Summer’s on the mind lately… Chris and I just bought our first grill the other day. We can cook 60 burgers at once. It’s part propance, part charcoal. No joke. We’ve been absolutely helpless without one; no idea what to cook night after night. Who uses a stove to make a steak? Pfft. I’ve made it a goal to cook such a quantity of burger magnitude. Just once. We can’t wait for the weather to turn so we can start enjoying our beachy apartment. It’s been beautiful snow-wise though, I must admit.

We’ve been talking vacation, so I thought posting a shot from a pretty little girl looking over the waters of the Douro River from Vila Nova de Gaia would sort of symbolize how I feel about Summer a’coming – through the looking glass. For now.

It’s coming, it’s coming, it’s coming…

It’s been a bit hectic in my little bubble of the world. Amidst the non-stop, thrill ride that is my life, I’ve been missing the entirely different kind of exhaustion I experienced on my trip to Europe over the summer. It seemed as though people encountered in Portugal were walking a completely different pace. Very simple, humble, kind people that just go about their life and take it as it comes. The weather was optimal, the atmosphere is calm, the historic scenery is beautiful (in it’s crumbling ruins sort of way), and I just really miss that.

Nice kids just loitering around a marvelously, partially-graffitied fountain in one of the many public squares. It actually upsets me that I cannot remember what it’s called because that means it’s been far too long since departure. Old men chuckle amid a Portuguese conversation. Siiigh.

On a side note: lack of updates is caused by intense workarhea combined with relentless, rigid apartment foraging with my super awesome boyfriend (signed a lease Monday – woohoo!) with a side of need for sleep. Dam you, Winter, with your short days and inducing of melatonin.

A couple embrace alongside the Douro in Villa Nova de Gaia. It’s hard not to feel the love in this region, but I’m sure the potency of the Port wines in the cellars that the line this river could have something to do with the euphoric, splendid feeling…

Churchgoers pray before gilded shrines at Igreja da Trindade in Porto. Having gone to Catholic school for fourteen years and being generally detached from organized religion, it’s amazing to see what a stronghold one’s faith can have on a life. For these people, this is their mediation. Devoted, with heavy heads bowed slightly, not a single stir disrupted their stance.

Nearing sunset, the city shines in blocks of color. An illustrated series of lines and crossings; it takes a moment to find where one building starts and another ends. The walls speak the years of wear and tear. The modern hints almost seem out of place. It would be nicer to see them without technology, but I guess that would be hypocritical. Locals make their way through the quiet, cobblestone streets. No matter where you go, no matter how quiet, the walls are bellowing.

It would seem there was no method to the madness, but would also appear to be the standard landscape in these parts. This old city is alive because of its ruins. Every now and then you might amble across an alley that yielded a soft undertone.

Colorful linens hung to dry while fastidious elderly Portuguese ladies peep out like little mice from behind sills to assess the situation.

Oh, Porto! The enchanting city is built on a steep hill that kept us on our toes and gave me shin splints. When you arrive in place like Porto for the first time, in the middle of the night, the narrow alleyways with their slender, quiet facades resembling Eastern Bloc are somewhat formidable. There wasn’t a person in sight until we reached the Douro. Once approached by a local, the trepidation completely vanished.

The culture was fascinating. The natives were the friendliest, most accommodating, considerate souls I’ve ever come across. People there live for the good of others. Being selfless is selfish. It is a simple way of life. Laundry hangs on lines constructed out of twigs and twine were. The public laundromat is a constantly flowing pool of water. The water is colored aquamarine with an abundance of fish. There are just some observations on our venture to Gaia.

If architecture could talk, I wonder what it would say. Many of the buildings we passed were in a state of disrepair. We found out later that most of the buildings were passed down as family heirlooms, but some of the families are too poor to maintain the upkeep. If the buildings are not occupied, they’re technically tax-free. So they sit there and rot. Many of the buildings were nothing but the facade, maybe a beam or two that passed the toll of time. I found something charming in their disintegration. This one in particular had a great view:

Let it be known, if you’re looking for quality food and drink for prices you wouldn’t imagine still possible in this day and age, go to Porto. Go to their butchers and eat their meat. Go to the store and buy their vegetables. Buy their wine for one Euro (and it’s better than any other wine your ever had, seriously). You will be eternally satisfied.