Notes to Home

Hi, it’s me. Okay. I know what you’re thinking. There’s been radio silence for way too long. Yes, I’m very far behind on these ‘weekly’ notes to home. I’ve got two reasons to come to my defence.

• One: I don’t want the quality of them to slip. It would be so easy to write a few bullet points summarising our days and churn the entries out like butter. But that’s not my style, and anyway, I designed these weekly updates to be a collection of stories for our loved ones back home and for us to look back on one day and reminisce about travelling in our 20s.
• Two: we have spent the past three weeks jam-packing our days with adventure in the outdoors, fab food, cocktails and good old-fashioned quality time. It’s been bliss, and all I’ve wanted to do is stay in the moment and relish every second of it. 

So I hope you’ll forgive my tardiness. But a lack of updates doesn’t mean my Notes app hasn’t remained chocker full of little anecdotes and memories of our travels !! And now, at long last, I’ve got myself organised and am ready to share them with all of you. 

Find out what we got up in my latest Notes to Home below. <33

1. Wednesday 5th July
2. Thursday 6th July
3. Friday 7th July
4. Saturday 8th July
5. Sunday 9th July
6. Monday 10th July
7. Tuesday 11th July

Wednesday 5th July

Our days in Porto are slow, sleepy and full of quiet moments. Mathew and I have spent a lot of time checking in with each other over the last six weeks; we’re constantly asking ourselves which destinations we’ve loved the most, which we’d rather not return to, and which we’d love to bring our friends and families to one day. 

On our first day in Porto, we walked through the city in the evening on the day to Jardim do Morro for sunset and passed a girl chatting about her time in this little Portuguese city. She said (and I quote), “I’m pleased I’ve come here, but I don’t feel like I need to come back.” Mathew and I were taken aback, as our first impressions of Porto were overwhelmingly good. But, after spending a week here, I can confidently say that she hit the nail on the head; her words sum up how I feel to a tee. Porto is beautiful, brilliant, vibrant, incredibly walkable, and safe, and the people are lovely. It’s been a brilliant ease into the Portuguese stretch of our travels, but I wouldn’t return. Not because I haven’t enjoyed my time but because it feels like something is missing; the longer we spend here, the more apparent it becomes. 

So, this morning we had another sleepy, lazy start to the day. We’ve ticked off almost everything to do in Porto that is free (or budget-friendly) except visit Mercado do Bolhão. 

If you’ve been to Porto, you’ll know that Mercado do Bolhão is an iconic, historic, bi-level market in a stunning neoclassical building. Vendors line the sides of the hall selling produce and beautifully presented pre-prepared foods. As we walked through the front doors, I was immediately greeted with stalls fashioned out of wooden tables, groaning under the weight of olives, cured meats and artisanal cheese, fresh fruits, wine sold by the glass and the all-important Pastel de Nata.

The produce at Mercado do Bolhão isn’t expensive by any means. Still, we exercised our right to budget travel with a 2€ glass of fresh mango juice for Mathew and unwrapped our picnic from home. There’s just something about eating pre-made sandwiches and people-watching in a foreign country. 

After lunch, we went for yet another walk around downtown Porto. We’ve got a fairly familiar route now (having had the luxury of doing this daily); however, this afternoon, we must have taken a wrong turn and ended up in a new city area. We both get so excited each time we find a new corner to explore, and the view from today’s location did the trick. 

After a bit more walking, we stumbled upon Sao Bento Station, which (shocker) we hadn’t visited yet but had heard many good things about. Sao Bento is a fully operational train station in the Historic Centre of Porto, except it doubles as both a museum and an art gallery. Built in 1904, murals and vast panels of azulejo tile decorate the walls inside Sao Bento. The murals represent moments in the country’s history, and the multicoloured panels depict rural scenes showing the people of various regions. And, because of its history, Sao Bento has been declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site and a National Monument of Portugal.

I loved it here more than I thought it would; visiting historic sites always makes you consider your position in the world and think about all the people who came before you and made our world what it is today. 

Thursday 6th July

I’m almost (key word, almost) too embarrassed to tell you that we didn’t get out of bed until 5 pm today. 5 PM!!!

After about two months of days jam-packed with activities, we took a day off to slob about in our air-conditioned house and caught up on writing, work and trip planning. Or, in Mathew’s case, binge-watch Transformers. 

