Jinti
A river trip in Porto
Povoa de Varzim 10th September 2007
As planned Mac and Sophia came for the weekend - they brought rain, last seen several weeks ago but also bacon, cheese and shortbread so we forgive them. The rain didn’t last long and we had a sail, a long lunch at anchor and a swiiiiishiveriiiim! Then we went to Baiona where we ate, walked around the castle, ate more ice cream and visited a replica of the Pinta, the caravel that accompanied Columbus to discover the new lands. It seemed tiny and you could just imagine the horror of being in it while it rolled around in big seas. There were huge sacks of nuts and sardines, grain and dried fruits - I’m sure weevils and rats abounded. There were hams hanging from the deck head, something that Andy rather hankers after. I have to say here and now that no boat of mine will have nasty fatty fly maggot riven bits of meat hanging from anywhere. No showers, life on board must have been so harsh compared to our rather soft existence with all the comforts of home.
We left Selkie Dancer in Baiona while we returned to the UK for a weekend of catching up with friends and relatives. Next stop and our first in Portugal was Povoa de Varzim but the trip down was disappointing. No wind meant motoring for eight hours and having to keep alert for the red or white flags that signified fishing nets, sadly with failing eyesight we didn’t see them until we were almost on them. What we did see was a familiar sight from home - Forth Constructor - a Briggs barge, a company based in Burntisland who are contracted to lay pipes here. I knew about them because my hairdresser, Michelle’s brother works for them and I had one of the most useful conversations with her when I asked what weather forecaster the professionals used, she texted him and we have been using www.buoyweather.com ever since.
Portugal has been heralded by friendly people. The most forthcoming people that we have met en route have been Portuguese. We have met a lovely couple a few times now. On arrival here we were met and guided into our pontoon. Our new friend feigned horror when Andy thanked him in Spanish, he explained that Portugal had
As planned Mac and Sophia came for the weekend - they brought rain, last seen several weeks ago but also bacon, cheese and shortbread so we forgive them. The rain didn’t last long and we had a sail, a long lunch at anchor and a swiiiiishiveriiiim! Then we went to Baiona where we ate, walked around the castle, ate more ice cream and visited a replica of the Pinta, the caravel that accompanied Columbus to discover the new lands. It seemed tiny and you could just imagine the horror of being in it while it rolled around in big seas. There were huge sacks of nuts and sardines, grain and dried fruits - I’m sure weevils and rats abounded. There were hams hanging from the deck head, something that Andy rather hankers after. I have to say here and now that no boat of mine will have nasty fatty fly maggot riven bits of meat hanging from anywhere. No showers, life on board must have been so harsh compared to our rather soft existence with all the comforts of home.
We left Selkie Dancer in Baiona while we returned to the UK for a weekend of catching up with friends and relatives. Next stop and our first in Portugal was Povoa de Varzim but the trip down was disappointing. No wind meant motoring for eight hours and having to keep alert for the red or white flags that signified fishing nets, sadly with failing eyesight we didn’t see them until we were almost on them. What we did see was a familiar sight from home - Forth Constructor - a Briggs barge, a company based in Burntisland who are contracted to lay pipes here. I knew about them because my hairdresser, Michelle’s brother works for them and I had one of the most useful conversations with her when I asked what weather forecaster the professionals used, she texted him and we have been using www.buoyweather.com ever since.
Portugal has been heralded by friendly people. The most forthcoming people that we have met en route have been Portuguese. We have met a lovely couple a few times now. On arrival here we were met and guided into our pontoon. Our new friend feigned horror when Andy thanked him in Spanish, he explained that Portugal had
fought for 800 years to keep its language - so ‘obrigado’ it is. Povoa is a big seaside resort with miles of sandy beach. A beach that once was covered with drying nets is now covered with lanes of blue and white striped bathing tents.
Portugal is famous for her azulejos (tiles) and we have seen masses of blue and white painted tile work. On churches they depict biblical scenes. Today we saw women on the quayside, striped aprons over their black clothes selling fish.. They haven’t changed much over the years - on the sea wall, the same faces stare out from a series of painted tiles portraying the past of the town. The facades of many of the houses are also decorated with tiles and there is some fine stone and decorative wrought ironwork. Some of the churches look more onion dome Russian than the usual romanesque or gothic we are used to; and, having heard the language, now I think in the past we may have mistaken Portuguese for Russian. It is full of j’s and sh’s, the sound managing to come from the back of the throat and be nasal at the same time. Apparently it is similar to Gallegan but as we never mastered that we haven’t much chance with Portuguese although of course we try. In Scotland we say, ‘dinnae fash yersel’ ‘don’t worry about it’; here I heard Maria from the office say ‘Tanto faz’(pronounced tant fash) it means ‘its all the same to me’ in other words don’t worry about it, I think that’s amazing - language is amazing. We travelled in the metro from here into Porto and every station was announced twice before we got there. I listened so carefully and tried to reproduce it, and then when we got there and I saw the written name it bore no resemblance to how I had imagined it.
