Day four.  Last day in Portugal.  Wake up early even though I wanted to sleep late.  Rush breakfast and set off in early morning sunshine for Roman archaeological remains.  Walk around in circles for a while, then find striking structure covering the series of small walls. 

Receptionist very nice. 

“Entry is one euro.  Or... are you a teacher?”

“Yes.  I am actually...”

“So entry is 80 cents.”

“But I teach Physics.  It is not relevant to Roman history, so I don’t mind paying one euro. ”

Have Mrs Doyle style fight over how much I should pay.  Look around the series of small walls.  Rusty steel structure covering the remains of more interest to me.  Though they have a very good interactive touch-screen presentation.  

Last look around Braga.  Poznan supporters arriving in large numbers, all wearing blue colours.  Decide I’ve seen enough of Braga and need to make most of time left in Portugal.  Ask at tourist office.  Told that Famalicao, half way to Porto, is very cultural so catch train there.

Famalacao described in tourist leaflet as ‘cultural and commercial centre of the region’.  Arrive and station seems a little way out of centre, so start walking.  Very sunny and warm.  See old building now used as a university building – very pretty.  Modern church building opposite must have quite stunning in its day. 

Find centre.  Not much there. 

Find Centro de Estudios del Surrealismo (Surrealism Studies Centre).  Have to wait for long staff lunch break to finish before I can enter. 

Surreal bookshelves

Ladies very friendly, one in particular, who can speak excellent English, is very excited about having a foreign visitor and I am made to feel very welcome.  The centre has an exhibition gallery, a library, bookshop and a few staff.  Look at various drawings of metamorphic forms (trees/people; people/chairs) and have a quick look at bookshop.  Friendly woman seems a little disappointed I took only twenty minutes to visit. 

Walk down street to find tourist information office.  Panic as I enter.  Even more panic as I ask if anyone speaks English.  Two woman smirk and gesture to each other as bloke points out the town highlights to me.   

“Here, the museum of surrealism you have been too. Here, a church.  And over here... the library.”

Tourist info office is an interesting structure, built around a preserved weighbridge.  Door is an unusual shape and hinges part way in; decide that is most interesting thing in whole town.  Take photos of door.

Decide to leave Famalcao and go back to Porto.  Catch an old diesel train back to Porto and try to think of other places to visit.

Back at Porto train station and catch metro towards edge of town.  Get off an edge of town station.  Nothing on edge of town, so go back to centre within ten minutes.

Walk up to trendy university area.  Find another old bookshop.  Interior is amazing.  Lots of people taking photographs of ornate stair case.  Books more Sussex Stationers than Foyles, so rather disappointing. 

 

Have a nice vegetable lasagne at one of the cafe bars frequented by trendy people.  Ate inside with old drunks, rather than outside with trendy students  -  a little more entertaining. 

Catch metro back to airport and complete trip to Portugal.

Day Three (19:00)

Last night was last in Porto.  Decide to go and look at non-tourist areas; places popular with Portuguese. 

Bothered by beggars again.  One woman comes up to me and, in almost perfect English, explains that her baby has stomach ache and she needs some money for medicine. Give her a Euro and say, “Aye, al’reet.  Ere’s a Euro. Don’t go piss it all up ag’en a wall at once”.  Woman looks bemused and takes Euro coin in silence and walks away looking a mixture of resignation and confusion. 

Find great little places where hip young Portuguese people hang out. Decide I’d look out of place. Find swish-looking art deco restaurant in almost posh corner of town.  Look out of place, but getting hungry.

Pick traditional Portuguese vegetarian meal of cheese omelette and chips (sounds more glamorous in Portuguese).    Ask for side salad as well to make it more of a meal.  Original order already comes with side salad so now have two salads.  Quickly get bored of chewing grated carrot.

Restaurant is straight out of 1920s.  Waiting staff appear out of 20s too – dress and manners very old school.  Not bad for Euro16 all in.  Expect Hercule Poirot to appear.  Instead spot a Julia Roberts look-a-like in the corner, which keeps me amused for a few moments.  She sticks her boobs out when walking past me later.  The Streets’ song Fit But You Know It keeps playing in my head.

Walk back and only bothered by a drunk trying to sell me hash.  Speaks perfect English to me.  I just keep walking this time.

This morning have fibreglass breakfast at the past-its-best hotel and leave, commenting to friendly receptionist that I’m on my way to Braga.  “No! No!” she smiles, “it is o-brig-a-doh”,  correcting what she thought was an attempt to ‘thank you’ in Portuguese.  Are my pathetic attempts at a few tourist words so awful that she thinks I’m trying even when I’m not?

Catch lovely tram to station on edge of town and catch lovely regional-class train to Braga.  Stopping service, but less than Euro3 so that’s OK.  Shame fog got in way of view.

