Author: melmalinowski

Porto, 330 km north of Lisbon, is the second largest town in Portugal, and a Unesco World Heritage site. Arriving there by air is pleasant. The airport is not too big, which makes everything easier. Passport control is fast, and a 5 minute walk takes you to the Metro station, where you can take a modern fast tram into the city center for less than $5, and you are whisked there in 30 minutes.

Looking out on the Rio Douro from the Ponte Luiz I bridge.

The Ponte da Arrabida, the one of the 6 big bridges of Ponte closest to the ocean. They are all graceful.

This old railroad bridge was designed by Gustave Eiffel, and at the time of its construction in 1877  was the longest single-span arch in the world. It also cost ⅔ as much as the nearest other proposal, being cutting edge engineering for the time. It no longer is in service, but is being preserved for historic reasons.

I took an immediate liking to Porto. A week here should be lots of fun. It is a very old city, with a distinct local flavor. Much that is traditional is still alive here: neighborhood greengrocer shops, little cafes, and bakeries. Small town European village kind of life, good to see it still happening.

A typical older street in my neighborhood, Trindade.

You can find greengrocer stands like this in every neighborhood. Great tasting Portuguese vegetables at bargain prices.

Lots of big old churches, too. The blue on white tiles are a Portuguese tradition.

A panel in the train station lobby. Many of the plentiful tile veneers are historical pictorial murals.

The Trindade neighborhood  church.

Another local church.

Not a church, but I’m not really sure what it was. It now houses the Porto Tourism Offices.

Porto is a very old city, with lots of traditional buildings. The far building on the left is Banco du Portugal.

And artistic graffiti, a big deal in Portugal. If it were all this good, I’d be a big fan. It is not.

The Good

The Bad

And the Ugly.

Porto is hilly. A number of very big bridges connect the high levels of the city. The Ponte Luiz I was finished in 1886, and is 146 feet above Rio Douro, which runs through the middle of Porto. Apparently they’re not concerned about jumpers, and it’s too high to high dive! A little science: if you dove off, you’d hit the water 3 seconds later, going 65 mph. Not a good idea.

In the background here is Gaia, where all the major Port cellar are located.

When it was built, Ponte Luiz I was the widest span of this type in the world. you can see Port barrels in the boat. I think they’re there for show. These old-style boats are used for river sightseeing excursions. The big pole going out the back of the boat is their rudder.

The north bank near the bridge. You can wind your way up the stairways, about 300 steps up.

An old abandoned church along the river.

Narrow back streets of cobblestone with traditional buildings.

Card games are popular in this small park.

Local men enjoy a drink of wine in a street cafe. The faces are familiar, particularly if you’ve lived in Hawaii. There are many ‘Portugees’ there, including my good friend George Carvalho, a family name you see on historic wall plaques.

This French-designed steel bridge is even older than Ponte Luis I bridge.

Another view of the city and the Ponte Luis I bridge.

As you head west from the Gaia area, you can walk along the river towards the ocean. Fishing from this walkway is very popular, so there are holders built into the deck for fishing poles about every 6 feet!

I stopped at a small riverside boat building yard. These boats are framed with a hard African wood, and the hull is planked with pine boards.

Their two main tools: a big planer, and a hefty bandsaw for cutting all the curves.

Old buildings with a few satellite dishes.

Of course, Porto is the town that invented Port wine. Here’s a good Port NOT in a Port glass, as I didn’t have one available. I can tell you it is very good taken in small quantities: flavorful, sweet and strong.

 

Portugal also invented a very unusual style of ballad, Fado:

I hope to hear some authentic Fado in a local cafe while I’m here. It is a form of music characterized by mournful tunes and lyrics, often about the sea or the life of the poor, and infused with a sentiment of resignation, fatefulness and melancholia. I find it quite compelling.

