TUESDAY 30-4-24

Yesterday evenings DVD was 'Dirty Rotten Scoundrels', an entertaining film starring Michael Caine and Steve Martin at his best. We've seen it before, but some films are worth watching more than once.

This morning we were keen to get out of town. After a nice hot shower and breakfast we made our way round the block to the official Camperstop with a dump station(N40.643656° W8.639376°). We weren't on it long. I'm not one of those people who seem to make a day of it, often standing at the back of their vehicle fascinated at just how slow their grey water dribbles out of their small bore waste pipe. We've got a wide bore pipe. Open the gate valve and gush!

There had been another change of plan overnight. We are now cutting out more planned destinations. The thinking being we've been in Portugal two weeks now, and had planned a month. Of the two remaining weeks, though nothing is ever set in stone, the coming week is supposed to be unsettled followed by a week (at least, hopefully) of blue skies and sunshine, and we want to be spending that on the Algarve.

So this morning we were back on the toll road heading south to Caldas da Rainha, a journey of about an hour and a half. Promisingly the fields either side of the road changed from water logged to quite dry, so I guess they haven't had as much rain in the south.

We pulled on to a convenient car park (N39.411284 W9.136064) parking between a couple of old vans and one old and one new motorhome. I deliberately put our vehicle across two parking spaces  right on the edge because the motorhomes had parked so close to each other in order to remain in their allocated parking spaces that I don't know how they got out of the vehicles. Maybe they climbed through a window.

After lunch and having waited until the rain showers passed, we made our way in to town, though trying to identify which way we needed to walk to the centre was not obvious.

So a bit about Caldas da Rainha:

Although the city itself lies about 10.5 kilometres (6.5 mi) inland, three of the municipality's civil parishes lie on the Atlantic Ocean. Caldas da Rainha is best known for its sulphurous hot springs and ceramic pottery.

The settlement was founded in the 15th century by Queen Leonor (Rainha Dona Leonor), who established a hospital and a church at the site of some therapeutic hot springs. The Hospital Termal Rainha D. Leonor (Queen Leonor Spring Water Hospital, or Thermal Hospital) is the oldest purpose-built institution of its kind in the world, with five centuries of history. The city's name, often shortened to simply "Caldas", can be translated as "Queen's Hot Springs", "Queen's Spa", or "Queen's Baths".

Caldas da Rainha is a UNESCO Creative City. It is home to many cultural institutions. The city's nine museums cover art, history, and cycling. Cultural and sports venues include Centro Cultural e de Congressos (CCC, Cultural and Conference Centre), a centre for performing arts, exhibitions, and conferences; Expoeste – Centro de Exposições do Oeste (Exhibition Centre of the West), which hosts exhibitions and festivals; a bullring; several football pitches; and a multi-sport municipal complex. Caldas hosts six professional and higher-educational institutions, including a major arts and design school and a school devoted to ceramics. In 2014 Caldas da Rainha had the best public secondary school in Portugal based on national test scores.

During World War I, in which Portugal joined the Allies, Caldas had one of three internment camps in the country. In 1916, most Germans in Portugal were deported, but men aged 15–45 were imprisoned to prevent their joining the German military. Originally, all of the approximately 700 prisoners were shipped to Angra do Heroísmo, on Terceira Island in the Azores, where they were held at the Fortress of São João Baptista. In 1918, to reduce overcrowding at the fortress, 168 internees were moved to Caldas, where they stayed in military barracks located at the Parque D. Carlos I (Pavilhões do Parque). The prisoners were released the following year, after the end of the war.

During World War II, in which Portugal remained neutral, hundreds of Jewish refugees came to Caldas da Rainha to escape Nazism. Caldas also served as home to British and American airmen who landed or crashed in Portugal or off its coast. In January 1943, 230 Britons resident in Axis power Italy were evacuated to Caldas, where they were expected to stay until the end of the war. Most of these evacuees were over 65 years of age and had resided in Italy for a long time.

It makes for an interesting read, but the reality is that it's all rather drab. As The Chef was to remark "It's all a bit of a dump really". It would be pointless my trying to tell a different story. The guide book suggests that a lot of local ceramics are sold here, but we didn't see one shop selling it. There were a few Chinese shops. They have lots of them in Spain as well. They're like 'Poundland', only nothing costs a Pound, and they're probably staffed by the same families that run the local takeaway. Back home we used to refer to them as 'Cheap Jack shops'

I took a few pictures but it was trying to make something out of nothing.

