The Time I Went to Porto (and Drank Too Much Port)

Welcome to Porto! I call it the “City of Birds” . Teeny little senoras throw bits of food out of plastic bags until there is none left. At that point, she shoos the birds and starts yelling at the birds to go away in Portuguese.  Their littleness reminds me of my shrinking Italian Nonna…

The legendary Portuguese tart. Luckily for me, I lived on these things for the entire weekend! For three days, my goal was to find the best tart in all of Porto. After 3397r43 tarts, I couldn’t tell you who had the best. They all started to taste the same–the taste of sweet custard and vomit rising up from my depths. I gained 3 pounds.

And the Port.

Oh, the port…

If I wrote an ode to the barrel-aged old Port it would go something like this:

Oh Port

Beloved sweet nectar for the soul,

You make me drunk,

My boyfriend drank you in the Army,

We cuddled for the first time during the lingering effects of you.

Oh Port

Amazing fermented grape drink,

We drink you now in Portugal

And on the plane ride home,

And at the bus stop when we get home and the tram is delayed,

And when we finally get home an hour after our tram is delayed….

How you make my life temporarily complete.

Tip from Sarah: don’t drink too much Port in one sitting. It gives you the wildest hangover.

But not as bad as the hangover from the caiprinias.

That hangover is bad before you ever go to bed. That hangover is bad three hours later.

And that was my dulled down experience in Porto.

Next up: Porto in photos. Enjoy!

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