For our fourth anniversary we decided to motor up to Porto, which is about a three hour drive from Lisbon, and is Portugal’s second-largest city. It’s also famous for port wine, which was named after Porto (except someone forgot the “o”). Porto reminded me of a smaller version of Lisbon: hilly, the same architecture for the most part, some narrow streets, and lots of Portuguese people in it too for some reason.
We took a couple of day trips outside the Porto area, but for this post these pictures are all within the city center.
Old churches for old worshipers (well, young ones as well), plus a not-so-old wife for a husband to worship too!
As you can tell, the ceilings were amazing. Either that or I was hunting for flies again.
Even though I’m hardly a Slim Jim (more like a Thick Jimmy), I had no problem navigating these narrow alleyways. As long as I sucked it in that is. That car was going 40 miles an hour! But it’s okay, because they drive in kilometers, so no one knew how fast it was going.
How she might have enticed me at the Prince’s Ball way back when.
Photobombing the columns. Photobombing is pretty much the only terrorism Portugal suffers from.
It’s a good thing Elvis didn’t write songs here, otherwise his famous tune might have gone: Well, it’s one for the money, two for the show, Three to get ready, now go, cat, go! But don’t you step on my blue tile church! Well you can do anything, But stay off of my blue tile church!
A view of Porto from a place where there is a view of Porto.
We were surprised and humbled that they put out all the flags just for our anniversary.
Yes, this is a big statue with a man patting a naked woman’s butt, and yes, people put stickers all over said butt. They couldn’t quite cover it all up, however. As a result, we were scandalized. So were the birds, obviously.
I asked her to mimic the woman’s pose, but she’s too shy to take off all her clothes on the street. I did, however, purchase some stickers to put on her later. That must be what they do here, right?
She had no idea I was crossing my eyes.
Ungodly amounts of decor in a church – oh wait, can I say that?
Waiting for our English-language tour of a palace. I was scared I might not understand English anymore.
This is my vision of my personal entrance to heaven. It wasn’t, however, in front of a church. You know, that’s all they’d need to do to get me in there. First Church of Ice Cream. I’d be a bishop in that denomination! My hat would be an upside down ice cream cone, and my robe would be the color of mint chocolate chip.
Selfie. I think. It may have been when I stole the camera from an unsuspecting tourist who got too close, I’m not sure.
In the middle of Porto is Liberdade Square (although it’s rectangular), dominated by this steeple, which could be giving the misnamed square the finger, I’m not sure.
She’s happy because she can now read that beer billboard. Or she just had two or three of them.
This was either after one helluva wild party, or she just doesn’t wear very much around the house. Or I guess it could be “he”: who am I to judge?
This is a picture of a church with two people staring at you.
She liked this door, so of course it became the Door of the Day.
He’s telling us to go over there, but as you can see, I’m dubious as to whether he’s correct.
I’m not sure why these lions are barfing. Probably due to the lack of a giant ice cream cone at the entrance to the church.
As with Lisbon, because there are so many hills, there are opportunities for lots of scenic views, which is something I feel everywhere I go with Carolyn. Because, you know, I think she’s rather scenic.
Back in the day, I believe it was a mortal sin to allow any wall or ceiling to be plain.
The train station was fairly ornate for a train station. I think they did it just to match the color of my shirt.
One of the aforementioned views from atop a tower we climbed and climbed and climbed. Along the way, lots of people were stairing too.
This is how we would’ve looked at the first dance at our wedding, if we had held it in this grand ballroom, and been in Porto, and dressed rather casually, and ignored the fact that we don’t dance very well, which you can’t tell from a still image, thank goodness. I fell over right after the shot was taken.
And this is the grand staircase outside the ballroom one of us surely would have tripped and fallen down, much to the delight of all the people with cell phones who would’ve been filming us. Probably would have been Carolyn falling due to the glass slippers.
I don’t know if people paid more attention to ceilings back then because they were shorter or whether their necks were more limber than ours are today.
Yeah, we walked up that thing. From the inside.
When she took that shot, a couple of Chinese tourists really cracked up. My guess is that they’re not used to seeing an elder statesman such as myself clowning around. Either that or they thought it was stupid because the statue only has a mustache.
Another view of Porto and the beautiful terra cotta roofs. Carolyn says it should be “terracotta,” but the spell checker doesn’t seem to agree. I looked it up, and they’re both right. So ha spell checker! Eat that with your terra cottage cheese!
It’s a little known fact that the pop group America wrote their lyrics while vacationing in Porto, you know: “Douro cross the river if you can’t swim the tide!” They almost named the band “Portugal” too.
All I need is a horse. And a staff. With a flag on it. And a helmet. And different clothes. And to have lived a few hundred years ago. Other than that, it’s a spitting image!
I think this picture is a bunch of bull. Actually, I just wanted to see where bullshit actually starts.
Obviously Carolyn did most of the picture snapping. I’m just here to add a little color to the scenery.
An old church. Of course, we saw no new ones, but these things will be standing after the apocalypse, so why bother building new ones?
The Douro River, navigated by a mini container ship.
Panoramic view of Porto.
God, please let this be the last picture!
Well it is.