Thursday, June 30, 2022

The end of the Roadtrip - from Portugal to Belgium

Portugal was a dream. Our fabulous friends G and T opened up their multiple gorgeous homes for us for the next few days and served as tour guides through the streets and foods of their marvelous country. After a sumptuous lunch in the lush garden of their generations-old house in Porto, we were taken for a long stroll through the old town, gracefully set against the banks of the Douro river. Not so graceful a mere 20 years ago, old Porto apparently underwent some serious community investment by the city and today its azulejo-adorned old merchant houses are absolutely spectacular and equally spectacularly expensive. We had sundowner drinks at the elegant rooftop of Espaco Porto Cruz, across the river in what would appear to be still the city of Porto but was in fact a whole another city of its own, Vila Nova de Gaia. The view was so stunning that I ended up taking over a 100 pictures, possibly persuaded by the copious quantities of porto I consumed there. After a later dinner of endless grilled meats in a local restaurant, we capped the night with a midnight walk to the  Farolim de Felgueiras to see where the river joins the Atlantic ocean (farolim = lighthouse). It was a surreal sight, walking into the warm night, watching giant scary waves crash into the large stones along the stone pathway leading to the lighthouse and the many lonely fishermen throwing fishing rods in the utter darkness with some sort of glowsticks at the end in the roaring surf (what fish in their sound mind would even swim in these insane waves let alone decide to bite on a luminescent bait??). We found the whole sight exceedingly funny (humor possibly fueled by above-mentioned porto drinking).

The next day we took a beautiful walk through the Parque da Cidade do Porto, a giant park in the western part of the city, which borders the Atlantic. The ocean was surprisingly not entirely freezing and a short walk on the beach took us to the neighboring town of Matosinhos (it is truly surprising how easily one leaves Port without realizing it). Matosinhos has always been known as a fishermen’s town, and so naturally, we sat down to lunch with two giant heaps of sardines. That night, we drove to Felgueiras to G and T’s ancestral farm stone house, and we got transported into Portugal’s glorious past for I have seen houses like this only in movies and magazines. The rows and rows of vines in front of the swimming pool were just the cherry on top. 

We had dinner at Restaurante Santa Quiteria, which is one of those places where they only ask you what type of meat you will eat, and the rest is left in their hands.  Once we finalized the choices of fish and lamb, a procession of appetizers, salads, and side dishes began streaming onto the table. We were asked about wine – white or red? Yes, we said. The while was Vinho Verde. The red - who knows. But both were local and fabulous. I think we drank 4 bottles, but I am not sure. Understandably so. We ended our Portuguese adventure with a day trip to Guimarães, a lovely medieval town with well-preserved buildings and an impressive hilltop, 10th-century castle, the tickets to which were illogically sold elsewhere so we ended up not going inside.  Instead, we chose to eat and drink some more in the main square while watching a lovely wedding unfolding at the obligatory church in the square.

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A few pounds heavier, we left beautiful Portugal and flew back to Paris, where we retrieved the car and set off for our next destination, Lille, to visit another good pair of friends. Yet another delightful medieval town tracing its origins as far as the year 620, Lille offers the curious traveler classic European cathedrals, sophisticated shopping (an opportunity utilized by the Diplomat and yours truly), and many enticing restaurants. After the Diplomat purchased a pair of chic light-blue pants, which, according to our friends, highlighted his butt (yes, our friends are French and such comments come naturally to them), we indulged in a pile of delectable Moules-frites, or mussels and fries, and (on the advice of our friends) something called The Welsh, which was a food coma-inducing combination of cheese, beer and ham and certainly not for those watching their waistlines. Of course, we also had a bottle of hearty Côtes du Rhône to go with it. We packed a couple more pounds in France as well…

We were ready for the last leg of our journey - Belgium! Used to hours-long drives of hundreds of kilometers, it was somewhat underwhelming to drive only a couple of hours to Brussels instead. We set off in pouring rain with the intention of stopping for lunch in Ghent, a supposedly particularly delightful medieval town but, unless we intended to swim to lunch, it was not going to be feasible or particularly pleasant to sightsee there. So, on we forged towards Brussels - a city we once saw about 18 years ago. 

After checking into the hotel, the sun finally decided to show up, which was fantastic as we were about to go and have dinner with one of my best friends from college, whom I had not seen for about 10 years or so. Annoyingly, he looked exactly the same - I guess this is what a leisure life of a bachelor does to a man. A mere three (4?) bottles of house wine later, it was as if we had never parted and, after the Diplomat waved a white flag and went to bed, we continued gossiping about old friends, loves, and acquaintances. 

The last stop on the road trip was Antwerp. Admittedly a bit of an unorthodox tourist spot, the reason we had to go there was that we had to finally drop off our car at the State Department warehouse and logistics center there. You see, when State Department diplomats travel across the Atlantic to their next assignment or come back home, our earthly possessions get packaged in giant containers and shipped to Antwerp’s warehouse. From there, they get re-distributed to their final destination, whether by boat, train or truck. When we evacuated from Kyiv, we left the vast majority of our stuff in our apartment there, with zero notion of whether we were ever going to see it again. We drove away in our own car, loaded up with what seemed like a reasonable amount of clothes and cats at the time. Luckily, we recently learned that our luggage was successfully packed out and sent to Antwerp in anticipation of our move to Tel Aviv, our next assignment. 

As far as the car was concerned, we undertook to drive it to the facility ourselves and hence our roadtrip final destination. You should know, the facility in Antwerp is something of a myth - not many of us have ever seen it and we all speculate what happens there, filled with awe and trepidation. Well, we saw it! Antwerp’s port is a maze of warehouses and logistics companies, and we watched un awe giant metal containers being moved with magnetic cranes around. 

In order to prepare for the car drop-off, we had to reorganize the absurd amount of suitcases of varying sizes (7!) we still lugged around since after Antwerp, we were going back to Brussels to board a plane back to the United States. While still in Brussels, we dropped off the vast majority at the airport hotel we were going to stay a few days later prior to flying away and arrived at our Airbnb in Antwerp with just two, TWO, suitcases. Which was lucky since the apartment was on the 4th floor of a no-elevator building.  That was fun for the Diplomat. 

With the car gone, just like that, our roadtrip was over! The bottom line - 5,125 kms, $865 spent on gas, and $286 on tolls. 15 countries in 30 days. Would we do it again? The jury is still out but I find it remarkable that we are still married and still quite like each other.

That night, we met our good friends Y and A for a dinner in downtown Antwerp, with the promise to go dancing that weekend with them. Filled with excitement to see this fascinating city over the next two days, instead, I fell quite ill with severe strep throat. The only thing I did the next two days was lie in bed in the small Airbnb apartment, walk feebly across the street for Chinese dumpling soup, and binge-watch terrible reality shows. Despite my best efforts to get better by Saturday night, no one went partying, which was most unfortunate - dancing in a Belgium nightclub has been an obvious bucket list item for me. Instead, I was feeling better enough to walk to old town for a dinner of rabbit stew at De Bomma’s in Antwerp’s delightful old town.

The next morning we caught the train back to Brussel’s airport, checked in the hotel and spent several hours re-arranging our possessions into the multiple suitcases. Our trip was capped with a dinner at the house of old diplomatic friends of ours from Sweden, who happened to be posted to Brussels and had us over for home-made pizza. It was surreal and comforting to end our epic trip by visiting friends we had not seen for three years and to feel like we were just together last week - the hallmark of a great friendship.

The next morning we flew back home.


1 comment:

  1. Such a journey! You are an amazing writer, and this can be a fun script for a movie! :)

    ReplyDelete