Stefan Bachmann



(A portmanteau of Porto and Amsterdam, to continue the tradition of having blog titles that make no sense.)

(Also, I went to Porto, and I didn’t go to Amsterdam.)

(Also, why didn’t you go to Amsterdam when you said you would, and your blog title says Amsterdam in it, ya weirdo? the intrepid reader asks. Well, intrepid reader: my brother and his girlfran went to Amsterdam a few weeks before I was planning to go, and Brother said the food was gross and the air was gross, etc. etc., and while I don’t really believe him, and I’m sure Amsterdam has lots to recommend it, I figured I would only go to Porto and then stay in Switzerland and work instead. So I did.

But Porto was a really pleasant adventure, too, and I’ll just tell about that.


The red drink in the background was called ‘Berry Nice’ and it tasted berry nice. Like sour gummy worms.

A list of Porto’s fine features:




These dead people have nicer houses than most live people. They also have garbage cans for when they’re out and about, walking their little ghost-dogs.


(*Google tells me he was there for a conference. I didn’t stop to ask. I saw the welcome banner much too late to do me any good.)







And you’re like “AHAHAHA, *awkwardly slides past them, because you don’t want to get arrested*. I think they just offer it to anyone who looks foreign/young/and-or-male, which in their mind seems to equate stupid-enough-to-buy-baggies-of-unidentified-substances-in-broad-daylight-on-the-street-in-a-strange-land . . . which actually would be my plan of action, too, if I were a Portuguese drug-dealer.

But enough about drugs, this is off-brand, I write CHILDREN’S BOOKS.


So pretty. Pretty bridge. Pretty houses. Pretty pyjamas soakin’ up the sun.




Bye. 🙂

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