Uma Noite em Portugal

Note: Entry published retroactively My last week at the JFRC (for spring semester) has ended! Monday night featured the Filmmaking class presenting their films (in one of which I had a featured part) and the Voice class performances afterwards. The rest of the final exams have come and gone, and now I am in the earlier days of my three and a half weeks of travel (let's call it "my solo tour") before returning for my summer class. Since I was required to move out of the JFRC with everyone else, but was at least able to store some luggage there, I am now wandering Europe with my laptop and enough clothing to last.
I saved a whole lot of organizing (and packing) for the last minute, being my procrastinating self. The garbages were overflowing from all of the stuff people were leaving behind: clothing, books, and toiletries that no longer mattered. From it all I salvaged a lovely portfolio folder that I could use to separate my travels with print-outs of flight and hostel confirmations. Having all of this to do meant I actually stayed in during "THE LAST NIIIGHT!!1~", during which everyone went out and got wasted before stumbling back in time to leave and get on a flight for America. I was so exhausted from using the previous night to finish papers and study for my last final, and from staying up late that night, that I actually slept through the group flight's early-morning departure and lost my chance to say goodbye to the crew and everyone else taking it. After an essentially smooth move-out and flight however (my third out of Fiumicino's Gate C9), I was on my "solo tour" and in Portugal.My first travel destination was Porto, the second city of Portugal after Lisbon. I knew I wanted to come into the country but I'm no expert on what to see and do there, and Lisbon certainly isn't cheap. From that and the way I tried to book flights, it all came together as me spending about two days (one overnight) in Porto. The most fun part of having meticulously planned out my travel on the Porto Metro from the airport to my hostel was definitely arriving at the hostel and being told "Actually we're full, yes even with your reservation, so here's your money back and we got you a reservation at this affiliated hostel... here's the address and a map." Right at this time I was also struck with a strange allergy-cold-sinus-infection thing so it was totally a welcome adventure and not a horrible inconvenience, but I'm persevering, people.
So, I wander to the general area of this other hostel, and cannot find it to save my life. Thankfully some friendly Portuguese person assisted my search, so I eventually found it and was able to settle into the new place with free WiFi. It's actually a very, very nice hostel too, and probably better than the one I had booked prior. I rest up and de-stress before heading out with my camera for a self-guided tour of the city. I slowly wander to the river, get some food along the way, and take photos. I end up being out for something like three or four hours. The sun sets and the lights come up as I meander past the Torre dos Clérigos and wind my way down to the riverfront. The Rio Douro is nothing special, but the bridge in the distance draws me closer. I eventually get up to the Ponte Luís I and wander around it a bit, but I didn't know anything across the river so I stayed north. Some of the things I saw that night included a theatre playing Annie and an AXA building in the same square, some lovely shops that I had no ability to make purchases in, and the Estação São Bento. That last place is a train station known for its beautiful tile panels in the entranceway depicting some historical scenes.

I loved walking the city some more the next day and taking the metro back to the airport. The food I ate was also rather enjoyable, even with its being cheap and sandwich-oriented on my budget. I tried a francesinha and it was pretty lovely. A lot of the loveliness was soon eclipsed, however, by a dark, dark moment in my life: my first and only Ryanair flight.
I had become an Easyjet fanboy by this point and remain one, but Ryanair was simply the only cheap option from Porto to Madrid. I figured my savvy in discount airlines had developed from a full semester abroad so I booked it and did everything right in terms of my name and knowing the code and showing up early, so what could I possibly do wrong? Well, enough, because Ryanair will find a way. My flight from Rome to Porto was on a decent airline with normal, shall we say humane, standards for luggage. It wasn't until I was checking in with the airline directly fallen out of Satan's arsehole that I realized that my checked bag was over their 15kg weight limit. Yes, I know, I was set up for failure by not just traveling out of a carry-on backpack, but I'm homeless in this saga of my life and traveling for 3½ weeks! Just as well, most airlines I'd dealt with have at least 20kg of weight allowance, so they were being stingy fuckers. They fined me €60 and in my frustration I took whatever I saw out of the suitcase and stuffed it into my backpack. The bag checked and I got in line at security, where they pulled out of my backpack... my toiletries bag. Full of liquids and even a pair of scissors. Why did I choose that of all things to take weight out of the suitcase? Stupid, stupid Tim. All was disposed of and I sat on the stupid cramped plane for two hours, eager to be in Madrid for a few days.