retiredmartin

March 2024. Aveiro. Portugal.

A dash to our hostel in Aveiro, pausing only to admire the frontages and irritate Mrs RM.

Aveiro Rossio is called a hostel but we had our own room so we didn’t have to mix with the hoi polloi, and were only 5 minutes from the city’s two claims to fame.

Those odd things in the top left hand corner ?

They’re the salt ponds; you can take a bath in them, or race your snail along those banks,

(I assume it’s a snail, you know what my animal identification is like), but they didn’t hold Mrs RM’s attention for long.

The canal leads to a glorious old town where canal boats attempt to persuade you this is the “Venice of Portugal“, but it’s closer to Birmingham (without the Balti).

Still, that label attracts enough tourists (quite a few Americans) to explore Almeiro’s understated charms,

cobbled streets and ornate frontages.

We consulted Untappd for a craft beer tea, and found only Tough Love, which also goes under the name Lovecraft to confused Portuguese Keg Beer tickers. Confused us, anyway.

We knew we’d arrived because it was opening at 4pm, the statutory time for craft beer bars.

Look, I ain’t fooling you, you could be in a “craft beer” bar in Aberdeen or Aarhus or Ashington.

They all look the same, all have those boards behind the bar with a bewildering (but essentially identical) range of Lager/NIPA/Belgian/Sour/Stout.

Lovely comfy room, mind.

And a “CASK BEER” that’s not actually cask beer,

but I had it anyway,

and Mrs RM had the Black IPA because it was the strongest without going silly.

“Pints ?” asks the lovely barman, whose soundtrack of heavy dub was a winner.

“Pints !” says Mrs RM, a convert to pints since Brigg.

Mrs RM was delighted to see her name flash up on the big screen as she checked-in. The place was filling up by 5pm, and judging by the number of Untappd check-ins is doing good trade.

Perhaps the best beer of the trip, rich and full-bodied, but an absence of banter about Jethro Tull albums or Luton Town means the most exciting thing was our early tea, produced by a chap in an actual apron (so def.legit).

Fishcakes, prawns,

evil looking chips,

and of course the cheese in honey.

About £20 the 4, and because we’d walked in the rain the calories weren’t TOO bad.