Second-largest might not be second-best

So today we arrive on Portugese soil, a first for theboy and I. We had absolutely no inkling whatsoever about the language ('tis pretty serious when you arrive without knowing how to say 'Thank you' in the local language) and not much knowledge about the people and the culture.

But after half a day in Porto, the only thing that is definite about Portugal is the fact that it can be described in one word: Beautiful.

Taking the bus to the beach revealed bridges so high-up it felt like we were just midway between aeroplanes and the shore, an entire bus-side view of the ocean opening up as we were going at 90miles/hour, houses in stucco and sunwashed beige popping up like mushrooms amongst basil-like clumps of mountain vegetation... It kind of makes you lose words for a couple of minutes and then emerge from your thoughtfulness with a very intelligent Wahhh-wowww.

We picked the residential beach to begin our happy larking. I had to shout for theboy to hear me because the waves were crashing so hard on the rocks, and the water was a distinct blue-green. He ran like a young un to get his feet wet in the water, picking up conch shells and a particularly pretty rock that tickled his fancy. And I just lay on my beach towel lapping up some sun, my toes buried in a grainy mass of cool sand.

(Okay I realise the last paragraph sounded like a Joseph-Conrad-gone-happy piece of writing)

He actually opened a mussel to see what it looked like inside. And before doing so he approached me with a cautionary question: Do you think it will bite me?