It was delish, but a day in bed doesn’t do much to make you feel like the most productive person on the planet. However, the day was not lost – it was Thursday night, after all! So, the clock struck 5 pm, and we got changed and headed out of the door searching for two things: sangria and a charcuterie board. 

Our backpacker’s budget has been relatively tight over the past few weeks (that’s the Dolomites and South of France for you). We’ve been cooking all of our food (and eating a hell of a lot of ice cream) and haven’t eaten out since we were in Rome. So, eating out tonight was a reeeeaaaal treat. 

Adega Lenor (highly recommend if you’re in Porto) ended up being the perfect spot to waste away an evening basking in the sun and people-watching. Sangria, mojitos and nibbles for dinner – you can’t beat it!

See you tomorrow x

Friday 7th July

Do you ever have those days when you wake up and expect that it will be the best day ever, only for everything to go wrong? Yep? Us too. 

Our last day in Porto started bright and early; naturally, one last trip to the beach was on the cards. We’re yet to visit the Fox district, but I’ve heard it’s beautiful and well worth the effort to get out there. It’s more challenging to get to than the beaches we visited earlier this week (you’ve got to take the metro and a bus), but we’re determined to make our last Porto-bound beach day a good one. 

Racing out the door for the bus at 10 am, we make it halfway down the street only to find my t-shirt was covered in something suspect. If you know me, you know that wearing dirty clothes is my all-time least favourite thing in the world. Sorry, I know I’m buying into the cliche of being a girl, but it makes me feel itchy in a way you wouldn’t believe. So, we turn on our heels and march straight up the street to soak away my sorrows in hot soapy water. Unfortunately, this little snaffoo made us miss our first bus (sorry, Mathew), and subsequently find there wasn’t another for 45 minutes. 

Not to worry, trusty Google Maps has never led me astray and says we can take another bus from the other side of town. We head in that direction to reload our transport cards (another thing we’ve forgotten to do)—bloody mistake. If you’re travelling to Porto, for the love of god, always have credit on your Andante passes. Otherwise, you’ll wait in line at the top-up machine for 20 minutes and miss your second bus (and train). Jesus, take the wheel. 

Marching back across town, we find that our third (and hopefully final bus of the morning) is delayed, and we’ve got to wait another half an hour. Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem (slow travel and all). However, it’s now gone midday, we’re still an hour from the beach, and our relationship is hanging on by a loosely woven thread. Brilliant.

At long last, we make arrive at Praia do Molhe.

After our morning wrestling with the Portuguese public transport system, it’s a sight for sore eyes. We settle for a spot of sunbathing (covering my still excruciating sunburnt chest and shoulders, of course) and unpack our lunch, towels and beach bag, ready to camp out for the remainder of the day. As I close my eyes, I see Mathew heading off to play Dora the Explorer around the rock pools (I’m yet to meet a man who can sit still for more than 3 ½ minutes).

An hour passes, and I sit up half asleep, half dead in a sun-induced slumber, to see Mathew sitting on the rocks in the distance, picking at his foot. Well, I tell myself, that’s none of my business. However, ten minutes pass, and he’s still there, and then just as I am about to shout and ask if he is okay, he begins to make his way back up the beach. Limping; yep, you heard that right. That’s never a good sign. 

Mathew plonks himself back down on our towels. I half expect him to tell me he’s stubbed his toe (if you know Mathew, you’ll know he’s just about the most dramatic individual you’ll ever meet in your entire life). No, that would be far too simple. Instead, he’s gone head to head (or rather, foot to foot) with the rock pools and has the contents of half a sea urchin in the bottom of his foot. Christ.

(Trigger warning for my next photo: feet & urchin).

In pain and with no way of getting the spikes (did I mention that there were nineteen of them) out of his foot, we pack up our things after less time on the beach than we spent on this morning’s bus and head back into Porto in search of pain killers and tweezers. I jump off the bus early to get our shopping done, and Mathew starts walking (or rather, limping) home on a promise of letting me through the door when I return. 

Shopping secured, I make my way back up the ever-arduous hill to our apartment and, low and behold, find that Mathew is in a world of his own and ‘unable’ to make it to the front door of the building. After twenty minutes, five phone calls and a rather colourful text message, an elderly Portuguese man lets me in; thank you very much. 

