Porto and on and on and on

After Porto, there was Guarda, the highest town in Portugal. We drove up and up and up, literally into the clouds at the top of the mountains. The campsite comprised 90% dust and 10% irritating flies, but was also only 9 Euros a night, and after the ridiculously inflated prices of Spain and Porto, it became an imaginarily lush, green vale of delight. We meant to spend one night, but after wandering round the nooky streets and making cooing sounds at the views, the curiously rock-bottom-cheap wine, we immediately decided to stay longer.

We ate the best food OF ALL TIME - a Francesina, which is basically a meat sandwich covered in cheese, a fried egg and soup, which sounds grimmer than a Spam croissant, but was a truly wondrous discovery. I didn't take a picture because I was too busy eating.

Then we thundered (as much as one can 'thunder' in a Nissan Micra) through the badlands of Extremadurra, and the rest of the south of Spain, to Granada, where we decided to stay in a hostel because it was scarcely more expensive than the stupidly pricey Spanish campsites. And when the temperature is 41 degrees Celsius, a tent sounds as appealing as a Spam croissant. Wait, I've used that one already. Anyway, proof:

In Granada, they can't help giving food away, and lump a huge plate of tapas in front of you with every beer you buy. The beer was necessary because the heat was so fierce, it was like being repeatedly punched in the face by a very hot and angry person.

We duly filled our boots with the beer and food, and hit the road again, to save our sanity from the MENTALIST heat.

Vigo Nearly Killed Me

We've been here a month now, and it seems like only five minutes since we arrived in our first town, Peronne, gently sobbing because of the weather. At the same time, Peronne could be five years ago, such is the difference of the environment we're now in. People, weather, food, towns - are all totally unlike everything else, and next month, it'll be different again. You only have to travel a few miles, or cross one border, and suddenly life is filled with surprises.

For example. We went out one night in Vigo. It was messy. We got back to the tent 16 hours after leaving it, having 'popped out for a quick drink'. This is one of two photos that survived:

It was taken at 8am, as we went on to another club. The other is in a post that will appear on ANBAD on Friday, in a post that covers Vigo's nightlife in more 'depth', including info about a scrape I had with a Russian mobster/pimp, and his mother/prostitute. Stay tuned.

Vigo was great, but now we're in Porto and - holy crap - it's the most beautiful city in the world. It's like stepping back in time, to when Portugal clearly had all of the money that had ever existed, and decided to plough it all into making every building in Porto wonderful.

After a while, you get gorgeous building fatigue, and have remind yourself that the run-down and crumbling house on a narrow street in Nowheresdistrict over there is actually so architecturally delightful that if it was in any other city there'd be books written about it, but here it's just a cobbler's, slowly run by an old man smoking a tiny cigar.

Here's Gem standing beside the most ugly building in Porto.

Seriously. They cover every other building in colourful tiles, so that even the dull ones look zingy and alive. And the cakes! What they lack in style they make up in sheer... custard. And don't get me started on the Bacalao - smoked cod. I've eaten my bodyweight - twice over - in the stuff. Good times. Two months to go...

A View To A Kill

This was the view from our tent in Leketiu, near Bilbao. The town's name may also have been spelt Lekitio, Luketeio or Lekutiu - I just can't remember, because it was so difficult. but the view, and the town, was lovely.

In Other News: Here's two posts on 'sister blog', A New Band A Day, which is, frankly, A New Band Every Other Day at the moment, but who's counting?

1. A blog post about the lovely, and slightly middle class Cahors Fete de Musique.
2. A blog post about Euro Pop, and it's hellish qualities. (You might need to scroll to find that post. It's the July 6th one)

They're probably worth a read, and apparently, this counts as 'cross blog marketing', which is apparently good for a CV, if I ever get a job again.

Yet More "Aren't These Foreigners Funny?" Stuff

Except this time, that sound you can hear is a barrel being wholeheartedly scraped.

Here's a town that almost has a funny name, but doesn't quite:

And here's a bar which might want to rethink it's 'branding strategy' (click for bigger):

No more now, I promise. It's getting a bit xenophobic and I don't want to end up with Jim Davidson as a subscriber.

The Greatest Town Name Of All Time, Ever

Oh, please. This is just getting silly now.

Once again, we drove a day out of our way just for these photos. You just don't usually get opportunities like these you know.