Ceske Budejovice, Czech Republic (Part 1)

The night I spent in Bratislava was fun. The food was great, and the drinks were dirt cheap. The next morning, however, didn’t feel so good. My head was about to explode. It felt like my stomach was inside out, and my liver about to jump out of my mouth. I needed to stay in bed all day, but that wasn’t an option. I had to go to Ceske Budejovice that Sunday for my first EGG (Eastern Generative Grammar) Summer School, which started the following day. I bought a large bottle of water, made my way to the train station and boarded the EC towards Brno, Czech Republic.

The trip took about an hour and a half. There were no empty seats, so I had to stand the whole way there (not fun, especially if you’re hungover). My stomach was growling when I got to Brno. I wasn’t sure if I was hungry or sick, but I knew for sure I didn’t want to see or smell any kind of alcohol. I wanted something like the Caldo Gallego I had in Santiago, or the soup-like concoction my dad makes called “Levanta Defunto” (rise from the dead). I know every country has its own hangover antidotes, and in Czech Republic, I learned that it was called Gulášová polievka.

Gulášová polievka is goulash soup, of Hungarian origin but a Czech/Slovak favorite. It is a very hearty soup with beef, onions, potatoes and different kinds of herbs and spices. This is a must if you’re in the area (hungover or not). I really enjoyed it. I also enjoyed the fact that the bowl of soup at the train station cost me less than one dollar. I was in Czech Republic, where euros still haven’t been implemented. The Czech Koruna (CZK) is the local currency there, and the exchange rate makes American dollars worth a lot.

From Brno, I caught a bus to Middle of Nowhere, which is the name I gave to the location where I transferred to the Regional train to Budejovice. I can’t remember the exact Czech name of the town, but I know it had three words, with possibly more than forty consonants and at least twenty diacritics. No one at that train stop spoke English. If you can still feel the gloominess and sadness left by so many years of Communism in Bratislava, I can tell you that, in country town Czech Republic, that feeling is ten times more intense. It’s like stepping back into 1980s Czechoslovakia.

I finally arrived in Ceske Budejovice at 8pm that Sunday. I took the bus to the University of South Bohemia - Jihočeská univerzita, where the EGG was taking place that year. I found a seat close to the front and tried not to fall asleep. A few minutes later, I heard a voice that sounded familiar, saying what sounded like my name. Was I dreaming? I looked back and saw Carolina, fellow linguist from Lisbon whom I had the pleasure of meeting during my first week there. We had talked about the EGG then, but arriving there exactly at the same time was a huge coincidence. She was with a large group of linguists that had come on the train from Prague, and right after we got off the bus, I was introduced to each of them.

Like the Braga post, this one will not talk much about the summer school itself, but the good time I had and the awesome people I met in Ceske Budejovice.  Carolina introduced me to a goofy looking Italian guy who half an hour later became my roommate. Fabrizio and I were a two-man team during those two weeks. I also met Alex, who had driven there from his native France with an American named Christen. Veronique had come from Brussels; Nataša and Jovana were Serbians studying in France. Another member of that group was Amui, whom I worked with at FIU. That was our “gang”, which got much larger as new members were being added day after day. We checked in at the dorms, dropped off our bags and headed over to the “City Center” for dinner.

On a Sunday night, that seemed like an impossible mission. Most restaurants we saw on the way were closed. We ended up at Jack Bar Restaurant (Panská 183 370 01 Czech Budejovice) for typical Czech cuisine at affordable prices. This became our favorite restaurant in town. It was a bit distant from the dorms, but it was relatively cheap and had great food and drinks. The goulash soup I had in the afternoon had certainly cured my hangover, so I was all ready for a cold Černy Pivo (dark beer). No regrets there. My liver clapped and screamed words of joy after every sip I took. I was going to be in Czech Republic, where beer is a religion, for two whole weeks! This was just the beginning of a somehow unexpectedly amazing journey, which will be depicted here in the next posts.

