When Christmas comes early

I have always been fascinated by my colonial connection. Being from Goa meant that while the rest of the country celebrated 15th August as its independence day, for us it was 19th December. It made us different and I got a huge kick out of it. My grandparents were probed constantly with endless queries about their life under Portuguese rule. Grandpa had Portuguese as a compulsory subject in school, a fact which he came to regret when I decided to learn the language from him. So it was natural that when I finally found myself in Europe, I couldn’t possibly leave without a visit to the 'motherland'.
Unfortunately, by the time a trip to Portugal became a reality, my friends had become homesick and headed back to India. So I would be making this trip alone. On the bright side, my flight to Porto was from the one city in Europe that I have the best memories of - Barcelona! I decided to get to Barca a day before my flight coz I was yet to visit the Camp Nou, home to one of my favorite football clubs - FC Barcelona. And since I was in Barcelona, I couldn’t resist going back to La Rambla - the one street in Europe so vibrant and buzzing with life, it makes the Champs Elysees look pale. Barcelona never fails to surprise you and while strolling in one of the Rambla's bylanes I came across a Gelataria. A lot was on offer and I picked one of the desserts rather than the regular ice-cream. Banana-stuffed waffles topped with Vanilla ice-cream, chocolate sauce and loaded with pralines - Brilliant! A work of art, just like everything else in Barcelona. After a visit to Estadio Camp Nou the next day, I headed for Girona from where I had a flight to Porto. After a Ryanair journey that took two hours instead of one and scared the shit out of all the passengers (they were actually clapping after landing), I was finally in Porto.
After a rather longish ride on the metro, I got off at Bolhao and saw a huge cloud of smoke at the exit. There was no need to worry though, it was winter and time for Castanhas Assadas - roasted chestnuts sold all over Portugal by street vendors. I bought a few and devoured them on my way to the hostel. After a quick check-in, I headed out for a stroll. What struck me immediately was how each and every street in Porto was lit up for Christmas. Moreover, every street had its own pattern of lighting. Buses went past with 'Feliz Natal (Merry Christmas in Portuguese)' written on them. When I asked a man on the street for a lighter, he too said "Feliz Natal" after my Obrigado. At Aliados square, there was a six-storey high Christmas tree with elaborate decorative lighting on it and an artificial ice-skating rink for kids. What's so surprising about all this you ask? Well, it was the 7th of December. Looks like Christmas comes early in this part of the world.
After a quick visit to the famed Ribeira district, it was time for dinner for which I had the perfect plan in mind. As always, a local specialty. A meat bonanza. The Francesinha! Porto is known for its meat and Ham and Sausage-making tradition and the Francesinha is what captures it best. Wet-cured ham (Fiambre), a spiced Portuguese sausage called linguiça, roast pork and beef steak stuffed between two slices of bread, covered with Saloio cheese, baked (so that the cheese melts) then drenched in tomato and beer sauce and loaded with French fries. Are you salivating already?

Restaurants serving Francesinha can be found all over Porto and I wasted no time in entering an affordable-looking one near Aliados. I ordered beer in anticipation of a heavy meal and was served Porto's very own brew - SuperBock. It was an excellent beer and the waiter even served assorted meat and fish cutlets - all complimentary! The Francesinha was brilliant too and once again, I was stuffed on my way back to the Hostel.
The next day started with a walk through Porto's famous market - the Bolhao, which was very close to the hostel. Fresh fish, big chunks of ham, a huge variety of sausages and vendors shouting at the top of their lungs - it was a heady mix. Porto has a lot of interesting sights and I managed to catch quite a few of them that morning - splendid Azulejos (tile paintings) at Sao Bento railway station, Sao Francisco church ( I have never seen so much gold in one place), and the Douro riverside. But the moment of the trip came when I was in another famous church - Igreja dos Clerigos - and a group of youngsters at the altar started singing Christmas Carols in Portuguese. I cannot describe the feeling - I am so happy to be here! I don’t care if I am alone, I don’t care if my friends are not with me, they are the ones who missed out. This trip is a Christmas gift! - that's how I felt.
After all of this, there was one last thing left to do in Porto - taste and buy Port Wine. After years of drinking the cheap Wedding Bells brand that came from Goa, it was time to try the real thing. Signs of the Port-making tradition can be seen everywhere in Porto, especially in the traditional boats called rebelos that were used to transport the wine down the Douro in medieval times and are still seen parked on the riverfront.

The Port Wine lodges are located in a town called Vila Nova de Gaia which is across the river from Porto and I got there by crossing the Dom Luis bridge - built by Gustav Eiffel in his characteristic style. There are several wine lodges in Vila Nova -Taylor, Croft, Sandeman, Calem etc. I went to Taylor's, the best known lodge only to be disappointed when the guard said "Segunda só (Mondays only)". So Croft it was. Thankfully this one was open to visits and it did not disappoint. It had a plethora of equipment traditionally used to make Port Wine and also, some of the oldest barrels used to store it.

There is an Old Portuguese proverb which says 'Every wine would choose to be Port if it could'. I couldn’t agree more when I tasted some of the vintage stuff. I bought a bottle of Tawny (a bottle of vintage can be really expensive) on my way out.I don’t know how to explain it but Porto was the one place in Europe that I found the most welcoming, I felt at home here. I don’t know why, maybe because I knew the language, maybe because of the Christmas spirit. But I felt a certain joy here that I did not feel in the rest of Europe. I will return for sure.

