Portugal Road Trip

After a demi-sleep on Air Canada, we waited in a security line until it was closed when we were the next in line. The cleared the area, so we had german breakfast in Frankfurt. Craig got the sausage and 'kraut, Jon got a meatloaf that was really a massive slice of ham with mustard, and I did the clubhouse sandwich.

Portugal flight was uneventful, we sat apart and I mostly worked on Angry Birds. The humid air of Lisbon welcomed us.

After rounding up our bags, Jon and I got selected to open and explain our bike boxes. Pain but oh well.

Our hosts greeted us outside. Greg is here again, a Coloradan I roomed with on the last day of my last time here. He said it's harder now than before.

We're being driven to Braganca by cute massage therapists who like Arcade Fire and wear converse - globalization seems to be in full effect. Despite a cruising speed of 170kph on the highway, the time between rest stops proved to long for Jon, then I fell too. We'll have to ditch a few of our re-filled pop bottles at the next rest station.

We're carpooling with Vanessa our driver who has to "make her foot like a ballet dancer" to reach the gas pedal enough to keep it pinned. Our other companions are two Dutchmen from Amsterdam.

Dinner consisted of a Galp station I think with a Sagres beer (hope we make it there) and the entire TransPortugal crew so started to see all the familiar faces, including Kate of course. The restaurant was shocked, only the first time though, when the owner shouted "goal" at the top of his lungs at whatever "futbol" match was on.

The dark drive to Braganca after comprised trying not to fall asleep and Vanessa singing along to Portuguese folk songs then subsequent translation dialogue with Jon.

We've finally arrived in Braganca past midnight and it's time to crash.