Reach Braga station as sun burns off fog.  Attractive modern station built-on to old station building.  Steel roof structure spoilt with anti-pigeon spikes held on with white cable ties. 

 

Walk into town centre.  It’s 10:00am so people are just on their way to work.  Old people greet each other formally as they pass.  One old boy tries to greet me – I just pretend I didn’t hear (although he might not have been greeting me).

Already struck with quaintness of streets (that better, Xena?).  Some amazing old buildings, dating from several centuries ago (guessing) showing town must have been of some importance.  Historic centre seems rather classy in places.

Find Tourist Information Office.  Woman behind counter speaks excellent English and is very helpful.  Seems slightly apologetic about lack of tourist infrastructure (don’t have bike hire).  Helpfully allows me to keep my rucksack behind her counter as I go for a walkabout.

Visit cathedral.  Lots of icon tat shops and shrines in vicinity.  Awestruck by interior of cathedral. But photos not allowed.  Old bloke warden is very zealous, even trying to stamp authority on regular worshipers by pointing to spot someone just sat in and saying “Si” – as though these people need his authority to pray.  Only photo obtained in cathedral precinct is of couple arguing as they paint a door.  

  

Go through to modern museum of archbishopric memorabilia.  Try to take subtle photos of building interior (great rooms); so subtle that photos are of nothing.   Hope photo of religious tat from shop window nearby will do.

Walk around a bit more.  See lovely gardens stock full of pansies, still being watered.  Step on a turd too big to be from a dog.  Wipe it off on mat outside Hugo Boss shop. 

 

Get to sneak around interior of music department of university.  Get good photos of (glazed) cloisters and buy a pastry from a vending machine (student prices!).  Can’t track down source of noise of people practicing violin and trumpet, so leave and go bookshop spotting.

First bookshop is very old.  Established in 19^th century.   Exciting ceiling of main room and one or two historic features give shop character. 

Second bookshop is a new development in an old building.  Lots of style and character.  Main room has tall cantilevered shelves made from mild steel and back-lit to great effect.  Various side rooms each have own character and style.  Neither bookshop had anything on Braga’s stadium.

 

Wander some more and then collect rucksack from tourist information and go and find hotel, on edge of town centre.  Clean and modern.  Dump stuff and return to historic area for lunch.

Braga not totally geared up for tourist trade (thankfully).  Only local cafes serving lunch.  Find a little hole in the wall behind a newsagents.  Friendly owner makes helpful attempt to translate menu for me.  I have cheese omelette and chips again.  And a beer.  Friendly owner keeps looking at me with suspicion/distain so ate quickly and don’t bother with loo visit.

Find another university building and take some great photos of some very old buildings. 

Need a pee badly now, but need to head off to stadium for tour booked by email yesterday.

Spot town hall – that must have a loo.  Walk around old corridors and up and down grand steps.  No loo to be seen.  Walk out on verge of leaking.  Spot public loo set in to square steps I just walked down.  Make essential visit and then head towards Braga’s stadium, 20 minute walk out of town. 

Get to main gate with security guard woman looking particularly officious. “Visitas entrada?” I ask.  Not sure what she said, but it was smug and negative.  Walk around to other entrance.   Cafe owner says that it the entrance for tours.  Go back to first entrance and spot notice with information about tours, take photos and show guard lady.  Still nothing.  Say “email, internet estadio.  Estadio say OK”.  She phones reception and comes back, still no.  Passing journalist car is flagged down and bloke translates for me.  Woman says nothing to me, so I start to walk off.   Woman stops me, says I have to wait.  Eventually she gives me a form to fill out and lets me through.

Walk along road, through a tunnel and into an underground car park.  Security is tight as there is a European game tomorrow night.  Security guards now look like paramilitary forces – boots, black combat fatigues and berets (but still civilian security guards!)  Friendly guard shows me to reception and lovely lass there says the tour will start in a few moments, so I should look at their museum.  Every single pot every won on display: very proud of their Intertoto cup victory three years ago.

Tour guide is a man in late-middle age.  Seems annoyed that I can’t understand Portuguese or French (he can do it in French).  Party of college students arrive and tour starts.  

Walk up 12 flights of stairs to top of one stand, built into side of hill.  College kid’s lecturer kindly translates some of the boring facts that the guide points out as we ascend.

At top, the view is outstanding and high.  Take lots of photos.  College lecturer jokes, “this guide is pure sex, eh?”  He explains that I’m not missing much as the guide is boring and grumpy.   Guide takes us out of stand and along a gangway on to back of roof.  On the bloody roof!  Walk back down along cliff end and go through to the open grandstand on the other side.   

Tour party descends into basement of stand and we crawl over fences.  “We are going to be slaughtered”, jokes the lecturer, “this is his dungeon”.  Walk through passageway and into large space under the pitch, passing between pillars shaped like upturned wine glasses.  

