With a 0930 flight to Porto from Gatwick, we dragged out of bed at 0500 several hours before London dawn to take a 0630 black cab to the Gatwick Express in Victoria Station. Thorben the Thames night manager hailed a taxi for us in a nanosecond, and off we drove through the inky darkness of London, leaving Knightsbridge behind for Victoria Station.
The city is under construction everywhere. No fewer than three new or expanded buildings are in progress within a block of Royal Thames, and we could see lighted cranes all along our short route to Victoria. Our cab driver pointed out one of the last standing Victorian structures along the way, noting that one by one, all the old historical structures are all being replaced by contemporary buildings. He didn’t sound terribly happy about that prospect.
The ride to Victoria took only a few minutes in the pre-dawn traffic, and we entered the Gatwick Express terminal in time to take the 0645 train instead of the 0700 one I had originally planned. Security is fairly tight at Gatwick, as you either buy a ticket from the machines on site outside the gate or scan your pre-purchased ticket to get in.
Once inside the station, you take an elevator or escalator up to the platform and just walk to board the train on the platform or wait on the next one. They are spaced 15 minutes apart, so the wait is never long.
Inside, the train was very comfortable and quiet, with plenty of storage for our luggage. In only 30 minutes were were stepping out into Gatwick North Terminal to check our bags at easyJet’s long, long row of self-check bag machines. They have automated virtually every step in the flying process to squeeze every penny they can out of operations and keep fares ridiculously low.
Gatwick is basically a shopping mall with runways. Since virtually all flights go to another country, the duty-free mall is in full force. In order to get to the gate area, passengers are funneled through a huge circle of shops offering the usual duty-free items of liquor, perfumes, cigarettes, chocolates, clothing and souvenirs. What passengers don’t seem to realize is that the duty-free prices are about the same or sometimes even more than what you can buy the same merchandise for in town. But all major international airports are set up the same way, so I suppose it is profitable to someone.
After grabbing a quick breakfast in one of the lounges, we made our way to our gate to find hordes of passengers already in line to board our flight. By the time we reached the check-in desk, the attendant told me our duffel bag would have to go underneath the seat. Thank goodness we had packed carefully before departing the Thames and kept the contents of the duffel as small as possible. It stuffed right under. Unfortunately, easyJet had changed equipment on me without notification, so the seats I had booked in what was supposed to be a row of two seats turned out to be a standard A320 row of three seats in a fully loaded plane.
The flight itself was packed but pleasant, as most passengers slept for the two and a half hours. My duffle stuffed easily under the seat in front of me, and my brief case slid underneath Lynn’s seat with her bag without problem. The overheads were stuffed so much everyone had to sit on their coats. This airline doesn’t waste a cubic inch of space.
When we arrived at Porto’s rather impressive and quite contemporary airport (it looks remarkably like the new billion-dollar boondoggle known as The New MSY), we had to deplane down a flight of stairs right in front of the covered jetway. I figured that was another way easyJet cuts costs–they don’t pay for the ramp for passengers to walk into the airport sheltered from the elements.
Surprisingly, we had to clear passport control upon entering the airport. Since the U.K. is still in the EU, I had thought we would not have to do that. I wonder what it will be like after the end of this month and Brexit. When we told the passport control officer that we were five days in Porto and another week in Lisbon, she chided us that Porto is better and more Portuguese than that big international city of Lisbon.
We hoped she was right.
Porto’s airport is quite a ways north of the city, and the taxi was fully 30 euros to our apartment, which is situated in a very old part of town at the peak of Rua da Picaro, which runs up a long hill. Bernardo from Air BnB was there to greet us, take us up the stairs to our first-floor apartment, check us out and give us tips on where to go and what to see in Porto. Altogether check-in was a pleasant and simple experience. Thank you, Bernardo.
The apartment was Euro sleek in Ikea style, white everywhere and quite neat and comfortable. The washing machine was located in a covered space outside on the spacious terrace. The kitchen featured that rarity in European visitor apartments–a dishwasher. And the American-size built-in refrigerator included a larger freezer than we have at home. Coffee could be made from either a hot pot for instant or the Nespresso pod machine; they even included a few pods to get us started. The bathroom was spacious, featuring a separate shower already equipped with soaps and shampoo.
We were home. At least for the rest of the week. Now on to unpacking, grocery shopping, lunch, exploring and dinner. And wine.