Bratislava, Slovakia

The chilly ferry ride from Vienna to Bratislava took a little over an hour. The Twin-City Liner takes you on a fast trip down the Danube River from Schwedenplatz to Old Town Bratislava for €30. There is a bus that costs only €9, but I felt like a little contact with nature would be necessary at some point. There’s a bar on the ferry, where you can order cold cans of Budweiser for two euros. Not the Budweiser we get in the US, but the one brewed in Ceske Budejovice (aka Budweis), the original one. I grabbed a can and headed to the deck, but the cold wind and the effects I felt from the drunken walk in Vienna made me go back inside in less than fifteen minutes. Contact with nature: check! Time for a nap! When I woke up, I was in Slovakia.

I have to admit that my first impression of Bratislava made me think of the famous quote from Eurotrip: “It's good you came in summer, in winter it can get very depressing.” Once we all got off the boat, it almost seemed as if people started disappearing. I found myself alone on a Saturday afternoon in Old Town Bratislava. It was also cloudy and chilly, which contributed to the melancholic feel. The walk to Hostel Blues took about twenty minutes, and all I saw on the way there were a few parked cars, but no drivers anywhere near them. I was in a ghost town.

The hostel was all right. The front desk where you check in happens to be a bar as well (great!), and the receptionist/bartender gives you a coupon for a free drink along with the key to your room. I dropped off my stuff, took a quick shower and came back down for some mild socializing with the other guests. My free drink was a half-liter bottle of Staropramen, traditional Prague beer. I approached a group and quickly engaged in conversation about what to do that night. No one had any idea; they all agreed that it was a little scary out there since it looked like all the locals were in hiding. While some of them chose to just chill at the hostel, I was somehow feeling adventurous. I grabbed a map from the bar/reception and successfully convinced two of them to come with me, an American guy about my age and a Chinese woman in her mid-20s. First stop: Slovak Pub.  


Slovak Pub (Obchodná 613/62  81106 Bratislava - Staré Mesto-Old Town) joined the Tasquinha as one of my top five restaurants. This place was huge. We walked in and saw what looked like a tiny dive bar on the right, with a few tables on the left and stairs leading to the 2^nd floor. We walked up the stairs and saw that the restaurant didn’t have an end. It looked like a maze filled with tables and waiters running around. The mystery had been solved: the streets were empty because everyone was at the Slovak Pub. We chose one of the 75,000 tables, and the waitress came shortly after.

There was something particularly interesting about this restaurant. They have a menu for students, which consisted of soups, snacks and some beverages at a very low cost. In addition, (no joke), if you get an “A” on your exam, you can show them your grade and get free soup and Kofola (Czechoslovakian version of Coke). I thought that was a nice incentive. Our waitress didn’t speak any English, but the menu had English and German descriptions of the main dishes. We attempted to ask for suggestions, and after consulting another waiter and the busboy, she recommended bryndzové halušky and bacova kapsa. The first one was a very rich dish with potato dumplings and lots, loooooots of traditional Slovak cheese. The second dish was unbelievably delicious. Also called Shepherd’s Bag, bacova kapsa is, simply, put, a spicy pork mixture in a potato pancake. A more detailed description of that mixture would be charcoal-grilled pork with peas, chilies, a thick gravy and ketchup, served with vegetables. We shared that and had some tea, while debating whether or not to join the Bratislava Pub Crawl. This one was 15 euros, but looking at how ridiculously cheap everything was, we decided to follow the pub crawl and just pay for our consumption.

After dinner, we walked to the first stop of the Pub Crawl, where we mingled with some French and Spanish travelers. I don’t remember what it was called, in fact I don’t remember a lot of things from that night, but this was an underground pub that served shots of real Slovak absinth for one euro. Keep ‘em coming (bad idea)! One of the French guys lit the shot glasses on fire, so we could drink them “the right way”. A few shots later, we thought we’d check out another place, so our group, which was then nine people, stumbled outside and started walking aimlessly, because apparently that’s what you do in ghost town Bratislava at midnight. The goal was to walk until we found a cool hangout spot, and Tatyana’s eyes convinced us to stop at the Sunshine Bar (Obchodná 37, Bratislava).