Tomorrow we head down the road to Obidos. We may have to spend a couple of nights there. The first on a convenient Camperstop to town, and the second on one further out but which has electricity. This will allow us to get bits charged up, but more importantly, allow The Chef to use her hair dryer.

"And this is property number five. Now you said you wouldn't mind a bit of a project"

MONDAY 29-4-24

It was a peaceful night given our location, and I never did bother setting the alarm clock to make an early morning inspection of the Camperstop across the road to check for any spaces.

Today was our second day in Aveiro. Yesterday had been very busy, it being a weekend with a marathon race thrown in as well. We had yet to look at the Old Quarter, not that we were expecting any wow moments, but it seemed to make sense to enjoy the sunshine in town rather than to use the day to drive to another destination.

We were both wearing out fleece tops and I carried my backpack allowing me to put the camera in it until we reached our destination rather than have it hanging on my trouser belt. It seems odd to be wearing 'hoodies' with a clear sky and sunshine, and on paper, warm temperatures, but there is always a cool breeze, so as soon as you fel warm enough and take it off, you're very soon feeling cold enough to put it back on again.

I realised last night that I hadn't prepared any background notes for Oveiro, so I'll type a little bit from the travel guide:

This little city, once a great sea port, has a long history, with its salt pans featuring in a will in AD959. By the 16th century, Aveiro was a considerable town, rich from salt and the bacalhoeiros fishing for cod off Newfoundland. When storms silted up the harbour in 1575 this wealth vanished, and the town languished beside its lagoon, the ria. Only in the 19th century did Aveiro regain its prosperity and is now  ringed with industry.

The brightly coloured boats on the canals are moliceiros. They once harvested  seaweed for use in fertilisers. Now they make far more money harvesting the wallets of tourists who want a ride on them.

It was pleasant enough just wandering around the Old Quarter before walking along the side of one of the canals to the edge of town to check out our 'Plan B' parking area (N40.643656° W8.659452°) as the Google Street View showed it with construction work going on and I wondered if it now even existed. Fortunately for fellow travellers it was still there alongside the coach parking area. It had marked out parking bays on nice smooth tarmac, but sadly no dump station.

Lunch was taken in town and cost us about twenty Euros. We then tried to kill some time before making our way back. This included a nice long sit on a park bench next to the canal. It was like a poor man's Venice. Then it was time for a coffee and cake. Given the lovely interior of the cafe and the selection on tempting pasties we were expecting to get stung for two coffees and two cakes, but it came to just five Euros and that was after the owner rounded it up. We've noticed that although it is traditional for customers to round the figure up a bit by way of a tip, the businesses seem to be doing that themselves, just to make sure they get a bit extra.

Tomorrow we will be enjoying a nice hot shower before using the dump station across the road. Then it will be down to the local supermarket for a few bits, then back on the road. We're going to continue to chop bits out of the Travelscript and make our way further south. We've a week of sunshine and showers ahead of us and we'll use that to get ourselves down to the Lisbon area, maybe even do Lisbon as well, before heading for the Algarve where it should be nice and warm, and where every man and his motorhome will be trying to get parked up. I must admit I'll be pleased once we're back in Spain and on familiar territory.

SUNDAY 28-4-24

Peter Capaldi - he was the bloke who played Dr Who and stars in 'The Thick of It', the second series of three episodes of which we watch yesterday evening.

The Chef, my Intelligence Officer had returned from a fact finding mission to inform me that the village idiot who sounded like he was playing with a turntable was in fact hosting a Zumba session in the cow shed very close to us. It was supposed to have lasted an hour but overran to 90 minutes, but that's fine, I'm happy to live with that because I know that folk are enjoying themselves BUT it won't run on for hours and hours.

The geriatric horn player and his mates were on next and warming up and then at about 18:40 climbed in the vehicle and drove off. I thought they'd gone off to snort a line of cocaine or a rub down with a muscle relaxant. But they never came back. So I assumed that they were the act for the following day or something. That's when we assumed it was clear for us to watch a DVD - enter Peter Capaldi and series two.