Grumpy old tour guide manages to persuade Imperial Guard storm troopers to let us walk out of players’ tunnel and we sit in dug out.    

 

Make our way back to the main underground complex, but can’t go to changing rooms – that is definitely out of bounds – but get to see amazing press room.  Stopped from taking photo as photography is not permitted in press room?!?

Tour over.  I thank collage lecturer man and he wishes me well. 

Walk back to town centre feeling like I’ve ticked off a major life ambition by seeing the Braga stadium.  It is certainly an awe inspiring sight and to have access to the places I did was a (hard won!) privilege. 

Find nice bar with tables on a square and have a refreshing beer in warm evening sunshine, while university students have fun and make me feel old.  

A packed day, full of wonder and comedy in equal measure.

Day Two (19:00)

Just woke up after a lovely nap through what was probably a lovely sunset.  Room is bloody cold now.

Last night ventured into town to have a look at what happens after dark and to find something nice to eat.  Restaurant across the road looked perfect but concluded that was too easy; walked around for ages and ended up at an Italian in a shopping mall.  Food was OK.

Hassled twice in the dark by dodgy-looking beggars speaking perfect English.  Sad and a little scary – both demanded I buy them dinner.  Female beggar might have got somewhere with a more subtle chat-up line; male beggar not my type.

Hotel TV works late and through night (as does heater) so seem to be on some sort of timer.  Follow wire.  All rooms have separate wire going out and across the corridor ceiling so all must be on timer.  Assume hotel owner must be Scottish or from Yorkshire.

Woke up at 6:00 to see it was still dark and raining.  Had breakfast at 8:00.  Selection of bread, plastic cornflakes, rubbery cheese, ham , jam and artificial orange juice.  Have everything but the ham.  

Get on metro network  to see some sights in the rain.  See girl being slapped by large man in Ray Bans.  Large man has several slightly less large men around him also wearing Ray Bans.  Sunglasses unnecessary underground so assume criminal intentions.  Look at them and frown and tut.  Girl escapes, I spend rest of journey looking over shoulder.

Reach Estádio do Dragão.  Take photos between rain showers.  Large but not much open space around it (sandwiched between motorway and other developments) so photos limited.  Can see inside, but not down to pitch level.  Tickets for sale still for European game Wednesday night. Lots of old men rush to ticket office, with wives standing by their tartan shopping trolleys, looking on disapprovingly. Hang around mulling on whether to get tickets; decide Braga is main objective and walk away.  

Go back to town, look at shops.  See smartly dressed middle-aged lady again, who was dancing in the street yesterday.  Not dancing today, so assume it’s her day off.  Stop off at hotel.  Then go out again.   Sunny now.

Catch tram over Luis Spence Bridge.  Amazing views.   

 

Get off on other side and walk around, admiring more amazing views.  Have a pee in an underground toilet then go and look at views a bit more.  Take lots of photos from slightly different angles.  Walk back over bridge, taking photos and looking at views.  Lots of other people doing the same.

 

Get to other side and see little alleys and streets built right up to and under the bridge.  Have a wonder around and take photos of quant run-down streets snaking beneath top deck of bridge (like Todmorden); probably piss off locals who live in run down houses in the process.  

Tilt head for better view

All dogs and cats here seem to have fleas and/or missing eyes - this is social deprovation at first hand!  Feel like a photo journalist.

I spy... something beginning with the letter B!

Have a lovely lunch at a nice restaurant on quayside, looking towards bridge.  Language barrier means eating food in good faith – certainly seems vegetarian -  very nice so must be OK.  Lovely in fact.  Never had whatever it was before, so must find out what it was, as very enjoyable.  Sun is now fully out by this time so have large beer and soak up warm sunshine. Wish I had Ray Bans too.  

Old woman comes out of souvenir shop next door, thumping broom on ground and shouting at restaurant owner next door.  Suspect dispute over allocated street space.  Woman seems nuts: try not to make eye contact.

Impetuous waiter brings me the bill before I ask for it, finish beer and leave 10cent tip.

Walk further down river than yesterday.  First on one side, then back and back over bridge and up and down the other.  Lots of lovely sunshine.  Cable car system being built for the other side looks very useful.   Take more photos:  How many photos can one take of a bridge? 

 Catch funicular railway back up to town, look at some shops.  See bookshop noticed last night in dark.  Take photos of great interior – brother would love this, even if all books are in Portuguese.  

Realize I’ve spent most of the day walking around and taking photos.

Wondering if dinner should be taken across the road or if I should walk around aimlessly again.

Train to Braga in the morning.  Centrally located hotel already booked.  Hope Braga Stadium Tour people got my email asking for a tour (website said you have to ask beforehand).

 Notice to readers:  I don't know why but the blog website doesn't seem to notice that I've rotated my pictures on the PC.  Apologies for those with sore necks or limitited mobility and/or interest.