the ocean

We're back in our own house again for the first time in nine days and it feels amazing. I am super pumped to pee outside the presence of a bidet and eat a breakfast that doesn't offer olive loaf again. But it was a great trip, truly. Lisbon was sunny and stately and we were randomly offered drugs at least six times while walking down the street. Sintra was beautiful and quaint and so hilly that a tuk tuk ride ultimately seemed very plausible, if still potentially deadly. And Porto was cool and craggy and full of sandwiches covered with cheese and egg. I will have more to say about all of them in the future, I am sure, and not just because I rarely if ever have anything interesting to write about here. (But mostly.)

Of course, the reason for the trip was my friends' wedding, which was at a hotel that also happened to be a vineyard in the Douro wine valley. It was basically a series of Instagram perfect events, up to and including pink fluffy clouds at sunset and a private fireworks display. The hotel was run and owned by a salty older lady who kept bringing out food and barking commands at the staff in Portuguese, and I'm told a woman sometimes referred to as the Portuguese Oprah was staying there at the same time as us. It was admittedly a bit isolated at times; I had to go to the main lobby to ensure solid internet service and to a BP a mile and a half away to buy cigarettes and Red Bull for the assembled guests. But I think it was honestly good for me to be in a world without Facebook for a bit, and not just for the few hours this week it was down for everyone.

Taking a car ninety minutes each way to visit said winery is a whole other story; I did have some fear of being left for dead in a picturesque arbor somewhere. But I am not dead, so I guess it all worked out. Well, I'm somewhat dead; I'm hoping a good night's sleep will somewhat cure me.