Porto was fantastic. A wonderful atmospheric city, the broad river Douro curving and cutting its way up to the fertile lands where the port wine grapes are grown. It reminded me of the old town in Edinburgh with its tall buildings edging the long, dark, narrow and steep winding closes. The difference being the darkness relieved by washing, football club flags and splashes of scarlet geraniums and the smell of barbecuing sardines replacing that of the brewery. There was even a little dog who had his special mat placed over the washing line from which he could sit and observe passers by. The waterfront is so colourful, the river framed by a series of bridges which elegantly span the gorge on which the city is built, the houses seeming only just managing to cling on in places. We took a boat trip and a bus trip and rushed up the hill just in time to get our free samples of Graham’s port coming away with a couple of bottles of white port which was our favourite.
We hired a car one day and Andy drove up north along the coast to the border Ria do Minho. Here we visited three little towns, Caminha, Valenca do Minho and Ponte de Lima. We looked across the border from one of three walls that surrounded the fortress town of Valenca as a forest fire raged and a helicopter expertly picked up and dropped water in an attempt to halt the blaze.
The fine sunny days however have been replaced by rather more uncertain weather and fog has arrived with an accompanying horn that sounds just like a WW2 air raid siren.
The two day visit to Povoa de Varzim has stretched to six and it’s time to move on.
Portugal is famous for her azulejos (tiles) and we have seen masses of blue and white painted tile work. On churches they depict biblical scenes. Today we saw women on the quayside, striped aprons over their black clothes selling fish.. They haven’t changed much over the years - on the sea wall, the same faces stare out from a series of painted tiles portraying the past of the town. The facades of many of the houses are also decorated with tiles and there is some fine stone and decorative wrought ironwork. Some of the churches look more onion dome Russian than the usual romanesque or gothic we are used to; and, having heard the language, now I think in the past we may have mistaken Portuguese for Russian. It is full of j’s and sh’s, the sound managing to come from the back of the throat and be nasal at the same time. Apparently it is similar to Gallegan but as we never mastered that we haven’t much chance with Portuguese although of course we try. In Scotland we say, ‘dinnae fash yersel’ ‘don’t worry about it’; here I heard Maria from the office say ‘Tanto faz’(pronounced tant fash) it means ‘its all the same to me’ in other words don’t worry about it, I think that’s amazing - language is amazing. We travelled in the metro from here into Porto and every station was announced twice before we got there. I listened so carefully and tried to reproduce it, and then when we got there and I saw the written name it bore no resemblance to how I had imagined it.
Porto was fantastic. A wonderful atmospheric city, the broad river Douro curving and cutting its way up to the fertile lands where the port wine grapes are grown. It reminded me of the old town in Edinburgh with its tall buildings edging the long, dark, narrow and steep winding closes. The difference being the darkness relieved by washing, football club flags and splashes of scarlet geraniums and the smell of barbecuing sardines replacing that of the brewery. There was even a little dog who had his special mat placed over the washing line from which he could sit and observe passers by. The waterfront is so colourful, the river framed by a series of bridges which elegantly span the gorge on which the city is built, the houses seeming only just managing to cling on in places. We took a boat trip and a bus trip and rushed up the hill just in time to get our free samples of Graham’s port coming away with a couple of bottles of white port which was our favourite.
We hired a car one day and Andy drove up north along the coast to the border Ria do Minho. Here we visited three little towns, Caminha, Valenca do Minho and Ponte de Lima. We looked across the border from one of three walls that surrounded the fortress town of Valenca as a forest fire raged and a helicopter expertly picked up and dropped water in an attempt to halt the blaze.
The fine sunny days however have been replaced by rather more uncertain weather and fog has arrived with an accompanying horn that sounds just like a WW2 air raid siren.
The two day visit to Povoa de Varzim has stretched to six and it’s time to move on.