Quite unexpectedly at 21:45 a different band struck up and began banging out loud music. The Chef told me this morning it ended at about midnight. I didn't know because I was away pretty much as soon as my head hit the pillow (I'm told).

It was a wet night, but no matter, nothing could dampen our spirits knowing we were leaving Camping Shithole this morning. I was up first in order to put the central heating on for a bit as it's still a bit fresh here first thing, and we'd need to feel comfortable getting dressed after our lovely hot shower across at the toilet block. The Chef was so looking forward to washing her hair.

Wearing  my dressing gown and flip-flops and armed with my toilet bag and towel I was first across the road. I thought it would be best to turn the shower hot tap (the only facilities on site supplied with hot water) full bore and adjust the temperature by mixing cold with it once the hot water and got through. So I waited, and I waited - no hot water. So it was back home to break the news to The Chef and to then turn the boiler on to generate our own hot water for our showers.

Eventually after complaints from customers staff appeared and then changed the large LPG cylinders powering the toilet block's boilers. Quite astonishing, but certainly not a surprise.

I dumped doing it the hard way using a watering can for the fresh water and a collapsible silicone bucket for the grey water. Everything had to be wiped down because it was covered in wet sand, and that included twenty-five metres of mains cable.

I suggested to The Chef that if they ask at Reception if we enjoyed our stay she should tell them that it was the worst campsite we had ever stayed at, but as it was they didn't ask, and why should they, they'd already had our money.

There's a very useful product I discovered a couple of years ago, it's called Milliput, and it's like an epoxy putty and has a million and one uses. Well this morning on the way out I was VERY tempted to go the short distance to where the shot put champion come fisherman's wife refused us some fresh water from the water pipe yesterday and ram some mixed up Milliput in to the padlock they use to secure their hosepipe in a storage box. The only thing that stopped me was that they were back there again this morning selling more fish.

Off then to our next destination, Ovar, which was only about four miles down the road, and somewhere we should have been at yesterday had we managed to pick up a tank of fresh water.

We parked up in a large car park which was very quiet (N40.857590° W8.628495°), I suppose because it was Sunday. We had a nice wander around and treated ourselves to lunch out comprising of two lattes and a couple of savoury pastries. Just five Euros for everything.

We then debated our next move. I had thought we'd stay there for the night, but The Chef thought we were just passing through on the way to somewhere else. Having thought about it I concluded that as it was a Sunday and the roads were quieter, it made sense to be moving on and so we did, to our next planned destination - Aveiro. I can't remember the mileage but it was something like fifteen miles to our destination, a Camperstop right across from the train station (N40.643515° W8.639376°). There are only twelve large dedicated parking spaces for Motorhomes, but it was bedlam. Not only were they all full but campers were also trying to shoehorn themselves in to car parking spaces, whilst others waited for a miracle, that somebody would leave one of those twelve spaces and they'd dive in.

Being more pragmatic we settled for an area of rough land on the opposite side of the road. Not ideal, but we're here. I may well set the alarm clock for seven o'clock tomorrow morning so that I can pop across to see if anybody has left a space, if not we'll stay here.

Once we were settled we were off for the town centre. It was a lovely day, spoilt only by the town deciding to close roads to have their own marathon race. It was all very pleasant down there, and very busy, and rather than have a picture overload today I shall share pictures of Aveiro tomorrow because we've decided to stay another day and make the most of the last sunny day before an unsettled period of weather.

A few long-term pitches are still available if you hurry

SATURDAY 27-4-24

It was a rather wet night but we didn't mind as we were in the arm and dry. The cunning plan this morning was for me to check to see if the sponge in the boiler cupboard was wet before The Chef had a shower. That way, if it was dry, and then wet after our showers I'd know that was where the problem lay. Luckily after checking that I went over and dumped the toilet cassette before discovering that there was no water switched on, so no rinsing for the dump and no fresh water. This was a huge blow as we were relying on that to tide us over the next three days or so.

This meant showers were off, as we probably only had about twenty litres of fresh water left leaving us with eighty litres in the grey waste tank. So it was a wash and wipe down before setting off up the road for a few bits from the local Aldi store. Being Saturday I expected the shop to be heaving, but it was really quiet leaving us to wander around at leisure.

As I was preparing the vehicle to leave I noticed we had been blessed with some dog pooh on the mat between the cab seats and the habitation area. Oh deep joy, a little parting gift from the irresponsible dog owners of Porto.