Too much of a good thing

Before I start this post, there is a confession I have to make, just to set the tone. Along with drinking and smoking, I also like to stone from time to time. For the uninitiated, this means that I smoke Marijuana and let me make it clear that I dont think there is anything wrong about it. You must have guessed by now that the post is about my trip to Amsterdam.
Throughout our 3 month stay in Europe, Amsterdam was the one place that we wanted to visit the most. But it was also the place that made us wait the most. Trains being full, youth hostel being booked out, the trip to Italy during the long vacation, something always got in our way. But since it was a must-see destination for us, we decided to rough it out and took a long tortuous route involving 4 train rides and atleast 24 hours. But amazingly when we got there, none of us was feeling the least bit fatigued. Maybe it was because the excitement of being in Amsterdam made us all forget about what we had been through to get there.
After a bit of searching we found our hostel in Vondelpark and checked in quickly before heading out in search of a quintessential Amsterdam stoning place - The coffee shop. A Coffee shop in Amsterdam lingo means a small cafe that sells soft drugs (Marijuana and Hashish) along with smoking paraphernalia and some food and drink. Fortunately enough, the best known Coffee Shop in all of Amsterdam, the Bulldog was very close to Vondelpark and we went there right away.
Marijuana hits you harder after stressful work or travel, so we were looking for something on the mild side. So that's what we asked for in the coffee shop. This would have worked just fine but for the man behind the counter. He was a Briton straight out of a Guy Ritchie gangster movie, white hair, tough-looking and all. As soon as he heard us ask for some 'mellow stuff' he chuckled and said in characteristic style, "Mellow? Fuck mellow!! You're in Amsterdam man!! Here, this is a packet of White Widow. It's great. Enjoy your time in Amsterdam". So White Widow it was.
Bulldog totally lived up to it's reputation. It had a great character for an owner as I already mentioned and also played great music which is always important for a good stoning experience. After getting a good seat, we quickly rolled a joint and smoked the first of our Amsterdam weed. Needless to say, it was phenomenally good. One joint and we were all in a good place. The going looked good till one of my friends went blank, I mean literally. We later found out that White Widow has strong visual effects and is not for irregular stoners. My friend was one. Anyway after a scare and a few glasses of water, he was fine. We soon got the munchies (Marijuana is known to cause manic hunger) and set out in search of the typical Amsterdam stoner-snack - French fries with mayonnaise.
Amsterdam is full of small shops and fast-food joints selling these and soon, we found ourselves in a small restaurant munching on french fries drenched in mayonnaise and chilli sauce. There were other toppings too including ketchup and curry.
With marijuana out of the way, it was time to try some Hashish. We thought we should go to a number of coffee shops and went to a new one near the station this time. After picking out some good stuff, we went to a park near the station and smoked outdoors, just to make it different. The high was different (coz it was hashish) and the crowds of tourists and locals going pasts us just added to the bizarre feeling. What's more Amsterdam is more or less a maze of canals and lanes criss-crossing them and the walk back to our hostel was something I just cannot describe in words.
The next day was begun with another variety of soft drug - the Hash Brownie, also called space cake. This is a Chocolate Brownie with hashish as one of its ingredients. And the venue for it had to be a Rastafarian cafe. We found one in good time and it was appropriately called RastaBaby. Hash Brownies and coffee with Rastafarian music playing in the background, I rest my case. Hash Brownies generally take some time before they give you a high, so we decided to smoke a J in the meantime. Bad idea. We were totally blown at the end of it. The rest of the day was spent in an endless number of visits to various Coffee Shops (BullDog included, of course) and copious amounts of Marijuana and Hashish followed by eating binges to quench the munchies. Sometimes French Fries with Mayonnaise and Chilly Sauce, sometimes Hot Dogs, Sometimes Burgers, it just went on.
The third and last day in Amsterdam proved to be the most dramatic. The day started at BullDog with a repeat of the White Widow. After getting sufficiently stoned, we went to lunch at a place called 'Wok it Up' which serves stir-fry. We hogged a lot and then moved on to the next level of intoxication - psychedelic mushrooms. Now this shit can be twisted. Some of them are known to cause severe hallucinations and have even driven a few people to suicide. We knew we had to be careful. We told the owner of the smart shop that we were first time users. This worked a little too well and he gave us the mildest variety of Mexican mushrooms - maybe he thought we were first time stoners as well. The mushrooms gave us a different kind of high and though they didnt cause any hallucinations, we enjoyed the experience. Later in the evening we visited yet another Coffee Shop to smoke one of the best and most potent varieties of Hashish in the world - Manali Cream. The combination of mushrooms and the strong hashish gave us a new high altogether and also made us very hungry. We had seen a place that said it served an eat-all-you-can Chinese meal for around 8 Euros. This was too tempting and we set out in search of the place. But we were damn stoned and the maze of streets and canals that is Amsterdam didnt quite help. After about an hour of searching we finally gave up and settled for the French Fries.
And thats when I started to get anxious. We had spent a lot of money already and had stoned as much as we could in the given period of time. We had tickets to go back to Toulouse early next morning and the fear of getting up too late and missing the train was making me paranoid. Amsterdam had proven to be too much of a good thing. We had to get out. Spending half of our Eurotrip budgets in this city was not something we were ready for. Back at the hostel I set an alarm on my cell phone which made sure we got up on time and took the train. I was glad we could make it but also knew I would miss this place. After all, too much of a good thing is also a good thing.