Some more good graffiti:

 

Another lovely blue sky day here in Porto, so I took the tram out to the beach. Portugal lies on the west coast of the Iberian peninsula, west of Spain, and so has an Atlantic coast beach. The water is cooler than Hawai’i, but that doesn’t keep people from enjoying it. I got there by walking through the Porto city park, which must be as big as the one in San Francisco. It is primarily pine trees and lawn and some lakes, a rather dry parkland:

Anse = beach

 

Anse Aore is rather long, and was attracting swimmers, skim boarders, boogie boards and even a few surfers.

The Portuguese connections with Brazil are still strong, and you see that in the Ipanema-beach like swimwear, and even Brazilian music playing in the beach bars:

 

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I just love the rhythm and sound of Brazilian music–this is Bossa Nova style. This is a family band. The father is from Brazil, and is playing drums. The singer, Denise, was born in Portugal, and loves Porto. Like the ‘umbrella’ hat the guy on the right is wearing? Later, he got up and danced along with the music.

The following Sunday, more people were at the very big beach:

Lovely weather, too. Warm with a nice cool sea breeze.

 

Back in the city center:

The Rosa Mota Pavilion, built in the 50s as a sports stadium, is in dire need of renovation. Sports are no longer played there (which should stand as a note of warning to cities that chase sports teams by subsidizing stadiums that have a limited useful lifetime. There should be a long-term plan for them, including what to do with them when they get old, and who will pay for that!).

The city is trying to preserve the dramatic architectural design, while turning the space to other uses. Financing is a big issue.

 

While having Portuguese pastry and espresso at the grounds of the Palacio Crystal, the proprietors recommended going to Matosinhos, the port area near the beach, for great seafood. I went to the place they recommended, Restaurante Salta-O-Muro. Here’s what I had:

Grilled sole with vegetables, salad, roasted potatoes, beer, olives and bread. The sole, which was bigger than my plate, was grilled to perfection, one of the tastiest fish I have ever eaten, and the whole meal including tip was $21. You get very good value for meals in Porto!

Or what $5.50 will get you with a drink in town, what the locals choose. Cannot complain!

Ah, and the local sweets! So good, so pretty.

I had tried to get a dinner reservation at the best Fado place in Porto for that day, but it was fully booked. They told me that if I came around 10pm, there might be a table free. So after my lovely dinner, I took the tram back into the center of town.

The tram operates on a system where you either have a monthly pass, or buy a ticket at a machine on the platform, and then validate it at a machine before boarding.  They enforce this with random checks where an official walks around the tram checking tickets with a portable machine. If you don’t have one, you are written up and fined heavily.

On the way back last night, a teenager was caught sitting across from me, apparently riding without a ticket. Two officials, one male, one female, got involved. A woman across from me started making comments presumably berating the officials for doing this. It got rather heated, and then the woman grabbed the ID badge around the neck of the female officer, and a push-shove scuffle ensued. Elbows were flying, and I decided to remove myself from harm’s way. Wow! I think the police got called, but my stop came and I did not see the end. Hot Latin tempers!

 

Outside the Fado restaurant, a couple from Brazil sat. They had been waiting since 8pm! We got lucky, due to a no-show, and we were ushered in and seated at a four person table right across from the singers. Casa da Mariquinhas is a narrow small space in a very old stone building, seating perhaps 40 people. As you can see, the lighting is quite dim, so I could not take video. But here is a small audio clip of the superb Fado singer who performed for us:

 

 

Travel day! Car, plane, bus, train, car took me from Glasgow to the Dingle Peninsula via Cork, Ireland. I am not trying to see all of Ireland (it’s big!), nor even saying what is the best to see. I decided to limit my explorations to the southwestern areas west of Cork, Ireland.

Dingle is on the Wild West coast of Ireland, with rugged rocky hillsides, and very old geology and history dating back thousands of years. It ranks very high on most ‘must see’ lists. It was my first destination, driving out from Cork.

I stayed in an old Irish farmhouse now being used for guest accommodations. A simple, traditional design.

The living room is heated by a stove fired with compressed peat. A first for me. It looks a lot like dirt, but burns. Those are compressed blocks of peat in front of the stove. I suppose it is about one step this side of being coal.

