…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.
8.20.2011. Porto, Portugal. Fresh-squeezed orange juice, complete with bobbing seeds.