Welcome to the new section about ports and fishing techniques from around the world.
It was for unusual reasons that we spent several days sailing various Spanish and Portuguese ports on a cruise ship with an average age somewhere near seventy. It’s a strange way to travel when you’re too young to appreciate bingo, bridge, and the benefit of visiting multiple cities without unpacking, but old enough to realize you don’t belong.
Cruising is a cultural flight, of sorts — a taste of various regions, but without the ability to linger when one really tantalizes. One of those moments was Oporto. Something in the light shining down flat with the seagulls whipped into clouds torn ragged. The sharp grate of gulls calling cut by rigging ringing against metal. The old boats and the sailors helming them bringing in fish for the markets, before going out again each evening.
I left with oddments of footage. Not enough for a cohesive edit, but just barely enough for a vignette set to an excerpt from one of my favorite stories, The Old Man and The Sea by Ernest Hemingway.