Tatyana ‘s job was to stand outside with a tray filled with free shots of some kind of liqueur and talk people into coming in for the “party”. She looked incredibly bored, so I stood there and chatted with her for a few minutes until I started seeing some smiles. Her boss, a 6’5’’ 300lb man, came outside and screamed at her for not doing “her job”. He also gave me that “I’m going to eviscerate you” kind of stare. I could see why she hated her job so much. That dick of a boss was also the bartender, so I met him again a few minutes later. One shot of absinth and a beer: three euros. Give him a five, and it’ll be five euros. Ask him for your change, and he’ll turn purple and annihilate you.

We were just sitting at a table outside when a creepy guy approached us and offered us drugs. He introduced himself and invited us to a party in the outskirts of Bratislava. We didn’t get a good first impression of him, so we politely said “No thanks”. One thing is to approach a local and engage in conversation to then be invited to a party. Another is when a local comes up to a group of tourists and says: “yo, I got some cocaine, let’s go to this crazy party about forty minutes from here”, which we understood as: “yo, I’m going to rob you and most likely kill you and dump your body somewhere about forty minutes from here”. 
 

Everything after that were just hazy memories. At some point there was a bar fight. Some kid took his pants off on the street.  I remember we ate some fruit, might have been a vegetable. All I know is that I woke up at 10am the next day with the housekeeper screaming at me in Slovak, no idea how I got there. I would have believed that it all had been a dream, if my head wasn’t pounding, and I didn’t feel like the devil had punched me in the stomach. Everyone had already checked out, and I was the last one there. In addition, my train to Ceske Budejovice was departing in less than two hours, so I really had to go. I wasn’t in the best shape for the 8-hour train ride that awaited me. I dragged myself to the train station trying not to pass out. 

Vienna, Austria

 

I arrived in Vienna around 8pm that Friday. I really wasn’t planning on exploring the nightlife since I was so exhausted from partying the night before in Braga, and sightseeing in Zurich, only taking random naps throughout the day. I just wanted to go to bed. However, this was my only night there; I was getting on the Twin-City Liner cruise to Bratislava on Saturday afternoon. To party or not to party?

I took the S-Bahn train from Wien-Swechat Airport to Wien Mitte station, where I hopped on the U3 to Westbahnhof. Wombats Hostel – The Lounge – was located a block from Wbf station. The ride cost €3.50, and I was there in about half an hour. There were lots of young people at the hostel, in fact much younger than the guests in Lisbon. These kids were like, eighteen, maybe nineteen. I felt old for a second, which influenced my decision of just going to bed early like an old man. So I went upstairs, took a hot shower and went to a Turkish restaurant down the street to grab something to eat. Pizza, in a Turkish restaurant, in Austria? You’d be surprised. I found more Turkish restaurants than typical Viennese places in this city. Dirt cheap pizza, it didn’t taste that great but it filled me up. It was bedtime for me, or so I thought.

Back at The Lounge, I ran into a group of Turkish girls in their mid-20s. That’s when I first learned that Turkish people do enjoy partying (which was later confirmed in Ceske Budejovice). Suddenly, the old man didn’t feel so old anymore, and the fact that the hostel had a full-liquor underground bar definitely helped me make that tough decision: to party! – for a little bit. The girls and I headed down to the bar and started out with a few rounds of cold Stiegl’s on tap. They told me Vienna receives a lot of Turkish tourists (and immigrants), which explains why you can find a real kebab on every block. Fair enough. As much as I enjoyed their company, and as refreshing as those Stiegl’s were, my body was screaming “Please stop!” I politely said goodbye to them and excused myself. It was at least 24 hours past bedtime.

 

I felt great the next morning. I actually slept for eight hours for the first time in two weeks. The free breakfast buffet offered by The Lounge couldn’t have been better; fresh fruit, croissants, eggs, muffins and different varieties of warm bread, accompanied by liver spread, jam and butter. It was gorging time! After recharging, I grabbed a map from the receptionist and checked out. Some hostels store your luggage for free, and luckily this one did. The Twin-City Liner cruise was leaving for Bratislava at 4pm, so I circled on the map a few attractions and headed out. Everything I wanted to see was somewhat walking distance from the hostel. First stop: the Ottakringer Brewery.

