Portugal, Oporto, Port & Ports

From Lagos Mike & I left Dibbo behind and met up with Marguerite in the Nations capital - Lisbon. We took the first night easy walking around the Bairro Alto district listening to the numerous fado shows (traditional Portugese singing) from the streets, as the shows themselves were exhorbitently priced, and to be quite honest, totally uninspirring.

We spent our time in Lisbon eating the best custard tarts you could imagine in Belem, exploring the old referbished warves, wondering around the Castelo de Sao Jorge (castle) and walking around the cities steep streets. It was on one of these such walks that Marge's winter coat of skin had a huge disagreement with the sun. The resulting sunburn was severe and continued to take a turn for the worse by somehow morphing into some sort of leprossy like skin disease. Was gross. Unfortunately no photo.

Our last few days in Portugal were spent in Oporto, in a nice little hostel where late nights were the norm, and with 3 creepy old Scottish blokes who tried to lure young ladies with lollies, and had 'the 12 steps to beating heroin addicition' as their choice of reading material in our room. FREAKS. The city itself clings to both sides of the Douro river, making for some beautiful views of the run down river frontage district from any of the 5 bridges along the river. It is also famous for its Port (of the drinking variety), and Mike and I took full advantage of the free tours and tastings from many port companies.

Photo Above: crossing the Douro river
Below: port cellar
Bottom: fort in Belem