired, we headed back to the hotel for a nap, deciding that we would make our way down to the river later on for dinner.  After some rest and showers in our seemingly palatial bathroom (did I mention that our shower in our Paris apartment barely allowed me room to turn around without knocking the handle?) we set out toward the Duoro river for dinner.  We tried to follow the map to our final destination, but couldn’t keep track of the changing street names, so we decided to just head downhill and hope that we ended up somewhere near the Ribeira district.  Our wandering brought us to a fantastic little lookout over the city – this was the point in the evening when I really realized the awesome-ness of Porto.  I’ll let the picture speak for itself.

Dinner was great and we finished off the evening with a glass or Port and a cup of espresso.  Despite my original skepticism, I would say day 1 of our Portuguese adventure was a success.  We’re hitting a couple of big sights tomorrow and leaving the rest of the day open to be surprised by whatever little gems are hidden in Porto’s narrow, twisting streets.

Today was our last day of our full week in Paris  – we will be swinging back by here on our way home to Seattle, but the bulk of our time here is over.  Yes, we’re a little sad to be leaving this beautiful city, but we are really excited about the next leg of our trip and can’t wait to see what kind of adventures Portugal holds for us.  Looking forward to sipping some port, experiencing a new culture, and meeting up with our good friends Jack and La Verne on Sunday night in Porto.

We leave for the airport super-early tomorrow, so I need to sign off to get some sleep, but I will say that today was a great day.  Saw some art at the Musee d’Orsay, wandered the gallery-lined streets near St Germain, and had a lovely little picnic next to the river.  I have fallen in love with this city all over again, and, as cheesy as it sounds, this city has allowed Shane and I to fall in love all over again.  It’s amazing what a week away from the daily grind can do for a marriage.  And the fact that we’ve been on a constant pastry high for the past 7 days hasn’t hurt, either…

Shane and I had originally planned on taking a day trip out to the country today, but we decided last night, “What better way to spend a Thursday than lounging around Paris?”  So we stuck around town, making a point of having a particularly leisurely day, after the whirlwind of sightseeing we’ve been caught up in lately.  As usual, we started the day off with a treat from whatever bakery happened to catch our eye on the way to the Metro.  I am still on a quest to find the best pain au chocolat in Paris, no matter how many different samples I have to taste (or pounds I have to gain).  We spent the morning at Pere Lachaise cemetery, leisurely strolling around the cobblestone paths, studying the different tombstones and mausolea.  This place is near the top of my list of favorite places in Paris.  Although there certainly is something eerie about hanging out in a graveyard, there is also an incredible sense of quiet there that you don’t find may places in the city.

For lunch, we grabbed a couple of baguette sandwiches and sat in the sun at Place des Vosges.  I could sit on a bench there for hours, watching little French kids run by with their moms and dads, listening to whoever happens to be playing the guitar nearby, soaking in the beauty of the old stone and brick facades on all sides of me.  Love it.  But I was craving a cafe creme, and Shane was craving a nap, so he headed back to the apartment while I grabbed my journal and walked over to Ile Saint Louis to find a table in the sun where I could do some writing and some coffee-drinking.  It was a nice afternoon – no concerns about checking things off our list of things to see, no rushing to get to any museums before closing or to any sights before sunset, just time to sit and “be” here.  It felt good.

Rested and relaxed, we headed over to the Eiffel Tower this evening to grab a spot on the lawn of the Champ de Mars and enjoy the sight of the tower lighting up for the night.  We brought a bottle of wine, picked up a beautiful little tarte aux fraises at a bakery nearby, and settled into the grass for a couple of hours to watch the sky get darker and darker and the Eiffel Tower get brighter and brighter.  Yes, it was every bit as romantic as it sounds.  But a chill set in once nighttime fell, and so we begrudgingly packed up our things and trekked toward the Metro.  If only we’d had a tent and a couple of sleeping bags – we could have stayed there all night…

A sunny day in the city, spent enjoying Paris’ parks and cafe terraces.  I fell asleep in a chair at the Jardin du Luxembourg.  We have truly shifted into vacation-mode.

Tonight we took on the Louvre – and the Louvre won.  Wandering the halls of that jam-packed museum has worn us out.  I am finding out there is such a thing as art-overload.  However, I could sit and stare at the lit-up exterior of the Louvre for hours.  Stunning.

We ended the night on a perfect note with wine, cheese, and hot chocolate at Le Fumoir.  We discovered this place 5 years ago when Shane came to visit me in Paris, and tonight it exceeded our fondest memories.  The hot chocolate is so thick that if you let it sit and cool for too long, it will set and you will have to eat it with a spoon.  Mmmmm…  So excuse the short post, as I’m quickly falling into a choco-coma.  So good.

Another day come and gone in the city of lights – how time flies when you’re having fun…  We spent the morning out at La Defense, or “modern Paris”, an area full of glassy skyscrapers and huge retail buildings.  I’m still amazed when I see the Grande Arche – how does this work?

We filled up on a hearty helping of steak frites for lunch, then headed over to Montmartre to spend the afternoon wandering around this neighborhood’s twisty, narrow streets.  We eventually made our way to the top of the hill at Sacre Couer – yet another breathtaking beauty.

But what captivated us even more than this centuries-old chapel was the guy outside the church doing some amazing stunts with a soccer ball.  No Photoshopping here – he really is hanging off the side of a lamppost, twirling a soccer ball balanced on a stick that he’s holding between his teeth.  Nuts!

After hiking around Monmartre for awhile longer, we headed back to the apartment for some rest, and rejuvenated ourselves just in time to make it down to the river to watch the sunset.  There are few things more romantic than sitting on the tip of Ile de la City, watching the sun set behind Paris.

