A Bromantic Weekend in Porto

posted on November 1, 2009 in Stuff

What with Disco Stu being an International DJ and me being an International Weapon of Limited Destruction, our paths don’t cross nearly enough. We endeavoured to resolve this lack of hot one on one by heading to Porto.

For the second (and please God last) time this year my weekend began by bedding down with my fellow man behind the fogged windows of a hatchback car. Think that scene in ‘Titanic’ minus the happy ending.

Sleeping in a Focus

Porto is a good looking place set on the Douro River, within the Norte region of Portugal. It’s famous for Port wine and maybe other stuff, but nothing that really concerns me. We were of course there purely for romance.

Douro River at night

To this end Stu and I took a pleasant boat trip up and down the Douro to look at the bridges. There are 6 of them. I counted.

Dom Luis I bridge

We then visited one of the many Port Wine Cellars to sample some Port. They only let it ferment for a few days, so not all the sugar is converted to alcohol and it retains a sweet flavour. Stu took a photo and I did a silly face.

Port tasting

We also met some Portuguese girls. Coincidentally they had been on holiday to Alicante in the Summer. Whilst there they had, coincidentally, stayed in the same hostel as a pirate themed Stag Do from England.  The fact we were now in Porto must also have been a Large Coincidence and not an instance of the longest range, most tiring (and most expensive) case of stalking to grace the world of male delusionism.

Portuguese girls

I think I’ve met that special someone. I had an inkling ever since the Stag Do of Truth when we had danced all night and frollicked together in the sea. There was something there, just beneath the surface, and I think they knew it too. It took this trip to Porto for me to realise it. The only problem is they live so bloody far away. I mean, who rents a house in Bolton? If I want to see him it’s like a half hour drive! I will have to make do with listening to one of his Ibiza mixes while stroking his photo.

The Stu and I

If you are fortunate enough to meet nice people from interesting places, you often through politeness or as a useful tool for ending a conversation invite them to visit in the indeterminate future. Let this be a lesson. Don’t invite us. We will turn up on your doorstep with a crate of beer and a phrase book. I think the only people who were more surprised to see us than the girls, were the girl’s boyfriends. Why had these drunk Englishmen turned up to visit their flock? I’m sure they understood.

Had I known that the romance was going to be between Stu and myself maybe I wouldn’t have been so eager. Who am I kidding? I would’ve been more eager.

Where next?

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