The rest of the evening is a bust. The sunset we were supposed to see is replaced with a makeshift A&E session as we both succumb to the fact that today is not our day. We’ll have to try again in Lisbon tomorrow. See you then.

Saturday 8th July

This morning we said goodbye to our lovely little house in Porto. If you’re ever in town, you must stay at this Air BnB (Casinhas na Baixa – We take care of the details). It’s exceptionally affordable, in a great location, the hosts are lovely, AND you get a cleaning service every day. Talk about value for money!

We head out toward the central bus station to board our last FlixBus to Lisbon. We’ve used FlixBus a handful of times on this trip, and it’s safe to say they’re godawful (but very cheap), and we’ll be pleased to see the back of them, hahaha.

However, the gods are looking down on us. Clearly, FlixBus works on a ‘fourth time lucky’ regime because this time, we didn’t have a driver that sped down the roads like a madman, AND they treated us to air conditioning. What is the world coming to?

We arrived in Lisbon at 4 pm this afternoon. The ride between Porto and Lisbon is beautiful, full of quaint little towns and countryside. Then, it was time to wrestle with another public transport system (I’m still not over yesterday’s disaster). We jumped on the metro to a station near our apartment, and then it was time to begin the gruelling walk to our home for the next five days. If I thought the hills in Porto were bad, I had another thing coming, let me tell you. 

Sweaty, hot, and with a relationship hanging on by a thread, we checked into our Air BnB and were greeted by the most eclectic (I think, in this case, that word might be too generous) dude I’ve met in a while. Nice? Yes. Bizarre? Also yes. We mounted the stairs (I say mount because they were less like stairs and more like a ladder) to our apartment. Upon opening the front door, we are instantly greeted by the MOST books I have ever seen outside a library. I’m not kidding; they were everywhere. And the smell. Good god. Our last house has lulled us into a false sense of security. Right now, I feel like I have walked into the lair of an extreme halitosis sufferer. 

As the clock strikes 6 pm, we take turns using the tiny shower, and whilst Mathew cleans up, I disinfect our bedroom (it’s all very romantic). Not to worry, not all is lost. We get changed and head out in search of the obligatory ‘Welcome to a new city’ drink and stumble into a bar whose name I cannot remember but served ice-cold mojitos outside in a little alleyway where we could watch the world go by. Talk about salvaging the evening. 

We spend almost two hours in the bar, talking about our adventures, what we love in life and what we could go without, our families and those closest to us and what we want the next ten years of our lives to look like. Talking to each other, and connecting in this way, has been one of the most unexpected surprises of this trip so far. You might wonder what I was expecting, given that we’ve been together every waking moment for the past two months. But instead of sitting in silence, I feel like we’re scratching further underneath the surface of ‘small talk’ (if you know us, you’ll know we’re not huge ‘chatters’ with each other) and connecting in a way we haven’t done before. It’s been lovely, and I feel closer together than I had ever thought possible. 

Mushiness over, we leave our lovely little bar-side perch to wander around this big new city and finally decide that ice cream is on the cards. Neither of us has had dinner, but an extra-large dreamy creamy gelato will do the trick. Mathew has other plans, however, and opts for dinner at a hole-in-the-wall pizzeria serving their pies by the slice before we stroll around and stumble inside Nannarella for (wait for it) the best ice cream of our trip so far. Move over, Italy; Portugal is coming for your gelato awards. 

Tired and ready to fall into bed, we begin our walk home (we got slightly overexcited this evening and are now halfway across the city). The location we’re staying in is wonderful, and the best part of it is not the filth, smell or 5000 books littering the house (shocker) but that it is almost directly outside one of the stops, not he iconic Tram 28 route. I hadn’t intended to book accommodation in an area this good. Still, I’ve got to say it’s one of the greatest strokes of brilliance I’ve ever had (I’m nothing if not my father’s daughter). 

Okay, gloating over, back to the story. Being on the Tram 28 route means that we don’t have to hike 15 minutes back up a vertical hill (praise Jesus), so instead, we hop onboard our bright yellow carriage and trundle back home, where we fall into bed, ready for another big day tomorrow. 

