Whilst at my favorite used bookstore in San Francisco, I happened across Sloane Crosley’s book of essays “How did you get this number”. Sloane’s first short story took me back to Porto, Portugal.  Like the author, I had set upon Porto on a solo trip not long ago...

June was blazing hot in the Douro region and I was being baked in the oven created by the tented restaurant rooftop. I had forgotten to bring sunscreen, in fact I couldn’t even recall if I owned any having just emerged from the Canadian winter. My shoulders were already burnt from the previous week spent in Cannes Frances.

At the lookout over Douro Valley, I had a private view of the layered vineyards. Wine was not exactly in my field of expertise but I was in the Douro Valley, home of the port wine. So when in Rome, you piece together tidbits of memory recollected from the wine tour you went on in Napa California, that time when you and your college friend rode the bus for 45 mins to see a family winery in the middle of nowhere in Bordeaux France, and you embark on the wine region of northern Portugal.

All is quiet in the Douro after lunch. It must be time for an afternoon siesta. The Douro River sits undisturbed and I’m thankful for a moment of peace. The lush greens of the Douro vineyards  in front of me reminded me of the rice fields so popular throughout Asia.

This was my Portuguese dragon’s scale.