Landed this morning at 11:50 and caught the lovely Porto Metro tram to town. First stop was selected by simply waiting to see where everyone else gets off. I (and almost everyone else) get off at Bolhoa station. 
Looking for somewhere quiet and safe to sort my stuff out, I see an enclosed market off the street so head in there. It is the Bolhao (which I guess means market). The Bolhao is in some decay, but very much in use and has such character that it attracts many a camera-wielding tourist.
It’s quiet when I arrive, most of the fruit stalls are covered over with sheets. The only activity is around the little cafes of from a few old folk exchanging frank opinions with each other or with indulging traders. The smell of fresh flowers and fried food remind me of childhood visits to my grandmas.
Walk aimlessly for most of the afternoon. The weather starts to get a little greyer and the rain spits from time to time. Try to head indoors to the photography gallery. It’s closing so ask another English-speaking person for directions to quayside. Transpires her sense of direction was somewhat out, but did wander through quant-cum-salubrious old parts of town for an hour or so. Lots of lovely old narrow and steep streets. Slipped on wet cobbles as half a neighbourhood watched, but no one seemed to laugh or say anything – assume normal occurrence. Some very traditional scenes in places.
Finish walking in big circle and stop off to eat a little street cafe in one of the main shopping streets. Entertained by two old women street vendors trying to out-shout each other (one selling socks, the other lotto tickets), various people knocking the back of my chair as I’m eating and a selection of nutters who seem to be patrolling the street. Most entertaining is a smartly dressed middle-aged lady, whom I first spotted standing in a plant pot. She spent several minutes walking up and down the street doing some sort of dance. Women on table next to make take photos of her, so I decide it must be socially acceptable and do the same.
After looking at good, clean, conventional hotels, I plumped for one that was half the price. In a nice central position, friendly staff, only EURO25 per night. But it has seen better days. Tenuously informed by the very nice receptionist that the WIFI and phones are down due to an earlier storm. Not sure if this can explain the non-working TV and heating, but I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt. Receptionist thinks FC Porto are playing a European match against Seville on Wednesday. If this is true it explains why this hole is actually fully booked that night. It’d be nice to go to the game, but I expect that, with that sort of Iberian derby game, the difficulty in getting a ticket and a hotel room for Wednesday may be prohibitive. I might spend that night in Braga. Unless they have a big European game too...
Late afternoon and finally found the spectacular bridges which cross the river. Most of Porto is high up away from the river so went down to the bottom of the steep hill/cliff on a very clever funicular railway that managed to keep the car completely level, even thought the track curved like a roller coaster. There were chickens on the track, but they were unharmed by the passing car.
The Ponte Luis I bridge is an amazing structure. Took lots of photos. Asked by drunk blonde girl to take photo of her and boyfriend in front of bridge. She reciprocates, but I see I look awkward on the photo. Quayside is lovely. Shame I didn’t find it before the skies turned so dark. It’s quiet and most things are shut until the evening so decide to go on a one hour boat trip up and down the river. Drunk girl and boyfriend also board. Drunk girl dances to iPod docking station and at one point gets out a harmonica and plays along. Party of young male tourists spend most of boat journey chatting her up, while her boyfriend looks on.
Pisses it down for remainder of boat trip, so spend most of time inside dismal cabin with a miserable-looking French family (all sitting far apart from each other). Drunk girl parties on outside in the rain. Whole scene reminds me of Morecambe.
Surprised at how many rundown and/or derelict buildings there are in Porto. If this was in the UK, they’d all be developed and it’d be a property hotspot, given the beauty and life of Porto.
Wander back to hotel and buy a can of beer for 60cents; this hotel is growing on me!
Really should have learnt more than one word of Portuguese before I came - getting by, but feel awkward and ignorant. And I need to find a shop selling toothpaste.
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