On the way to Porto
So, like, a while ago, K is all, "I have a day off in January. Let's go some place." So I'm like, all, "OK, I'm all over that," and went, "What's up with Ryanair and Deutsche Bahn, for like, cheap travel, you know?"
Ugh. Who can talk/write like that? The bottom line is that Ryanair had a special (which they do almost all the time to almost all of their destinations) and we got tickets for two to Porto, Portugal, for $93 (60 euro). I then had to go look up Porto: Portugal's second largest city after Lisbon, the center of population in the north half of the country, World Heritage site, famous for buildings faced with blue tiles:
Our flight left at 10:40 a.m. on Friday from Frankfurt Hahn, so we had a big debate about whether to drive up Thursday and spend the night, because of 1. the weather, which held the possibility of snow overnight and could make driving early Friday morning treacherous, and 2. the time, as we would have had to arise at 0dark30 to get there in time. In the end we decided to go up Thursday night.
We spent the night at Landhotel Airport Inn in Lautzenhausen, a stone's throw from the airport, where we paid 75 euro for a double room with bath, breakfast for two, 5 days of free parking and rides to and from the airport. We got a bonus in our double room: bunk beds! And the TV had channels in German, English, French, Italian, Russian, Spanish and some unknown language that we later determined to be Portuguese. On almost all those channels, we watched distressing news about Haiti.
In the morning (Friday), the young woman with fire-engine-red hair sitting at the breakfast table next to us spoke English to the desk clerk, German on the phone, and Russian (or possibly Ukrainian) to her companion. Not only do I feel dowdy, but also stupid. I want to dye my hair the clearest, richest, purest purple imaginable. But while that would definitely be attractive on someone 25 years old, it would look a bit odd on my somewhat older head. When I was 25, hair dye was for covering the gray or becoming blond, not for art. So sad. Too young to be a hippy, to old to be a Goth. I missed all the fun!
Ugh. Who can talk/write like that? The bottom line is that Ryanair had a special (which they do almost all the time to almost all of their destinations) and we got tickets for two to Porto, Portugal, for $93 (60 euro). I then had to go look up Porto: Portugal's second largest city after Lisbon, the center of population in the north half of the country, World Heritage site, famous for buildings faced with blue tiles:
Our flight left at 10:40 a.m. on Friday from Frankfurt Hahn, so we had a big debate about whether to drive up Thursday and spend the night, because of 1. the weather, which held the possibility of snow overnight and could make driving early Friday morning treacherous, and 2. the time, as we would have had to arise at 0dark30 to get there in time. In the end we decided to go up Thursday night.
We spent the night at Landhotel Airport Inn in Lautzenhausen, a stone's throw from the airport, where we paid 75 euro for a double room with bath, breakfast for two, 5 days of free parking and rides to and from the airport. We got a bonus in our double room: bunk beds! And the TV had channels in German, English, French, Italian, Russian, Spanish and some unknown language that we later determined to be Portuguese. On almost all those channels, we watched distressing news about Haiti.
In the morning (Friday), the young woman with fire-engine-red hair sitting at the breakfast table next to us spoke English to the desk clerk, German on the phone, and Russian (or possibly Ukrainian) to her companion. Not only do I feel dowdy, but also stupid. I want to dye my hair the clearest, richest, purest purple imaginable. But while that would definitely be attractive on someone 25 years old, it would look a bit odd on my somewhat older head. When I was 25, hair dye was for covering the gray or becoming blond, not for art. So sad. Too young to be a hippy, to old to be a Goth. I missed all the fun!