Sunday 9th July

Our first full day in Lisbon has started like all good days, with an extra-strong coffee and a weekend market in the middle of town. The weather is scorching here, and compared to breezy Porto, it feels as though we have landed on the face of the sun. 

My favourite part of arriving in a new city is getting lost on the first day. That’s another thing I love about slow travel; there’s no expectation to jam-pack your days with activities or compare your schedule to someone else. 

A lot (and I mean, seriously, a lot) of people I know back home are currently travelling around Europe. It must be the combination of winter blues and the fact that New Zealand has been covered in rain for the last eight months. But almost every 20-something-year-old Kiwi I know is somewhere in Western Europe (Europe, of course, meaning Greece, Italy, the South of France and Spain). 

Mathew and I were talking recently and said it could be easy for us to compare what we’re doing to what other people are doing (or, instead, seem to be doing). But it just doesn’t feel like that at all. (and quite frankly, our budget doesn’t stretch to sailing in Greece or cooking classes in Italy, hahaha). We always said we would treat our first two months like a holiday and splash the cash on nice accommodation (although Lisbon hasn’t fit the bill). Then, after our first two months, all bets were off, and we would start ‘really’ backpacking. By this time, I had hoped we’d have found our feet, I would have a head for navigating, and Mathew would have settled into life abroad. 

It’s been the most wonderful decision EVER, and I really recommend it if you’re thinking of travelling for a while and have the means to do so. The last two months have been this enormous whirlwind of adventure. Treating it like a holiday meant we could ease ourselves into this new lifestyle, take it slowly and soak all the ‘newness’ up without fear of needing to fit in as much as possible. 

I’m finding it challenging to write and convey how I’m feeling as the first leg of our European whirlwind comes to an end. It feels as though we have turned a corner and realised that we’re travelling long-term and not coming home. Not yet, at least. 

It feels like we are in the midst of a big transition period. We’re making routines each day and have spent WEEKS (seriously, so much time) talking to one another and digging a little deeper than surface-level connection to find out what makes the other tick. And also how we can support each other as homesickness creeps up, and we transition from ‘holiday’ to ‘full-time travel’. Like I said yesterday, connecting on this level has been one of my favourite surprises.

So, we spent our first day in Lisbon, easing ourselves into the second leg of our Portugal adventure. Before we arrived, we were tossing between getting the Lisbon pass and seeing the city ourselves. The Lisbon Pass looks fab, but I’m not a huge fan of foreign museums, art galleries and exhibitions (don’t tell my family – eek). If that tickles your fancy, it would be well worth the money, but for us, it was easier to buy transport passes and spend our day getting lost down the city’s quaint side streets, meandering about with our packed lunch and seeing some of the iconic city landmarks, like the San Justa Lift (entry to which, if you’re travelling to Lisbon, is included in your 24-hour public transport pass – score). 

If you know Mathew, you know that he was born for a climate like Krakow. Sunny, dry and cold. His body temporarily shuts down once the weather reaches a ripe 28 degrees Celsius. So that afternoon, we head home early to spend the rest of our day relaxing and lying in front of the air conditioning unit.

See you tomorrow!

Monday 10th July

It’s Monday morning; you already know that can only mean one thing. We’re staying the day with a call to my family back home. This is hands down one of my favourite parts of the week, and this morning topped all other mornings with a surprise appearance from a very special guest – my favourite girl in the whole world. People warn you about being homesick for your family, but no one tells you how bloody tough it is leaving your elderly pets back home. 

Then it was time to hit the road for another day of exploring. We’ve already ticked off most of the major sights around where we’re staying in Lisbon, so we decided to take the metro to visit the other side of the city and a town called Belém.

Belém is famous for Pastéis de Belém, a bakery selling a variety of Portuguese sweet treats, including the world-famous Pastel de Nata. Pastéis de Belém reckons they make the best Pastel de Nata in the world (we’ll be the judge of that, thank you very much). Fun fact: only five people worldwide have the recipe for their edition of the Portuguese sweet treat, and none are allowed to travel together. Their shop’s history is lovely, and I highly recommend a trip, even if custard tarts aren’t your thing.

The line to get into Pastéis de Belém was long but well worth it. Before we knew it, we were sinking our teeth around flakey sweet treats, so sugary they almost dissolved in our mouths. The atmosphere of this bakery is to die for (another note on my ever-growing list of places I want to bring my Mum).

