Porto

So, I like octopus. Thus, I´ve ordered it a few times since I´ve been here--so much so that my hands and feet are beginning to stick to smooth surfaces.

Anyway, last night I had amazing charcoal grilled octopus, bathed in enough garlic to fell a whole regiment of vampires. Tonight I ordered octopus again. Now, based on my extensive dining habits and exhaustive research, I´ve concluded that Portugese restaurants are like the Applebees of Europe (in a good way...the pejorative connotation of Applebees notwithstanding)--enormous portions and they love to fry things. So this evening, my sauteed cephalopod entree clearly came from the poor fellow who tangled with Julius Verne´s Nautilus. I was served one gargantuan tenticle the diameter of a healthy drumstick and the length of my forearm--it had suckers the size of dimes. Mercifully, the chef had cut it into thirds, but it was still an armful (zing!). It was so large, that when I sliced off a piece, the diameter was as big as a large scallop. After tonight, I think I´ll give it a pass for the remainder of the trip. Don´t get me wrong...it was delicious, but I´ve had my fill.

The university students are beginning classes this week, so everywhere I went I encountered upperclassmen herding around first-years and gently hazing them. A lot of marching around dressed in chicken costumes and singing what I´m sure are embarrassing songs in Portuguese. The upperclassfolk are all dressed in black suits with long coats and wear black capes draped over their shoulders. Apparently this is traditional dress for university students and is quite fetching, but I imagine it is pretty hot (it was 75 degrees today). It did start to rain later in the day, and the temperature dropped a bit, so I felt bad for all concerned--at least the upperclassmen had capes to ward off the rain, but the first-years were just huddled in the rain.

Porto is quite pretty, and it basically clings to the sides of several VERY steep and very high hills. Not a town for the vertiginous. I got to experience that firsthand last night when I was on the pedestrian/tram portion of the famous bridge that crosses the river. Calling it a pedestrian and tram bridge is charitable--the walkway is an afterthought: one person wide, with clattering trams on one side and a barely waist-high rail guarding the abyss on the other. To make it more exciting--and perhaps to discourage loitering--the whole bridge trembles and shakes every time a tram goes scuttling by.

So, that´s the news. Tomorrow I fly out on RyanAir to Madrid.

Further bulletins as events warrant.