The closest I had come to visiting a brewery was in Milwaukee, but I wasn’t able to join the tour because I was five minutes late. I was curious to see how beer was made in Austria, and possibly try some fresh local brew. I walked for about forty minutes, cutting through at an outdoor market (apparently they’re pretty common in Vienna). To my surprise, the brewery was closed on Saturdays. To this day, I still haven’t taken a brewery tour. At least their gift shop was open, so I decided to check that out. They sold souvenirs and ice cold bottled beer. I generally don’t buy souvenirs, and even if I wanted to buy anything, there were no employees around. As I was about to leave, I heard a voice coming from the back, so I stopped, turned around and saw a beautiful woman walking towards me speaking German.

Since the brewery was closed, I assumed the reason why she was in the back was that her shifts don't get very busy, which she later confirmed. I looked at her and said, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand German”, and received the most unexpected reply: “I am actually glad to hear that. I don’t get to practice my English very often here. My name is Olga.”, she said, giving me the firmest handshake I’d ever received from a girl that pretty. I didn’t want to buy any souvenirs, but I thought, “well, 97 cents for a 20oz Austrian beer, why not?” And Olga wanted to practice her English. I bought the first Dunkles, and joined her at a table out back, where she already had a beer herself (what a sweet job). We chatted for about two hours, and she bought me a few more Dunkels. One beer turned into eight between the two of us. She told me about the Viennese culture and nightlife and invited me out to a local pub that night. Since I was leaving in a few hours, I had to respectfully decline her invitation. Tight schedules can ruin some of the fun, but I had an enjoyable time at the brewery; certainly not what I had in mind, but definitely interesting.

 

I only had three hours before departure, so I stumbled to the tram stop and headed to Old Town to check out the architecture, and hopefully find a decent schnitzel somewhere. I made sure to visit Saint Stephen’s Cathedral and Hofburg Palace. Vienna Rathaus is also magnificent. Old Town Vienna was overall very charming, and all the historical buildings somehow brought me memories of “Amadeus”, one of my favorite movies of all time. It felt great being there, and I really hope to go back soon.

I left Old Town and started walking towards The Lounge, hoping to find a good local restaurant on the way. Pulkautaler Weinhaus (Felberstraße 2, 1150 Wien, Austria) was just the right place. My wienerschitzel and a beer (another one?) cost me about €14, which seems to be average for “not-so-economically-hurt” Europe. I was truly delighted with my meal. One hour left, time to run.

I literally ran to The Lounge to grab my backpack. From Westbahnhof, I hopped on the U2 towards Schwedenplatz. My general impression of Vienna was that it is indeed a beautiful city with lots of welcoming and friendly people. Next time I’m there, I will make sure to explore the local scene as suggested by Olga. I got to Schwedenplatz there just in time for boarding the Twin-City Liner cruise down the Danube River to Bratislava, my next stop.

Zurich, Switzerland

The TAP airlines flight from Porto to Zurich took only two hours, and I barely remember anything. As you know from the previous post, I’d barely slept the night before, so any chance I had to take a nap, I did, including the thirty minutes I had before boarding that plane. No one will judge you for napping on the floor at an airport. And if they do, you won’t know, since you’ll be asleep, so it really doesn’t matter, does it? Just remember to set your alarm so you don’t miss your flight.

  

This visit to Zurich consisted of a five-hour layover on my way to Vienna. I find long layovers to be a great way of exploring some of the city. Main advantages: you don’t have to pay to stay anywhere, and you’ll have much more fun than being stuck at the airport. So if you have a layover of five hours or more, get out there! Visit a few attractions, take some pictures and have a drink or four before heading back to the airport, all while keeping an eye on your watch. From Kloten Airport, you can take the S-train to Zurich HB (Hauptbahnhof), the city’s main train station. The round-trip ticket costs 12 CHF (a little over 12 dollars) which is a lot of money for a 15-minute train ride. It is nevertheless the cheapest option. I wasn’t in Portugal anymore, so I knew I had to dig a little deeper into my pockets. The economy in Switzerland is one of the strongest in Europe. Everything in this country is super expensive, including the $10 espresso that I refused to buy despite how exhausted I was.  

