Posted on October 8th, 2016
Last month I returned to Porto for the first time in forty years, having worked in the port wine trade in the 1970s. The journey from the airport revealed a city much changed, unrecognisable. But as I entered the port lodges of Vila Nova de Gaia all the memories came flooding back. The musty smell of wine ageing in old barrels; the taste of white, ruby, tawny and vintage ports; the haunting sound of portuguese guitars and fado.
“We’re so caught up in our everyday lives that events of the past, like ancient stars that have burned out, are no longer in orbit around our minds. There are just too many things we have to think about every day, too many new things we have to learn. New styles, new information, new technology, new terminology … But still, no matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some things we can never assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away. They remain with us forever, like a touchstone.” ― Haruki Murakami