taylors then duoro valley

have i mentioned the best thing about porto was the port? cursed with a sweet tooth and am already unable to resist the sweet hit of port on the best of days. throw me into porto and it's hellooooo cellars and cellars of syrupy goodness! yes, there's something to be said about moderation and being responsible (look ma, no water...) but all the rules go out of the window on holiday. so if day 0 was landing in the afternoon and hitting the ground running, day 1 was when we upped the ante. probably overstating the lack of sleep (literally 90min between getting back to the hotel from the club and the early morning talks) but when already running on empty, i felt like really needed the sugar rush to keep going. was also more than a little bummed that i only got 90min in the divine bed. starting to regret late (early?) night already. hopped across the street to taylors for lunch and ohmy what a view! and what a meal! commenting to F, one of the other +1s, that after a table setting with six glasses  each (champers, red, white and three ports in increasing age), we couldn't go back to regular feasting. any thing else would just pale in comparison!

as an aside, it was also cool to visit taylor's in person because it's the brand i'm most familiar with. in fact, i think i've paid kind friends in kind with taylor's port after stowing my mountain of barang barang at theirs over summer in between houses.

lunch was followed by a scenic ride to the duoro valley to visit the croft vineyards. L had chartered a bus and the crazy bunch managed to turn it into the party bus supreme. needless to say, the 4.5L bottle that magically reappeared was responsible for some of it. however, knowing when to bow out is as important as knowing when to boogey all night. so it was eye mask and noise cancelling earphones on (listening to radio3 no less!), to catch up on some zz. defensive sleeping, as i call it, not knowing what sort of night lay ahead. did wake after two hours and caught the most picturesque part of the journey and my inner nerd was excited by the multiple bridges across the duoro. may or may not have been trigger happy and then spammed my fellow bridge enthusiasts i.e. family whatsapp group with bridge pics.

L had scoped the cutest little vintage house hotel and we all had rooms with balconies overlooking the duoro, and up and down each others' rooms hehe. there was some commotion at night with the main hotel and some cheeky folk not being in the beds they were assigned to. but hey, all par for the course? throw 30 something 30somethings together and things are bound to get jiggy. as the youngest by a good couple of years (the mister being the second youngest heh) i felt a little like an old married prude listening in rapt attention to the morning after tales. such is life and vicarious living!

oh and that's the balcony i sought solace from when it all got too much and they started throwing each other / jumping into the duoro. something about dead fish and pants-ing trickled through the grapevine (haha) but i emerged when things were civil again for pre-dinner drinks before hitting up the town.

this was also the night things escalated and my first aid skills came in handy. without going into too much detail, save for the self-indulgence of reflection, a hand was put through a glass table. the former US army captain, PE fund general counsel and veterinary surgeon turned oil trader were on it, much to my relief and being older, more commanding presences they got things under control quite quickly. but i was able to triage and reassure the rest that the casualty was going to be fine. also nice to know that i think straight and remain calm when faced with lots of blood. a little duh at this point but having come to the medicine game later in the day, there's always been this remnant of self-doubt that doesn't quite seem to go away.