Day one in Porto

I landed in Porto at 8 am and exhausted from the red flight, I made my way to the hotel but of course could not check in yet. I decided to grab some coffee and then hopefully make my way through the day. I walked right out of the hotel and saw one of those hop on/hop off buses, it was pouring rain and my energy was low so I thought what the hell and inquired how much? $20 for a two day pass. I’d spend more if I got caught in the rain and had to uber. I decided to get on, I sat in eye sight of the driver to center on a sense of safety. He very well could’ve been a threat but I assessed from his kind eyes and eagerness to accommodate me he probably had a daughter my age somewhere and he was my best bet. Also, the people on these kinds of buses are families with kids with legs too little to walk, and retirees. I felt as safe as could be as I we circled the city, and promptly fell asleep. I set an alarm on my phone for 20 min intervals, so I’d wake up and assess my initial assessment of safety. We probably drove around the city 3 times before I had enough rest to make use of the day. I heard on the tour about a famous book shop and decided to get off at that stop, it was a 30 min cue, and I truly had nothing better to do so I grabbed a nutella waffle and tea from a street vendor and stood in line. I then wandered around the city, and found a line to tour a church. I stood in that line, something about the bustling of lines and the unity of it made me feel less alone, so I did not mind the lines at all. It helped pass the time as I counted down until I could check in to my hotel and get into a bed.

While at the church, I met two guys from Germany. I chuckled to myself at a strange image of the nativity (I wasn’t brave enough to take a photo, but it was an image of Mary giving birth to Jesus and her face was in anguish and Joseph looked alarmed. I had never seen this image before and the truth of it, when most images paint a beautiful “born in a manger” image of baby Jesus, thrilled me) My chuckle in the quiet drew their attention and they asked me what I was doing here, I quickly decided to tell a half-truth and say I was here for work. A good one for solo travel, because it asserts that there are people in the city aware of your well-being but explains why you’re alone. They told me they’d been here since Wednesday and I asked them where I should go with my limited time (since Im here for work). They recommended the garden! So I’m heading there on day two.

Meeting the Germans made me smile. They reminded me of a conversation I had with my therapist when I told her I’d be spending time in Europe, I quipped what if I meet someone? What if they're German? And white? And we had a family, and my kid was German and looked white and the kids worldview felt alien to my own? What if I had a white presenting kid, who couldn’t help but be drunk on their privilege. And I see it so clearly-a kid with light eyes, and straight hair, and pale skin-but my smile, and my laugh, all mine in every way, but moving through the world with a level of protection I can only pray to God to provide my younger cousins, and nephews, and my niece. Genetics are unpredictable, and my attractions surprise me, so this is a thought I’ve had often. How I would raise a white kid, and something about going to Europe-offering the possibility of another layer of differing identity to my non-existent, imaginary, child-made me want to spend an hour session in therapy processing it.

Well we’ll never know because the German’s I met weren’t white, they were middle eastern. And although we exchanged whatsapps, I never heard from them again. So I may not ever know. But meeting them reminded me-it’s all within the realm of possibilty. Anyways, I needed to get in a bed. After traveling for almost 48 hours.