Had an amazing dinner at a little sidewalk cafe (a crepe filled with cheese, potatoes, and smoked pork belly for Shane; a salad Provencale for me), topped off the night with a couple of scoops of gelato from a little shop down the street, and we are now full, happy, and tired.  Cheers to another fantastic day.

This morning we took on the Pompidou.  Fueled by fresh-baked pastries from a corner boulangerie, we raced toward the museum, wanting to be at the front of the line when it opened, excited about our first real day of museum-going in Paris.  We spent the entire morning wandering among the galleries, and as I stared at my favorite pieces by Giacometti and Dubuffet, I was reminded why this museum was the place where I really fell in love with art.  So many paintings and drawings and sculptures full of so much expression and depth – I probably visited the Pompidou over 15 times during my year in Paris, and I never tired of seeing the same pieces over and over again.  It is an amazing feeling when a painting reaches out and grabs you for reasons you can’t explain.  It is also exhausting to be bombarded with so much thought-provoking art, so after we left the museum, we got some lunch and then grabbed a seat at a cafe terrace table in the sun to veg out and enjoy a drink.  We chatted and people-watched for awhile, then stared curiously as a group of leotard-clad men and women gathered at the corner of the plaza in front of us.  Turned out we had front row seats for a practice session of a group of 20 or so circus performers.  We spent the next hour watching these people do backflips, juggle, and bend their bodies in all kinds of mind-blowing ways (one girl was able to lean backward from the standing position and put her head between her knees – yes, this looked just as strange as it sounds).  It was quite the show.  I love these little unexpected events – we’ve had wonderful luck so far at being in the right place at the right time.

The rest of the afternoon was spent cruising around the city, soaking up the sun and the sights.  As I listen to Shane snore beside me, I realize that I really ran him ragged today.  I’m pretty beat myself – would love to write more and share a few photos, but I think the combination of all that walking, a super-rich dinner, and that last glass of wine has done me in.  So, ciao for now.  Stay tuned for more Parisian adventures!

I woke up at 6:30 this morning, unable to contain my excitement over getting out to experience more of the city.  We started the day off right with a pain au chocolat from one of the few boulangeries that is open on Sunday, then headed over to the 5th Arrondisement to check out the outdoor market at Place Monge.  Piles of fresh fruits and vegetables, sausage stands strung with links of all sizes, cheese counters stocked with creamy wedges of brie, big hunks of gouda, and cute little rounds of chevre, and a tower of fresh baguettes that drew Shane in like a moth to a flame.  I could have spent several hours wandering among the different stalls, absorbing the different colors and smells, listening to the friendly exchanges taking place in French.  But we’d already burned off breakfast with all of our walking and were eager to satiate our need for some bread and cheese, so we picked up one of those lovely baguettes and a nice little round of chevre (and a couple of oranges to delude ourselves into thinking that we were putting together a well-balanced meal), and walked over the Arenes de Lutece for an impromptu picnic.  Shane nearly fell over with delight when he took that first bite of cheese-smeared baguette (crisp on the outside, perfectly light and airy on the inside), and I discovered that the way to this man’s heart is through a big hunk of freshly baked bread.  While we were sitting on one of the benches in the old stone arena (built in the first century AD, restored in the 1900’s – wow!), a pick-up game of soccer began in the sandy open space of the arena and so we sat for awhile longer and watched the guys play.  The whole morning was lovely and relaxing, and felt so genuinely “Parisian”.

I am worn out and ready for bed, so I’ll have to leave the rest of our day’s adventures for another post, but needless to say, we ate some crepes, we saw some art, we drank some wine, and we fell more in love with this city.  Bonne nuit!

It is a wonderful feeling to be somewhere and think to yourself, “There is absolutely no other place on earth I’d rather be right now.”  Shane and I arrived at Charles de Gaulle this morning, weary and jet-lagged from the 12-hour flight, but as soon as we climbed the steps up out of the Metro station and onto the sidewalks of Paris, I was instantly rejuvenated.  One quick glance at the streetscape and I knew that this city is every bit as beautiful as I remembered it to be.  After a short bout of panic at the bank when we found that we couldn’t change our traveler’s checks into Euros for our apartment’s security deposit, we arrived at our place on Rue Pastourelle (where before we could explain our currency dilemma, the landlord shrugged and said, “Nevermind.  Don’t worry about the deposit.”  So French.)  The apartment is quaint and comfortable, with a great view of the surrounding Parisian rooftops and the courtyard of the Archives Nationales.  I could get used to opening my windows onto this every morning:

We quickly unloaded our stuff, freshened up, and before you could say, “Bienvenue”, we were back out the door, ready to enjoy the city.  Got lunch at a corner brasserie, wandered for a little, realized that we were both feeling a little zombie-like, and returned to the apartment for a much-needed nap.  That was two hours well-spent.  We woke up hungry and grabbed a wedge of brie, a few slices of salami, and a baguette and had a simple (but quite delicious) dinner at the apartment before heading out for a glass of wine and some dessert.  Ended up snagging a table on the terrace in front of Les Philosophes in the Marais.  It was a chilly night, but the heat lamps, the carafe of red wine, and the chocolate espresso cake set before us made us quickly forget about the weather.  The terrace was packed – this is one of the many things I love about Paris: no matter the weather, the time of day, or the state of the economy, people here always find time to grab a seat at one of these tiny sidewalk tables and linger over a drink with friends.  We polished off our wine, chatted for awhile more while we waited 30 minutes for our bill (when in France…), and decided to take a short stroll across the river before heading back to the apartment.  Stood in awe of Hotel de Ville, glowing in the night; reveled in the splendor of Notre Dame; and grabbed a couple of crepes in the Latin Quarter to warm our hands and satisfy our craving for a second dessert.  And then, we were pooped.  Ready to turn in for the night.  Can’t wait to see what tomorrow holds…