I went to the Santiago cathedral when it opened at 10:00 this morning to try to see the Portico of Glory before we leave.

The Portico de La Gloria was the cathedral’s main entry when the original Romanesque version was built in the 12th century. It is remarkably detailed and well-preserved, and underwent an extensive renovation ending in 2018.

Because of its significance and fragility, the portico requires a separate timed entrance ticket from the rest of the cathedral.

There were lines at 3 of the 4 cathedral entrances at 10, so I picked one and stood in it. Figuring out where to get the appropriate ticket required standing in the line to ask the attendant. There were a dizzying number of options, requiring each visitor to craft their specific visit and obtain the correct ticket. Not a very efficient process, but I somehow managed to stand in the right line.

I somehow got in to the next timed entry, and was led up and down several floors of stairs to a waiting area.

It was worth it. I had seen the portico 30 years ago before its restoration, when it was still accessible from the main cathedral.

The stonework, depicting heaven, hell, Christ, the apostles, angels, demons, and various biblical stories, had been covered in so many centuries of dust that some of the original polychrome paint was visible after the restoration.

Don Vicente called me unexpectedly to thank me again for the visit, and to ask me to send him copies of the wedding photos from 1989 that I had showed him on my phone. I hope that means that our meeting struck a cord with him in some small way, and revived a pleasant memory during this time of transition.

Our visit to Santiago complete, I picked up the car from the parking lot to start the 2-hour drive to Porto.

Victoria couldn’t find her phone, so we had to go back through the labyrinth to the hotel after a few miles. It was on her seat when she got out of the car.

I had rented a Mercedes A-class midsized car “or equivalent,” as rental companies like to say.

The car they had for me was a Škoda, a Volkswagen brand from Eastern Europe. I upgraded to a BMW X1 compact SUV for $30 more, hoping it would be more familiar. (The car has been fine, but very different from the last BMW I owned).

Our arrival in Porto was inauspicious. Like most European cities, its streets were not designed for automotive travel. After a long lap around the hotel, we found 15 minute parking and checked in.

Victoria outdid herself on our reservation at the Infante Sagres. Because she used American Express, we got a VIP upgrade to a nicer room, a bottle of champagne, and a free dinner. Built in the 19th century, the hotel is stunning, with dark wood, stained glass, and attendants in top hats. They did not seem to mind having a dusty pilgrim in zip-off hiking pants in their midst.

After we got checked in and parked nearby, we took a walk to the famous Ribiera on the Duoro River.

We had Victoria’s VIP dinner in the evening, and walked around this beautiful, hip city after dark. This is perhaps the only time live experienced “night time” on this trip, since Portugal kept GMT time when Franco moved Spain to Central European Time. Little did he know that Central Europe would soon move east to Belgium, and later perhaps to Hungary.