Trudging through Porto.
October 17th 2006 I’ve been battered by kindness since crossing the border into Portugal. Old men chomping on their gums, little boys running barefoot in scruffy jeans: everyone has some advice to offer as I trudge wearily through Porto. There are a couple of theories at work here. One might lean too heavily on the goodness of the Portuguese - who, though I’ve quickly warmed to them, are probably no different
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