The first impression that I got from the Swiss was that they don’t seem as friendly as the Portuguese, for example. They’re very focused on what they’re doing, and they don’t smile too much. Since I only had five hours, I wasn’t going to have enough time to make friends. I had to move fast. I went directly to the Information counter at Zurich HB, and asked the agent, in clear English: “Hi, I only have three hours to explore before I have to be back at the airport. Where should I go?” You can choose to do some research online instead. I think asking a local, especially someone who works with tourism, can yield more effective results. The woman said that Old Town wasn’t very far from there, and there were some government buildings on the way. She also mentioned Lake Zurich. Still no smiles.

I should have brought the nice weather from Portugal. The lingering rain made my visit slightly less pleasant. I grabbed the free map that the agent gave me and exited the station. The plan was to see whatever I could on the way to Old Town, then eat something (hopefully cheap) and walk to Lake Zurich. Three hours was plenty of time for that. 

The first part of the plan wasn’t that exciting. I didn’t really know where I was going, I guess reading the map upside down may have played a role there. Walking in the wrong direction isn’t so bad if it’s before midnight and you notice that you’re lost within the first ten minutes. Lesson learned, I’m never getting lost in Europe again (wrong!). For someone who travels as much as I do, I should have better sense of directions. As I walked back, this time in the right direction, I saw a few nice buildings, showing an architectural style nothing like what I had seen in Portugal. I couldn’t tell you exactly what they were, but they were nice.

I was impressed with the amount of Italian restaurants I found in Old Town Zurich. They are also cheaper than the restaurants with German names. I ended up at the Spaghetti Factory (Schifflände 6, 8001 Zürich, Switzerland), where a cold Fridolin Kunderd Dunkel welcomed me, holding hands with a small serving of fettuccine with pesto. Total cost? 18 CHF (over $20).  I missed Tasquinha Bracarense. The Swiss do have very good beer, so I give them credit for that.

Lake Zurich was right down the street from the Spaghetti Factory. It is a massive lake, and supposedly one of the cleanest in the world. I overheard a couple speaking what sounded like Standard American English, looking around for someone to take a picture of them.  I did my good deed for the day, and we talked for a bit on the way to the tram stop. They had been in Zurich for three days, and were sad to admit that there really wasn’t much to do or see there. It is a pretty city, but it’s not much of a must-go tourist destination. I have to go back to Zurich for that very reason, hopefully with enough time to meet some locals and explore what that couple wasn’t able to. It was time to head back to Kloten Airport, where I took a 30-minute nap (right by the gate) before boarding my plane to Vienna, Austria.

Braga, Portugal (Part 2)

  

Angela, Francisco and Walter had given me the opportunity to try authentic Portuguese meals at an incredibly low price. The Tasquinha was more than just great food, though. They also served fresh fruit sangrias, which kept coming to our table once we were joined by a few other friends. Sofia was the most energetic person I had seen in a while. Her presence just brought us back to life since we’d eaten so much that we died and sat in Food Heaven with the angels for a few minutes. She was very happy, and that was contagious. We were all ecstatic after a few minutes and more than a few glasses of sangria. The party was just about to get started. Hernán and his girlfriend Guadalupe brought the Argentine count to three, and since I was the only Brazilian in the group, it was only fair to admit than Maradona was better than Pelé (that night anyway). Hernán still owes me a visit in Vice City, where I own a Corvette, a yacht and a mansion. At least that’s what we pretended the Miami lifestyle was like. The seven of us played ‘porrinha’ (typical Brazilian bar game which you have to play at least once before you die) and had more sangria some shots of Jeropiga, traditional Portuguese liquor that resembles a much stronger and sweeter wine. That night, we closed Tasquinha Bracarense. Where to?

