The first time we entered Casa Natal, I could hardly contain my enthusiasm. Of course, not wanting to embarrass myself I kept my glee in check, but oh… in my head a party was going on.
There were a few things we didn’t know as we stepped off the train in Seville. We didn’t know where the bus stop was, nor did we know how to get to our hotel. But the biggest thing we weren’t prepared for was how unbelievably hot it was.
Our relationship with the City of Porto began in 2010 when Abi and our son took a Port wine – vinho do Porto – tour of the Douro Valley and it’s when they first met Andreia and were introduced to the Kopke Port Cellar.
Before settling in to our life among the locals in Porto, we spent ten glorious and utterly
lazy relaxing days in Malaga, Spain. It was the perfect respite for two old hobos who needed to unpack and soothe their weary bones after three months of fast-paced travel through nine incredible European countries. Funny thing is, we never intended to land in Malaga. Had it not been for a reunion with vacationing friends, we might never have known the beautiful wonders the city offered.
It seemed as if our flight was never going to leave Porto as we waited – and waited – to board the airplane. Scheduled to leave at 11:30 a.m. we saw the flight crew board the plane at 10:50 a.m. and we knew there was no way. And, 30 minutes later we were still waiting. Finally, we taxied down the runway at 12:30 p.m. and off we flew toward the United States. We were heading home, ahead of schedule, but for a very good reason.