"Movement is a fantastic privilege." – Pico Iyer
…is not Folgers in your cup; at least, not when you’re in Portugal and your hostel’s kitchen has mountains of coffee beans ready for the grinding. The food selection was otherwise spartan (artificial orange juice and foreign cocoa flakes), but hey, who needs food when you have coffee? (August 21, 2011. Porto, Portugal)
While we were sitting on the moss-encrusted banks of the Douro River, a man descended the wide wooden steps next to us, small dog tucked under his arm. He then proceeded to throw – no, hurl – the dog into the water. The four of us were aghast for only as much time as it took the dog to gather its wits, swim ashore, and bound up the steps. It seemed a matter of routine for this little guy.
Porto is renowned for its port wine. Above, barrels of wine age on anchored boats in the Douro River.
8.20.2011. Porto, Portugal. Vibrant buildings along the Duoro River.
8.20.2011. Porto, Portugal. One long walk and lazy lunch later, we were on the banks of the River Duoro. The river cuts through the middle of the city and empties into the Atlantic Ocean. Sidewalks lined with colorful cafes skirted the river, and the Dom Luís Bridge connected the two sides.
8.20.2011. Porto, Portugal. Not a postcard. Real life.
8.20.2011. Porto, Portugal. Fresh-squeezed orange juice, complete with bobbing seeds.
Molly On the Move 