My friends know I’m a big fan of live music. Sitting at a bar having a beer with friends is fun, but a good singer and a guitar complete the equation. It doesn’t get any better than that. Or does it? It did. We grabbed a guitar back at their place and headed over to Bar Usual, which was fairly empty for how late it was. We took a table all the way in the back, ordered some beers, and next thing you know, we were the live music! I am humble enough to admit that I’m a horrible singer. Great listener, but horrible singer. That night, it didn’t matter. We were all having fun. Sofia and Hernán, oh, those two are great, however. Her voice is so beautiful that those angels came down to have a beer with us. The place slowly filled up. We all sang in English, Spanish, Portuguese and German. Maybe broken French. At that moment, happiness was our lingua franca, and all of us were pretty fluent in it.

The next evening, after school, Angela and I took a stroll out to the City Center, along with some other linguists (and psychologists).  We walked around for a good hour or so, trying to find a non-existent bar by the name of ‘Tapas Bar’, where everyone was meeting up. Believe it or not, finding a place that does not exist is not the easiest of tasks. At least we saw the Sé de Braga (Braga Cathedral) on the road to nowhere. We then, almost by chance, found our meeting point, only to find out it was actually called Estúdio 22. Oh, and yes, they do serve tapas! If the food didn’t take a whole glacial period to arrive at our table, I might even recommend this joint. The drinks are a little pricey, but the tapas are indeed tasty. Unfortunately, they’re not worth waiting over an hour for them.

Thursday was my last night in Braga, and I knew it had to be amazing. After school, we attempted to grab dinner at the Tasquinha again, but it wasn’t open for dinner yet. The angels might have been sleeping, still recovering from the party at Bar Usual. We were then in a group of four; with me were Angela, her compatriot Jonas, and João, a young professor at University of Lisbon who had come up to give a talk at the summer school. We met up with Walter and the other girls and crossed the city center looking for good but cheap eats. There was a good joint right outside the city center, so we ate there and had some great wine. Nothing like the Tasquinha, though. After that, a quick stop at Café A Brasileira (Largo do Barão São Martinho 17  4700 Braga, Portugal) for more fun and drinks. This was already a very traditional restaurant in Lisbon before the Braga location opened over a century ago. Ironically, it’s not a Brazilian restaurant, and even more ironically, I didn’t care.

Our last stop was Insólito Bar (Avenida Central 47, 4710 Braga, Portugal). This place was narrow, but long. Right past the entrance, there was a bar (the only one open that night). You’ll find a small dance floor as you continue your journey towards the back. After the dance floor, you’ll find yourself in a very long backyard, with some tables and benches. The bathrooms are located all the way in the back, and there’s a very convenient couch located right outside. I heard from the bartender that the Insólito was a bar that helped promote local bands, so they usually have concerts on Saturdays. We enjoyed the cheap beer and made good use of the dance floor until the break of dawn. Awesome night! The only sad part? I had to be at the airport in three hours, and from where I was, and considering how intoxicated I may or may not have been, it wasn’t that simple.

I took a cab back to the hostel to grab my backpack and headed over to the Braga train station, to catch the Urbanos towards Porto. My flight to Zurich departed from Sá Carneiro airport at 10am, so unfortunately, I didn’t have time for a “galão”. I hopped on the train and off I went. The next post will show a bit of my short visit to Zurich, Switzerland.

Braga, Portugal (Part 1)

 

 

Braga is a town located in northern Portugal, about 45 minutes from Porto. My visit to this city was nothing like I had originally expected. I was there for four days to “go to school”, so I thought it was going to be lame and boring; classes every day, no one knows anyone, not enough time to make friends. I was wrong, very wrong, and again I’m happy to admit that.

I took the Urbanos train from Campanhá in Porto and arrived in Braga in exactly 1h15min. There’s another train that costs 13 euros and gets you there 15 minutes faster. The Urbanos only cost a little over 2 euros, and it also meant my nap would be fifteen minutes longer, so I didn’t think twice. One thing about traveling is that you can be exhausted at random times, generally a result of drinking the night before and always having to go somewhere. Napping on trains and planes is highly recommended, so you have more energy when you get to your destination. Just make sure you have your legs around your backpack so that you wake up in case someone tries to rob you. Yes, that happens.

