Porto, PT - When I Drank Too Much Port

I have so many special, and beautiful memories from Porto. I could tell you about my favorite place (Livraria Lello, undeniably the most beautiful bookshop in the world), my favorite food (ahem, Pastel de Natas, a custard tart that I can never seem to eat enough), or the rain that forced us to take shelter in the most magical of places. But, there is one memory in particular that keeps tapping at the forefront of my mind. A moment of closeness, unexpected friendship, and a day full of port and laughter.

Friday, June 9, 2023: Douro Valley Wine Tour

I tried (and failed) not to make a face as I tossed back the esteemed 15-year port wine. "I think I drank too much." I whispered to Derek as I pushed the rest of my port samples to him. Already feeling the effects of the two port samples that had come before. For some reason, when we had tried Port in Lisbon, I recalled it tasting sweet. The 5,10, and 15-year port wine we just sampled tasted like a whiskey shot.

The tour guide caught me making a face, and laughed. Her voice was deep and smokey and she had a way of talking with her hands that engaged and enraptured the entire tour group. Three port drinks later and I swore she was speaking poetry. Her voice sounded lyrical as she walked around each table, explaining again how to properly drink the port wine.

"Remember, the lighter the port the older the wine. The younger the port, the sweeter the wine. Not as much different from you and me, no? Make sure to take a small sip, let it sit at the back of your throat for 10-seconds. Do you feel the fire, yes? Then swallow. You will taste the sweetness in the aftertaste."

I was pretty sure I was tipsy. The lights on the ceiling seemed to shine brighter, and the room seemed to be tilting to the left and then to the right. This day-tour of drinking port was maybe a bad idea. It is no secret that I can't drink more than two drinks on a good day. I could hear the sound of the rain hitting the ceiling and the sound was so soothing, I just wanted to lay my head on the table and sleep.

"Poor thing." The voice tore me out of my thoughts and I caught the bright blue eyes of the woman in front of me. She tapped her full glasses and pointed to her husband beside her, "He is gonna drink these for me too. These things will take me out in a minute." she laughed.

"I don't know how they do it." I said as I watched my Husband easily tilt the port back and drink it, no pinched face, just an easy smile as he talked to the woman's husband.

" My name is Isla." She held out her hand and I smiled as I shook it. We hadn't had a chance yet to talk to anyone, strike that, I didn't have a chance yet. It was also no secret Derek was the extroverted one in the pair. He had a magical ability to engage any person into a conversation, whereas, I always seemed to be at a loss for words.

But, there was something about Isla that made conversation flow (or maybe it was all the port wine). She was from Australia, and was telling me of her favorite places to go abroad. It had taken them almost a full-day to get to Porto, and they had other places planned in the books too. I told her it would probably have taken us the same amount of time if we still lived in Texas, but we lived in England now.

"England?" she looked shocked. "How did your Parents take the news when they found out you were moving there?" the question caught me unawares, no one usually asked about my Parents. Suddenly the words froze in my throat, and I was aghast to find my eyes fill with tears and I pressed my lips together to keep them from wobbling. I didn't know the right way to say that I didn't get a chance to tell my Mom before she passed. That my Father didn't stay in the picture.

Isla's eyes widened and she immediately grabbed my hand. "Please don't answer that, it is okay, do you want to go to the washroom?" I shook my head no as I steeled myself and wiped roughly at my eyes.

"I am so sorry, I don't know where that came from. I am okay, thank you for asking." I tried to smile and she seemed to know without me saying anything more.

"I lost my Mother at a young age. It was cancer, and it felt like she was there, then she was sick, then she was gone." Isla shocked me by saying, she looked down at her hands and then at me, "but she told me that she didn't want me to remember the 'good-bye', but the laughter during the family dinners, the paper hats she used to make us when we were celebrating something new, the adventure when we went to Disney the first time, the closeness when we got our first family dog, and the love that could never be forgotten."

She picked up the port and held up her glass in my direction, and I picked up the glass that I had pushed to Derek's side.

"To Mothers" Isla said, and we toasted and as she drank we continued to talk. For the first time in a long time, I felt like she wasn't trying to tip-toe around me or change the subject. When it was time to go to the next winery, we exchanged numbers and she stood up and gave me a tight hug. "If you find yourself in Australia, please visit me."

Sometimes, to make a new friend, you have to be vulnerable; and sometimes, you have to be at the right place, making a face at a port.

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I TRY TO ELEGANTLY DRINK PORT

PORTO GALLERY