Meeting up for same breakfast in the hotel we made our plans and subsequently split the group. Non-Blogger and Sarah went shopping one way. Nick on the same mission but different direction and your friendly (yet sometimes overly verbose) blogger trudged up the street in the returned humidity carring loads of clothes to the Marlin Wash.
An hour and half later he was navigating the roads back to the hotel as if he'd lived here for years instead of the actual reality of 3 days. Hopefully the clean clothes will last the next two significant legs before the last one.Combined again, the group headed back to the market to indulge once again in the cheap wares on offer there. As it transpires (found this out the next day as we were leaving the town) that there are no locals shopping there at all. Twice as expensive as what they pay elsewhere. So whilst we're lapping up the cheapness (as compared to home) we're still being ripped off... however the food is different and unique enough to say we're experiencing another culture. The wine is cheap enough (and being carried around in long stem glasses - which just would not happen in a society where lawers dictate social norms) to make us feel it was worth the trip to get here.
Becoming more familiar with the gradients of the town and having half of the crew struggling with dodgy knees, sore legs from the multitude of k`s previously traversed we then astutely took the best path though the milling throngs in the winding cobblestone lined streets to the really cool bridge that spans the chasm.
Another revelation on the ridiculous control we live under at home. This thoroughfare carries the local train system amongst pedestrians. If you're stupid enough to get in the way of the train you get hit.
Didn't see it happen but assume that occasionally it does, and when it does the persons whose fault it was (i.e. the injured person) takes the blame and the trains keep rolling without a significant re-engineering of the situation. At home this would not be allowed to happen because we all have to cater and pay for the pre-remediation of potential stupidity. Needless to say we all had a wonderful time strolling across the span at our own individual pace snaping an untold amount of vista shots on our devices whilst dodging the plethora of other snappers and the occasional public transport vehicle.
From one highlight to another. On the other side we hopped in a cable car which whisked us down to the river front and knocked a heap of potentially painful steps off the journey. Very modern system with extraordinary views of the old town now across the river. This pace is ridiculously photogenic.
Filling in time we stopped for a drink at a riverside Cafe before heading up the hill to get to a wine house... Port house?... Something like that...this is where they store and mature the stuff we've been consuming after it gets shipped down from the mountains where they grow it (heading there tomorrow so the knowledge timing is fabulous). Here we spent a couple of hours learning all about the processes they employ in order to produce vast quantities of the ruby liquid and ship it all over the world.
Probably the most impressive is the scale of the operation, in that it all needs to rest in wooden barrels for many years. The whole side of the chasm is dedicated to the storehouses for this very purpose ... well.. yes... and to catering for the touristy hordes to experience it all as well.
Being a Saturday there was no actual barrel making today. Given there's an election underway though there would have to be some pork-barreling underway in the area somewhere.
And so we barreled through the tour of the dim, dank cellars and then barreled though the most splendid tasting paired with chocolates afterwards.
Another packing miss on the trip. Your blogger had purchased a foldable umbrella and left it the hotel room due to the clear forecast. As the heavens opened up again (it really must be uncomfortably water logged up there) we had to purchase another umbrella at an exorbitant price in order to exit the place with a sense of dignity (i.e. not looking like drowned rats).
All good though, the rain sort of slowly diminished as we passed a bit more time at the same previously frequented Cafe, people watching and just general ambiance soaking. We headed back along the river and crossed the lower section of the bridge just as the sun decided to throw its best light at the area.
The place just keeps on giving.
There is only one but it gets a lot use, so we can say we caught the common fenecular up the hill in order to reduce the loads on the legs and as we'd decided to wing our choice of dinner, our choice was great. A bit of too-ing and fro-ing between establishments resulted in the best outcome of using the accessible loos in one and getting the best food and service in the other. All while probably the worst ever busker crooned and crackelled her way though a limited repotoir outside. We really thought it was a karaoke session, but no. Can only assume the patrons egging her on were doing so for a laugh or they were tone deaf or they were family or they were in on the joke. Not sure, will never know as we skedaddled out of there. Girls to retire to the sanctity of the rooms, boys to head out for night cap which proved to be highly entertaining watching a undercover cop keeping an eye on a deal going down behind us from the door of our Cafe whilst your blogger tried to capture the event surruptiously and failing dismally as he got covered in beer just as the whole scene was unfolding.
We went home to wash up, blog and sleep. That was quite a day...
1 comment:
Where is the photo of the blogger covered in beer?
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