Centro João Wesley (Tv Dr. Francisco Machado Owen, 45, 4715-022 Braga, Portugal) was the hostel I chose in Braga. It was very cheap (10 euros a night) and I had my own room with a bathroom. You can also get your laundry done there for only €1.50. They also have a living room with cable TV and games. I got there right in time for some ‘feijoada’ made from scratch by João, a fellow Brazilian guest. Feijoada can be classified as a pork and bean stew, generally served with white rice, collard greens and oranges.  This is the national dish of Brazil, although some claim it originated in Portugal. Regardless of where it came from, this one was perfect. The smell that came from the kitchen once I walked in brought me back memories of delicious home cooked meals. It made me smile, and that smile meant, “I need to stuff my face!” And that I did.

The summer school took place at Universidade do Minho, which was a good 30-minute walk from the hostel. It was much more interesting than I expected. I will not talk too much about that because I’m aware that you don’t care. Let’s just say that besides presenting a poster and learning a lot, I had the pleasure of meeting some people who made those four days unforgettable, like Sara, Renata and Angela. To my surprise, Angela also spoke Portuguese and Spanish, besides English and her native German. She is a very down-to-earth girl, who loves traveling and exploring different places, so we connected right away. She was couch surfing with Erasmus students Francisco and Walter, from Chile and Argentina, respectively. They had been living in Braga for a few months, so they already knew things that weren’t in the guidebooks. Needless to say, hanging out with the three of them was an immensurable pleasure.

  

 

The weather in Braga in the summer can be quite confusing. If you need a jacket today, chances are that tomorrow you’ll be drenched in sweat. Our plan for that hot afternoon consisted of visiting the Bom Jesus do Monte Sanctuary (and consequently, being drenched in sweat). This place is also a pilgrimage site. It’s located on a hilltop, and it takes about an hour to get there walking from Universidade do Minho, a little longer if you go up the stairs. We paid one euro to ride the funicular, so we could get up there faster (not because we were tired of walking). Walking is the best way to stay in shape when you’re traveling, since you most likely will be gorging yourself and drinking much more often than you do at home. Once we reached the top, we visited the Bom Jesus Church and enjoyed the view from up there. There’s also a park up there, called Parque do Bom Jesus, with ice cream stands, grottos and artificial lakes with boats for rent. There’s also a tiny little kiosk with tables outside in case you’re dying for an ice cold beer after reaching the hilltop. Well earned prize! Saying that we chose beer over ice cream is probably unnecessary at this point.

That was a moment of reflection. The four of us were enjoying our Super Bocks discussing language and lifestyles (and bugs and butterflies, I believe). A few beers later, the conversation was getting more and more philosophical as it should. I already loved Portugal, and that moment made me love it even more. But it gets MUCH better than that. We chose to take the stairs down to help sober up. I know that doesn’t sound like the smartest idea, but luckily no one got injured. I learned that each set of stairs has a specific meaning. There are religious statues and candles along the way. No bathrooms, though, so that, and the fact that we were starving, made us almost teleport to Tasquinha Bracarense (Rua Nova Santa Cruz, nº 34 - loja 3 Gualtar Braga), which would soon become my favorite restaurant in the whole world. 

Located right next to the university, Tasquinha Bracarense is perfect for students, hence the young crowd. What can five euros get you in Europe? If you answered a glass of wine or soft beverage, bread, a bowl of soup, the entrée of your choice, dessert and coffee, you are most likely wrong, unless you’re talking about this restaurant. You get all of the above, in that specific order, and the food is so good that you don’t want it to end. Ever. I ordered the “Alheira”, Portuguese style sausage made with different meats other than pork and served with a fried egg on top. The dish came with French fries, rice and a salad, and every time I took a bite of it, two angels high-fived each other in Food Heaven. I went back two other times for lunch, and will go back there several times when in Braga again. That’s money very well spent right there. More about that lovely evening and the amazing time I had in Braga in the next post.