Leaving Figueira.

On Sunday, while Phil was finishing off what everyone assured me was a won chess game, I went walkabout with a friend of ours, stopping for a refreshment along the way. As we strolled down one of the cobbled back streets, not too far away from the promenade, I side-stepped round what looked like a patch of blood on the pavement. Indeed, my friend assured me, it was a bloodstain.

On the Saturday evening, after he had left us, he had gone in search of a live music venue. Which he found and where he enjoyed the music. After an hour or so, in other words at about 1.30 in the morning, he had left there to go in search of another such venue when he had come across a group of young men having a fight. In fact, you could not really call it a proper fight. Four young men were kicking and beating up a fifth young man who was on the ground. and they weren't even gypsies, he said, as if that would make it more normal, just ordinary lads on a night out. What a way to have fun! He had been prepared to intervene, as were several other people, when the police turned up.

So he went on his way, found another music venue and finally made it to bed at 4.00 or 5.00 am, when others were probably considering getting up. Okay, I exaggerate but since he was due to play chess at 10.00 on Saturday morning, this did seem a little reckless. I think he went on to win his game! Late nights must suit him.

After Phil finished his game, which he drew, we went off to O Tuberão da Bebé, Bebé’s Shark, a restaurant that was recommended to us. Not only was it recommended but we had dinner tickets, a system by which the organisers of the tournament sold us tickets at a reasonable price, which could then be redeemed against a menú do día at the restaurant named on the ticket. We had a good soup to start with, followed by a choice of a pork dish or cod in cream, a speciality of Portugal not unlike fish pie, but without the mashed potato. We chose the fish, a tasty enough dish, but rather too copious. We could have done with smaller portions and maybe some salad to go with it. So it goes!

After this large lunch we might all have enjoyed a stroll along the beach, to help the digestion. I had already taken a long walk in the morning while the chess games went on but most of our party had been slaving over a hot chess board all morning. However we had been told that the prize-giving cum closing ceremony was to be at 4.00 pm so we returned to the venue and waited.

And waited and waited and waited. Eventually at around 5.00, or perhaps later, things began to happen. Speeches were made., of which we understood little. We all clapped when everyone else did. Prizes were presented. Drinks and nibbles were consumed and goodbyes were said.

On Monday morning we breakfasted early and waited for a lift to Porto, courtesy of the organiser, who felt that it was only right for him to provide such a service. How very civilised!

En route to Porto I noticed far more areas of burnt forest than I had spotted on our way to Figueira a week previously. Maybe the morning sun made it all clearer. The closer we got to Porto, the less of this we saw. There was also surprisingly little to be seen from the bus as we travelled later from Porto to Vigo. And yet we know that there were fires. Presumably just not along our bus route.

Porto was bright and sunny. We had time while waiting for the bus to go and have some lunch. Our joint memory told us of a particular restaurant that we had enjoyed in the past, somewhere close to Avenida dos Aliados. So off we went, trailing our suitcases, in search of a Proustian moment!

Almost half an hour later and after much wandering around, we found it. At least we think it was the same one: O Marinheiro, a family run restaurant where we had an excellent sopa de peixe followed by robalo, sea bass, washed down with a fine glass of wine. We even treated ourselves to icecream for dessert. And then off to catch the bus.

A fine end to another week’s adventuring!