On one night, a group of two French guys and a Korean woman were in the other part of the house. We had a shared bath. In the middle of her shower, the fuse blew, and the water went from hot to icy in a quick second. No electricity until 9am the next morning. Oh, well. We were all good sports about it.

On the mantle were lots of family pictures, including this one of the owner’s sister. Wanna bet she had red hair?

Next to the house is one of the remaining ‘beehive huts’ dating to 500BC. The plentiful flat stones of the area were laid up sloping out slightly, so the huts were watertight.

Here are partial remains of a bigger one, just a bit along the coast. You can see the farmhouse at the top left of the picture. This is a very rugged coastline! As you can see, the walls of these huts are quite thick.

Heading north along the coast. These ‘dry stack’ walls are everywhere.

There are some beautiful sheer bluffs.

There are some lovely and amazing rock formations and wildflowers on these rocky points:

This bluff has the remains of a watchtower originally built around 1810, after the French tried to invade Ireland. A series of them were built within sight of each other, like the towers on the Great Wall of China, so they could signal each other. This was later improved and used in World War II.  It is hard to imagine how much work it was to haul all this material up to the ridge top with just horses and carts.

Just below this, a film company recently built a set for the next Star Wars movie. All traces except the footprints of the village are gone. I’ll try to find pictures of the set and add them in here. If you look closely, you can see where the village building were (the square bare patches just before the bay).

 

On the trail up Mount Brandon

Another day, I set off to climb the highest mountain on the Dingle Peninsula (2nd highest in Ireland), Mount Brandon. Named after an Irish Saint, Brenden, it has ‘Way of the Crosses’ crosses numbered 1 to 14 along the pilgrimage way up.

Off in the distance, you can see what are called “The Three Sisters” at the end of a narrow peninsula.

I was the first on the mountain trail, but soon noticed someone a ways behind me. I stopped at as I was about to enter the cloud enveloping the higher reaches, and had a bit of lunch. This fellow caught up with me, and we hiked the rest of the way up and down together. His name is Morris, and he was born near here, in the town of Dingle. He is 79 years old, and has climbed this path more than 100 times in his life. One tough Irishman! This picture is at the summit.

 

After three nights at the farmhouse, I headed further south to the Ring of Kerry and the Ring of Beara. Rings are not like those in Lord of the Rings (rings of power), but rather just designations for roads that ring around the outer edge of a peninsula.

Southwestern Ireland, and my route. Many kilometers of one lane roads! Some slightly wider.

The bluffs at the tip of Kerry near Portmagoo are about 600 feet high and quite spectacular. Several species of sea birds glide on the updrafts west of these massive cliffs. But it’ll cost you 4 euros to see them in this private property. Amazing it is not a park.

I found the Kerry peninsula more touristy and less interesting than Dingle. Too many big tour buses,

Onward to the Beara peninsula to the south!

I’ve been driving the “Wild Atlantic Way”. Not an overstatement. Parts of it are one lane carved into some very high cliffs.

And some rather narrow roads, just slightly wider than my small car. Google Maps routed me on this road as the shortest way to Lauragh. I was soon wondering just how isolated the spot I would emerge at would be! I was lucky, and met no other car on the way.

Down in this area, the roads are often fringed by these flowers.

And so I arrived at the pier at the little village(?) of Lauragh.

I decided to put my fate to the wind. Here is what I found at day’s end: Helen Moriarty’s B&B at Lauragh. It’s the only choice, but fortunately, it is lovely and comfortable inside.

The view from my room. 30 euros with its own bath, and a full Irish cooked breakfast. Good value. Later, some local fresh brown crab on toast for dinner at the pub downstairs, with a pint of local ale. Good evening.

The next day dawned with hardly a cloud in the sky. In more than a month in Northern Europe in June and early July, it’s the first pure blue sky morning I have seen. I must disclose that it rained by afternoon…but that blue sky morning was sweet, and reminded me of how pretty lush green Ireland can be in the sunshine.

A modern Irish home along the road on the Beara Peninsula.

