One of us has started the long-awaited summer holiday. Me it ain't.
Dragging oneself out of the bed at 6.30 in the morning is even harder now as The Boy Next Door just rolls over and blissfully continues hissnoring sleep.
Sure, he too needs some rest. Though this holiday thing seems to be totally messing with his already challenged sense of time. One night he got this idea of a road trip. You know, a mini road trip. To Porvoo. In vain I, ever the voice of reason, tried to protest: before settling on the destination one first needs to do research and check the recommendations for local restaurants and make reservations and take off before 10 o'clock in the evening. But he wouldn't have any of that. According to him "not everything needs to be about food all the time" (say whaaaat?). And apparently "we can always go back another time".
So, off we went. Destination Porvoo.
Dragging oneself out of the bed at 6.30 in the morning is even harder now as The Boy Next Door just rolls over and blissfully continues his
Sure, he too needs some rest. Though this holiday thing seems to be totally messing with his already challenged sense of time. One night he got this idea of a road trip. You know, a mini road trip. To Porvoo. In vain I, ever the voice of reason, tried to protest: before settling on the destination one first needs to do research and check the recommendations for local restaurants and make reservations and take off before 10 o'clock in the evening. But he wouldn't have any of that. According to him "not everything needs to be about food all the time" (say whaaaat?). And apparently "we can always go back another time".
So, off we went. Destination Porvoo.
Though Porvoo is only less than an hour's drive away, it had been a good decade since our respective previous visits. Disgraceful - it is such a ridiculously pretty little place. Every bit as picturesque as I remembered: cobble stoned streets lined with apple trees and rows of candy-coloured wooden houses and dainty little shops...
... and those restaurants, of course.
The kitchens had closed everywhere and I'm not sure I would have been able to pick just one - I've been hearing such good things about the restaurant scene there. There's Bistro Sinne, which I can't wait to try, especially having already sampled their chef's talent earlier this year. Then there's Sicapelle, which, according to some, might be even better! We sat down for pint of Belgium's finest at Gabriel 1763, which, too, seemed like a nice place.
As the evening turned to night my camera was struggling a bit. Our little love bubble, laced with "ooohs" and "aahs" burst too: turned out that they have youth in Porvoo, too. You know the type: (too) tiny skirts-sporting, hair extension-wearing, drunken and oh, so rowdy youth.
The restaurant boats along the river bank started to fill up as Saturday night fever raged. We ventured back to the quiet charm of The Old Town.
And what do you know: the only noise to break the balmy summer's evening was distant sound of saxophone - lingering from a garden party somewhere. Porvoo - what a treat. We'll be back. With those reservations.
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ANYONE FOR SECONDS?
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