On the way out of the car park all I had left to do was dump the grey water before we hit the road heading for Ovar. Why I don't know, but it's Portugal. With little water we were going to head for a beachside car park in the nearby community of Furadouro (N40.875830° W8.673489°) where according to Google Maps it looked as if it had a dump station at the far end. If that were the case and we could refill with water we'd move to a car park in central Ovar.

It was a wet journey, and I had to be extra cautious because we were a bit light on the front end owing to our having an almost empty water tank.

Finding the car park was pretty straightforward, but finding the dump station wasn't. Since Google last flew over taking their aerial pictures, a couple of small portable buildings had been placed on it. Worse still, the area was being used by local fishermen to wash their fish and sell on their stalls. I did gesture to the big old lass holding the hosepipe if I could have some for our motorhome, but no, she wasn't parting with it, and I can't speak the lingo to have an argument about it. So that was that. The only option we had left was to go to the nearby campsite Camping Park of Furadouro (N40.877038° W8.669352°) and book a one night stay so that we can get water and a few chores done while we're about it.

As usual The Chef went in to Reception to sort things while I stayed with the vehicle. I was in a small lay-by facing the camp entrance. I've never seen anything like it. People coming and going were having to scan a card, rather like you get for hotel rooms, to be allowed through either a turnstile or electrically opening gates. This was a little reminder of why we hate campsites so much.

Having done the deal (twenety Euros a night) we could drive in to the campsite, but hold hard there. Only one person can be in the vehicle as it passes through the barrier, everybody else had to go through the turnstile etc.

The front of house looked really quite smart, which is more than can be said for the campsite itself. It's what can be described as a 'family site', and would be of particular interest to nature lovers as they don't mow the grass, it's like camping in a wild meadow.

Never mind, after eventually settling on a piece of rough ground to park on, I set about washing the mat and a couple of other bits. I had to lay the mat over the bonnet to try and dry it. After lunch it was time for a walk to the beach. We decided to walk around the perimeter of the site, where we discovered the joys of having a long-term pitch where a caravan, awning and anything else you can squeeze in the space can be parked up for continual enjoyment. It looked more like a refugee camp than anything else.

Eventually we reached the beach and able to watch the waves rolling in. It looks as if they surf around here given the advertising on local cafe's etc. It was four hours before high tide so I guess the rollers were going to get a bit bigger yet.

Once we had tired of the walk along the beach front we walked down the pedestrianised 'high street' and back to the campsite.

Tomorrow we'll be away as soon as we're ready, making our way to the car park in central Ovar for a look around.

We are now being entertained by some crap amplified live music. It sounds as if the village idiot has been let loose with a turntable to play with. Presumably the campsite peasants are going to be entertained whether they like it or not.............................. All we wanted was some bloody water.

FRIDAY 26-4-24

We had a little bit of rain yesterday evening, the first since we landed on the Iberian Peninsula, so we can't grumble. The evening's entertainment was all three episodes of the first series of 'The Thick of It', starring what's-is-name Capoldi, the bloke who played Dr Who for a while. Quite entertaining, though it comes with lots of bad language.

We had more rain during the night which seemed like a good excuse not to get up too early. We weren't planning on doing too much, just visits to Taylor's cellars www.taylor.pt  and the cathedral.

Thankfully the Portuguese were back at work today and we managed to get a seat on the tram all the way in to Porto. Today we bought a ticket which allowed us to travel just one more stop allowing us to cross the Ponte de D.Luis bridge on the upper level affording is a better view as we crossed the river.

So finally a bit about Porto:

Located along the Douro River estuary in northern Portugal, Porto is one of the oldest European centres, and its core was proclaimed a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 1996, as the "Historic Centre of Porto, Luiz I Bridge and Monastery of Serra do Pilar". The historic area is also a National Monument of Portugal. The western part of its urban area extends to the coastline of the Atlantic Ocean. Its settlement dates back many centuries when it was an outpost of the Roman Empire. Its combined Celtic-Latin name, Portus Cale, has been referred to as the origin of the name Portugal, based on transliteration and oral evolution from Latin.

Port Wine, one of Portugal's most famous exports, is named after Porto, since the metropolitan area, and in particular the cellars of Vila Nova de Gaia, were responsible for the packaging, transport, and export of fortified wine. In 2014 and 2017, Porto was elected ‘The Best European Destination’ by the Best European Destinations Agency. Porto is on the Portuguese Way path of the Camino de Santiago.