Some sort of aquaculture here in the shallow bay. The owner of the house above tried explaining it, but between his thick Irish accent and some language issues, I still am not sure what is being cultivated. I believe it is some kind of seaweed, but it could be something else!

Horses grazing on the rocky hillsides that are typical here.

More rocks than grass in some cases.

On to Cork, to see a bit more of urban Ireland.

Blarney Castle, near Cork. Bigger than it seems in this picture, and it looks defensible. You can ‘kiss the blarney stone’ and reputedly be given the gift of eloquence. If you look a little beyond the selling pitch, it actually is about having the gift to lie convincingly (as in diplomacy). That I do not need, and as getting to the stone involved shuffling along in a line of tourists for 1 ½ hours, I decided to skip the blarney in favor of the very interesting and extensive gardens.

Blarney House

This is a VERY old rhododendron, more than 30 feet high!

The trunks of this rhododendron are more than 12″ in diameter.

The “Witch’s Kitchen”

And lots of beautiful and unusual flowers.

 

 

 

On an overcast Saturday morning, I took a walk through the nearby campus of the University College of Cork. It is a charming, attractive campus.

The main Quad

A meeting in the Aula Maxima in main Quad

Another large meeting room

The Honan Chapel

Unusual rounded ceiling and Windows inside!

I had not realized the connection of Cork to one of the legendary figures of mathematics, George Boole. His contributions are still having an impact today.

A group of Irish students sitting outside the student building were quite friendly, and agreed to be included here. This is Jessica.

And this is Niamh (a Gaelic name).  Both girls and their friends told me that UCC is an excellent University. In July, it is on break, of course.

I walked back along the Mardyke Walk. This is a classic building, with a Tesla S parked in front. The old and the new.

The River Lee flows through Cork.

A rather unusual structural design for a pedestrian bridge over the River Lee.

A sculpture at the Cork Airport

Ireland has no shortage of tall church steeples.

The River Lee is quite deep well into the middle of town, as this rather large ship proves.

I found Cork to be an attractive middle-size town. I actually liked it better on the whole than Dublin, which is more industrial.

Tomorrow, back to Dublin for a few days before departing for Portugal. I have added more pictures and comments to that post about those days.

Glasgow is a much bigger, more urban city than Edinburgh. My first impression passing through quickly and in the central area was that it was less attractive than Edinburgh. Now, back for two days, and staying in the West End, near the university, I can already tell it has more to offer than I thought at first glance.

There appears to be a tradition in Scotland of having free admission to most museums. I’m writing this on my first morning in Glasgow, before the museums open at 10. It’s clear that what I see today will be only limited by my stamina, and I can tell I’ll wish I had scheduled more time here. A friend says there is a great train museum here. So many good things to see, so little time…I think I’ll head over to the Botanic Garden first, as they are already open.

Mysterious old towers! I like this kind of stuff. This the clock tower of Hunter Hall, the main quadrangle of the University of Glasgow.

 

Time to catch up on redheads. Or, as some call them, gingers. In Fort William, at my favorite cafe, I met Andrew, who was home visiting the town of his birth. He is currently living in Bangkok. His longish hair is neatly knotted in back. He has blue eyes, and cannot tan at all–one side effect of having the full red hair genes. So he must be very careful to not get too much sun exposure.

 

On the train from Fort William to Glasgow, my seatmate was Noemi (a variation of the biblical name Naomi?) from Switzerland. Noemi is a student of biology, not yet sure of specialty, with green eyes. She is touring Scotland while on summer break.

I hope you like faces as much as I do. I will be collecting them around the world as I travel. There is now a gallery of them under the ‘Links’ tab.

 

AirBnB has been very helpful. I am renting apartments all over the world easily with their help. I am not a fan of hotel rooms. Judy and I preferred to rent one bedroom apartments, so I could go into the living room and work when I woke up early, and let her sleep.