Clearly, it has star power because not half an hour into our visit, I just about choked on my egg tart and fell off my chair as Emmy Raver-Lampman (Allison Harvgreeves from Umbrella Academy, IFYKYK) and her husband walked through the front door. Now I want to binge-watch the series again.

After my near-death experience combining egg tart pastry and star-struck shock, we left Pastéis de Belém and walked down the river to visit the Belem Tower.

It’s beautiful but quite literally just a tower, so we set up shop in the adjacent park under a shady tree to have lunch before jumping back on the train and heading to the nearby town of Carcavelos. 

If you thought you could keep me away from the beach for more than a week, you were wrong. Carcavelos Beach is about an hour away on public transport from downtown Lisbon and a bit like Omaha Beach meets Miami. It’s cool, upmarket and full of bars, cafes and surf schools.

The clock strikes 6 pm, and as we had plans to stay in Carcavelos for dinner, we made full use of the free freezing-cold beach showers (you’ve got to do, what you’ve got to do) before settling into the nearest beach club for some pre-dinner drinks. Mathew and I couldn’t believe how cheap there were for the location (Auckland seriously needs to get on this 7€‎ cocktail gig), plus they are our best since we were in Lake Como.

Reading my previous entries, you’ll know we’ve been eating tomato pasta daily for five weeks to save our budget. It’s delicious and cheap, meaning we can splash the cash on cocktails and ice cream. But tonight, my Auntie Maz (hi Maz !!!) very kindly put me in touch with her brother Nick who just so happens to live in Carcavelos. We’ve been so fortunate to have family and friends reach out and put us in touch with people in the places we’ve travelled. That’s one of the nicest and most wholesome things about travelling; human connection and the fact that your loved ones want to help you and be involved in your trip is remarkable. 

By some stroke of magic, Nick happens to own a restaurant and has VERY generously invited us for dinner this evening.

We arrive at Wasabi Papi that evening, tummies rumbling. Quite frankly, the only word I can use to describe Nick is, well, cool. He brought two friends with him, which I thought would be a bit random at first, but turned out to be the life and soul of the party. I felt like I was out for dinner with long-lost family friends or people who just wanted to take care of you and make sure you were okay. How nice is that? 

Our food arrived, and it was INSANE. I declare that Japanese fusion is my new favourite cuisine, and this was the best sushi I’ve had since leaving NZ: hands down, no competition, end of story. If you’re in Lisbon, Portugal or even Europe, 100000000% go here. Please. Thank me later. You won’t regret it. 

Everything about our evening was 11/10, top-notch and Mathew and I said that it’s been one of our favourite Europe trip experiences so far. We ended our evening by catching the sunset (!!!) on our way home before jumping on a late-night tram ride, both feeling ridiculously full and very content. Night night x

Tuesday 11th July

It’s our second to last day in Lisbon, so we’re off to the beach. We were going to return to Carcavelos after seeing it yesterday (it is so beautiful), but Nick and his friends said that Cascais was a much better day trip. Not one to go against the word of the locals, we packed up our beach things and headed to the train station. 

Caicas isn’t the easiest place to get to, and she’s a busy, hectic ride, but it is bloody worth it. We took the tram, metro and then a train from our house before we arrived beachside an hour and a half later.

Cascais is the most ‘expensive’ beach town we’ve been to on our Europe trip so far (even more so than Nice), so we set up our umbrella on the free section of the beach and spent four hours baking in the sun like lizards. 

This is my idea of heaven. 

After topping up our tan, we head into town for an explore, and when I tell you it looks like we were transported into Greece, I’m not lying. I felt I was well and truly living out my Mamma Mia summer dream. 

We slipped and fell into the most gorgeous bookshop I have ever seen in. My. life. Where we met the first Kiwi bloke of our trip. In a bookshop. In Cascais, of all places. Living in New Zealand, I never understood the world’s obsession with the Kiwi accent. Yeah, it’s nice, I guess. But it’s just a voice. However, consider me a convert because whenever we hear something REMOTELY Kiwi, our ears prick up, and it feels like we’re home. Ahh. 

Post-beach, we boarded the return train to downtown Lisbon and ended our day with a quiet night in (and pasta for the 1873947 night in a row).

See you next week! <33