Day 31 = Wednesday, April 11, 2012
After a morning of internet searching yesterday (and a lot of Google Translate help as well), I finally got a response from a reasonable therapeutic massage place near our apartment that could take me today!
On my way there, I took our laundry to a drop-off laundry place, due to the laundry detergent fiasco.
Now that the swelling in my foot had gone down, I could get a proper workout on my leg, so my appointment ran really long (no complaints, there). When I realized what time it was, I had to literally run in the pouring rain to get there before the laundry closed. If I didn’t make it by 6:00 pm, we would lose all of our clothing, since we were leaving for the airport at 4:15 the next morning. I ran into David just outside the laundry, as he was afraid of the same thing, so we got to walk home and get drenched together.
Packing takes ages, so while David cooked dinner and cleaned up the apartment, I packed our now-clean clothes. According to the fish scale, we were seriously over the allowed weight for our bags, so we jettisoned a few things: my black skirt, David’s green pants, Quinland’s conditioner, our DK Portugal guidebook. Quinland heroically volunteered to give up her worn-once dress shoes. We stayed up until 12:45 am making these decisions, with the alarm set for 3:45 to meet with the landlady for checkout. Ugh.
We neglected to take any photos of the apartment, but here are a few from Cristina’s ad on Hostelworld:
The apartment was pretty good-sized. Quinland was excited to have a TV that was loaded with movies; we were all thrilled to have internet in our very own place.
Q’s room was tiny – barely more than a closet, really – but she had her own space again.
The kitchen was gorgeous – new and large and shiny. There was a full-sized fridge, which was a far cry from leaving our food sitting out for five days, as in the hotel room in Braga. Nothing like warm yogurt and slimy cheese to kill your appetite.
Adeus, Porto apartment!
Expenditures: Massage; laundry.
Experiences: Massage from an osteopath, and a chatty one, no less; very informative, I must say. Added to this, I have never – even at home – dropped off my laundry and had it washed, dried and folded. Dry cleaning, yes, but not the whole shebang. David’s dress shirt even came back in a fancy plastic bag.