Friday, 22 August 2025

An unusual day of waiting

Another short night's sleep, with the sound of people getting up extra early to get ready to leave for early flights. We were the last flight departure of the day, but had to be packed and out of our cabins soon after breakfast to allow the cleaners to prepare for the next cruise. A coach took us to a hotel on the other side of the Douro, a half hour's rush hour journey up and down hill to reach the Pont de San Luis and then along the riverside for a mile to the hotel Rocco, near the electric tram dept, now turned into museum, where we could stay and have our hand baggage looked after for the next seven hours until the airport coach came to collect us.  

Two trams stopped outside, the #1 which went along the riverside down to the sea I think, and #18 which turned left and climbed the hill to the university area. Clare and I set out to walk up the the park indicated on the tourist map, but underestimated the distance and ease of access, so we didn't get far. The hill was very steep. Clare's hip hurt and I lacked the energy for a hike. She returned to the hotel and I took the #18 tram to the top. The area was heaving with tourists, and there were insufficient signs to tell you how to get to notable places, like the elaborate train station and the Cathedral, so after taking a few photos I returned on the same tram. The ride was a worthwhile experience, dating back a century, noisy, uncomfortable, with etched glass ventilation windows, wood panelled walls and seats, and an overhead cable bell pull with a real live working bell which went 'ting'. I walked around the neighbourhood some more, then it was time for lunch.

We would have gone to the in-house restaurant for lunch, but when we arrived at the advertised time it was empty and no staff were there to welcome us. On the recommendation of the doorman we walked a few hundred metres to a small bar restaurant with an outdoor patio right on the street. We went inside, as it was rather noisy with traffic outdoors. The space was small with a dozen table and a modest menu, and I think we were the only people who didn't live in the neighbourhood, to judge by the Portuguese conversations around us. Clare had salad and grilled sea bass slightly burned, she said. I had stewed pork and red beans with veg, and it was both tasty and plentiful. The only non-gourmet cooked meal I've had all week, such a delight. The afternoon passed slowly, somewhat sleepily in the heat. I'm not sure the capacious entrance area where we waited was air conditioned. I think the area may have once been used for industrial purposes, joined to the rest of the building by corridors with ramps to access lifts and toilets. It felt strangely empty rather than convivial.

The coach arrived as expected 20 minutes late, but got us to the airport by six. When we checked in Clare decided to ask for assistance to minimise walking. We were pointed to a service called 'My Way' and we were taken by wheelchair with an attendant following check-in through security and passport controls into the large open departure area with shops, bars, eateries and surprisingly few departure information panels. It was unnervingly different from conventional departure areas. We had a snack supper at an eaterie near our departure gate, and joined up to wait with two others in wheelchairs, once the flight arrived. There was one attendant and three of us on wheels. He took the single woman awaiting a knee replacement, another lady wheeled her husband, and I wheeled Clare - my first experience of steering a wheel chair, down two steep ramps to the aircraft, hands on brakes all the way.

I think I slept for an hour during the one hour fifty flight. If it left ten minutes late, It was due to the three assisted passengers having to take their seats first. We arrived at eleven, were ushered through passport control, collected our hold baggage and got to the very busy new transport hub by eleven thirty. It meant we had plenty of time before our coach to Cardiff at ten past midnight, arriving in Sophia Gardens at one forty. We picked up a taxi to take us home, from the entrance road. By two o'clock, I was in bed unpacking only my toothbrush, 

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