Barrels of Port and Parcels of Precipitation

Attempting to keep up with the party pace of Portugal left us whimpering on the last day of the festival. Hours late to meet up with our walk about group we decided to venture out ourselves in a direction we hadn’t explored yet. Half an hour into our wanderings we stumbled upon the group just as the clouds began to give way to drizzle. Miguel, our joint secret tour crush, bought us a bottle of port wine to sip on while we trudged through the misty streets of Porto. Assuming I was on a proper vacation I didn’t bring any rain gear with me, I had on my thickest Toms and the most water absorbent rain jacket look alike I own. No complaining though! We were being led around the most enchanting city by its biggest babes en route to see the band I’ve been waiting for all weekend, Wavves.

so soaked

A couple hours into the festival Poseidon had some strong words with Zeus, won, and unleashed his ocean upon us. I have never in my entire Pacific Northwest life been more soaked and more away from any type of home. The sog may have even dripped into my bones, every time I think back to that evening my feet instantly shiver. Because of this monsoon onslaught I decided to stay at the one stage that was under cover for the rest of the day, which brings me to the Weeknd. I have never disliked an artist on record but loved so much live in my recent memory. I’m actually glad I forced myself to stay in that humid tent because I got some pretty major feels during his set. Wavves were amazing as always, and it was also the first time since we got to Europe that I heard the American accent and it made me homesick for California, not that I would call California home, but Wavves do and I felt their nostalgia.


I have an adventure tip for you. If you go traveling somewhere for longer than four days with anyone, that means anyone, you need to take half a day to a full day off and do your own thing. Its the most healthy thing you can do other than keeping your earplugs and your toothbrush separated, I’m glancing at you Mateo! I began my solo expedition with a half an hour blow drying date in the bathroom with my shoes and my pants. Remember the aerial flood and my water logged shoes? Dealt with. It was a Sunday so everyone was either sleeping in until 3 PM or praying at one of the overwhelmingly huge churches placed on precariously steep streets. I was one of the few people eating croissants on the street, buying a pocket watch necklace in the plaza, and sun bathing by the river. Half way through the day Mateo and I met up to discuss our separate voyages over secret gin and tonics. Secret because we heard they do something fancy to them like infuse the ice cubes with gin or use tonic infused with lost sailor souls.

Porto, it was beyond a pleasure, thank you for introducing me to your sangria, port wine, and way too easy living.

port wine barrels


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