In 1996, UNESCO recognised Porto's historic centre as a World Heritage Site. Among the architectural highlights of the city, Porto Cathedral is the oldest surviving structure, together with the small Romanesque Church of Cedofeita, the gothic Igreja de São Francisco (Church of Saint Francis), the remnants of the city walls and a few 15th-century houses. The baroque style is well represented in the city in the elaborate gilt work interior decoration of the churches of St. Francis (São Francisco) and St. Claire (Santa Clara), the churches of Mercy (Misericórdia) and of the Clerics, the Episcopal Palace of Porto, and others. The neoclassicism and romanticism of the 19th and 20th centuries also added interesting monuments to the landscape of the city, like the magnificent Stock Exchange Palace (Palácio da Bolsa), the Hospital of St Anthony, the Municipality, the buildings in the Liberdade Square and the Avenida dos Aliados, the tile-adorned São Bento railway station and the gardens of the Crystal Palace (Palácio de Cristal). A guided visit to the Palácio da Bolsa, and in particular, the Arab Room is a major tourist attraction.

Many of the city's oldest houses are at risk of collapsing. The population in Porto municipality dropped by nearly 100,000 since the 1980s, but the number of permanent residents in the outskirts and satellite towns has grown strongly.

After the past couple of days hiking around Porto, up and down, up and down, I swear the locals must have mountain goat's blood in them. It's not helped by the streets being very narrow in most places and you keep losing your point of reference. Eventually we came across Taylor's cellars (N41.13394° W8.61435°). The free maps issued by the Tourist Office were of no help at all, and I'd failed to take along the guide book and my phone today to try and lighten my load as I was also carrying macs and puffa jackets.

I knew this visit wouldn't have been high on the list of The Chef's top ten places to visit and so I felt I should pay for the entrance tickets. In total it came to forty Euros including a wine tasting at the end of the self guided tour.

I think even The Chef found it interesting and we were round it in about two hours, though I think that included the wine tasting. It comprised of a small glass of a white and red port. Neither of us were wild about the white, but the red was most enjoyable. Naturally the wine tasting area was right next to the shop. In the end I succumbed to the lure of half a bottle of twenty year old Tawny port. Had I opted for a full bottle of the forty year old Tawny I would have had to sell The Chef in to slavery to pay for it.

Then it was time for a late lunch. we decided to head to the indoor food market again where we both settled for a ham and cheese toasted sandwich, one bottle of water and a small beer all for fourteen Euros which was pretty good.

Then it was back over the river to try and find the cathedral. In the end we found a few Ecclesiastical establishments but none of them turned out to be the cathedral. We did eventually spot it further downhill and nearer to the bridge than our useless map suggested, but we'd had enough of traipsing around - we were going home.

We had touched lucky with the rain whilst we were out. It was macs on for a bit of light rain after leaving Taylor's then we were just approaching a short road tunnel compete with a footpath when a spell of heavy rain came down. Needless to say we stood in the tunnel until it stopped. Then soon after leaving Porto on the tram the heavens opened, and they're still open. never mind, we got home without getting wet, what with the tram station being just across the road from where we're parked.

Tomorrow we'll be having a nice hot shower before popping down the road to the Aldi supermarket to top up supplies, then using the dump station and away. I hope the journey out of the area will be easier than the one in. At one fraught moment I didn't spot the next painted pedestrian crossing was in fact three dimensional and we hit it much faster than I would have liked. Gosh, we did bounce. It was like something out of 'The Dukes of Hazard'.  

The kind of boats which used to transport barrels of Port along the river Douro to the city of Porto

THURSDAY 25-4-24

For the first time on this trip we watched a DVD in the evening. We've not bothered up until now because motorhomes have been parked a bit close to each other and with windows open due to the heat it's easy to be an annoyance to neighbours. But last night we had our small area of grass separating us from a Frog who's living long-term in his less than tidy motorhome, and on the other we had empty car parking spaces.  It was a film another cheapy from Amazon.UK - 'The Duke' starring Jim Broadbent and Helen Mirren. It was based on a true story and quite entertaining.