In Glasgow, I found this lovely studio. I believe it is the parlor of a fine old home that has been divided up into apartments. The beautiful wood floor must be new, but the moulding looks original. A very pleasant space, and in a great location near the university in the West End. The River Clyde runs through the middle of Glasgow, and the Botanic garden is bordered by the River Kelvin. What student of science can resist that?

I picked up a bike at Glasgow Central Station (3.80 GBP per 24 hours) so I can pedal all over Glasgow. I’m really glad this program (available at most big train stations in the U.K.) is available. I strapped my trekking pack sideways on the front carrier, and pedaled the 2 miles over to my apartment. The art on the wall are glass items made by the artist/owner of the apartment.

The Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum nearby. Did I mention free? You can make a donation, and I have been doing so.

This place is BIG:

One measure of big: can you suspend a full size airplane inside?

John Lavery’s painting of Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova.

I like universities, so I pedaled over to the University of Glasgow, founded 1451. This campus was built later, however, when the University outgrew its original location and was moved.

One of the older departments, but an important one.

There is a very nice Transportation Museum that has lots of antique classic cars, trams, locomotives, and such. On the way over, I rode on ‘National Bike Route 7’. Gotta like a country that has National Bike Routes.

A peek inside the boiler when the front cover is unmatched.

The Botanic Garden is quite nice. It was raining steadily while I was there, but I managed a few good pictures:

One very unusual tree deserves mention, the Monkey Puzzle tree from the Andes mountains of South America. Five seedlings for this tree were brought by Scottish botanist Archibald Menzies in 1795.

 

I biked along an old canal stretching from the River Clyde to the village of

Bowling with quite a history. The Kelvin Docks up here in Glasgow made landing craft used in the invasion of France called ‘D-Day’ in World War II. They were taken down the canal to the River Clyde, and on down to England.

An unusual feature of this canal is that it can be operated by one strong man with the long lever arms you can see in the picture. I was able to move one of the gates myself. A local guy said you are supposed to let lock-keepers do it, though it looked pretty easy.

 

Well, time to bid Glasgow (and Scotland) a fond farewell. Tomorrow I fly to Dublin, and take a train on to Cork to begin explorations of southwestern Ireland.

 

There is a steam railway excursion from Fort William, Highlands, Scotland, UK to Mallaig on the west coast of Scotland. It is called ‘The Jacobite’ (too much history to recount here!). It sounded like fun, so I signed up.

FIring the boiler to get up a head of steam

I think you have to know what you are doing to make this 75 year old locomotive go.

Steam’s up!

Getting ready to go in the antique passenger cars.

 

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From the museum collection.

The stone in this area is very hard, too hard to be cuttable for this purpose, so the long viaduct (seen in the Harry Potter movies) was made out of concrete.

40 miles an hour was the top speed due to the curvy track.

 

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This long curving viaduct has become rather famous since it appeared in a Harry Potter movie, along with the Jacobite train.

Building, building!

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At last we make it into the seaside town of Mallaig. This stubby boat looks made for rough seas.

Quite a decorating job on this warehouse building!

Then, we turned around and went back to Fort William. Quite a pleasant excursion that could let you imagine rail travel some years ago in the days of steam.

I like train travel. It’s a mixture of the feelings of the gently rocking car, the smooth power, the clickety-clack of the wheels, and in the case of the steam train, the whiff of coal smoke, the whistles, the puff-PUFF-puff-Puff of the engine straining to climb the grade, the big plume of smoke and steam. Like cigar smoke, a lot of coal smoke is noxious, but a whiff of either can be intriguing. It is the scent of the industrial past, so you can daydream about what it was like to ride the rails of steel back in the days before cars. Mood, that’s what steam train travel is about for me.

My seat mates on the trip were a family from Switzerland. Their 11 year old daughter Morena was very busy during the trip making drawings, so on the way back, I let her try my iPad Pro for color sketching with the Apple Pencil. In a few minutes, she was better with it than I am. Here is her first sketch:

Good start. Now Morena wants an iPad Pro!

And so ends my last day in the Highlands of Scotland. Tomorrow, I take ScotRail from. Fort William to Glasgow, about a 4 hour journey.