I was ready for a noisy night but amazingly the night was totally silent, even the local dogs had decided to have a night off. This resulted in my having a good night's sleep, well as good a night's sleep as an elderly man with a prostrate can expect. Unfortunately my darling Chef didn't fare so well, but still had enough bounce this morning to face a day in Porto.

Oddly enough at exactly 08:30 the local mad dogs came out for a good old bark lasting about ten minutes and then it all stopped.

Despite skipping a shower to avoid adding to the grief of the water leak we still didn't get out until about 10:00.

My, my, we had a problem trying to buy the two tickets we needed to take us from our stop, Vende Nova to Sao Bento in the city centre. In the end a lady helped us sort it and from now on we'll be buying such things with old fashioned cash rather than jump through the hoops required to pay by card.

When the tram arrived it was pretty much full which was surprising since it had only come one stop from when it started off. We had twelve stops to make before changing to another line and heading south a couple of stops. All the way along the tram was filling up as well as dropping off, but it was certainly picking up more than were getting off. It was like being on the London Underground in rush hour.

It wasn't until we arrived at our final destination that we were reminded that today was 25th April - the fiftieth anniversary of Portugal's independence. the 'Revolution without Blood' when the people wrestled back control from their military government. On that day the people took to the streets and put carnation flowers in the barrels of the soldiers guns. That's why today there were red carnations for sale everywhere and people were walking around with one tucked in somewhere.

Our first stop was pretty much just across the road at the famous Sao Bento railway station which is decorated internally with huge ceramic pictures on its walls. Then it was a wander downhill based on the theory that downhill we take you to the river. It was getting very warm, and the place was heaving but we had to persevere.

We were in the Ribeira district, home to the well photographed Ponte Dom Luis 1, a steel bridge across the river Douro taking pedestrians, cars and trams across to the Vila Nova de Gaia district. The bridge was designed by Theophile Seyrig - a business partner of Gutave Eiffel, the man who i believe, built a rather poor French copy of Blackpool Tower. It was built in 1886. Before then locals would cross the river by tying boats side by side and walking across them.

After having a bit of a sit down close to the bridge we made our way across it on the lower level and in to the Nova de Gaia district. It was a lot quieter over there, though we did still have the sound of lots of Yanks on holiday ringing in our ears.

We popped in to one establishment which sold nothing but small tins of sardines, except that they were decorated in many different designs including every year for probably about the last 100 years, plus kids designs and all sorts. It seemed very much a case of 'I don't like the fish but I loved the tin'.

Lunch was enjoyed in a food hall, after looking that all that was on offer we settled for option 2 because option 1 just weren't coping with the demand and a lot of people were stood with their tickets waiting for their food. Option 2 was fried pieces of chicken breast with fries and sauce. Not very exciting but as they didn't sell any seafood we could be sure of The Chef not getting an allergic reaction to shellfish.

This was the side of the river where the Port establishments are located and where I think we shall be returning tomorrow for a tour and a snifter.

Then it was back over the ridge and up the hill to find the area where some entertainment was being laid on throughout the day. Unfortunately we must have missed the best stuff because all we had to wait for was a concert starting at 15:00. When it started up the songs, to my untrained ear, sounded more like the geezer that sang that song 'Hey watta matter you, hey, gotta no respect ah shuttup ya face'. But the locals liked it and they seem easily pleased.

Fortunately The Chef was able to tear herself away and we made our way back. In the back of my mind was that water leak and I really did want to take a look at it before it got too late, as we're expecting light rain showers this evening and thunder showers and sunshine tomorrow.

The journey back on the tram was just as crowded, but this time because we looked like old gits people gave their seats up to us. I don't like sitting if there is a woman standing, I'll always offer her my seats, but hey, we took them up on it and had a more comfortable journey back.

Upon our arrival home The Chef put the kettle on and after enjoying a nice cup of tea I set about finding the water leak for the second attempt. Having emptied the locker to then gain access to the boiler cupboard I was pleased to feel that the sponge I place down to stop water running around where possible was dry, which I hope, means that yesterday's attempt was successful, we'll just have to wait and see. Fingers crossed.

Tomorrow we return to the city, hoping that everybody else has gone back to work or school, and things are a lot less crowded. I'll be carrying the backpack again, only this time it will have our macs in it. We plan to do one or two indoor things like maybe a Port establishment tour and the cathedral