We road-tripped back to Braga, where we had enough time to visit a few places up the hill, crumbling temples, pools and gardens, before we returned our rental. Then we walked Uli's way to school, past empty houses that are basically no houses anymore, just front walls. There are some pipes and wires and broken window panes or windows nailed shut, but that's about it. And right next to one of those rotten buildings, you'll find the nicest cleanest homes that look like they've just been built. The city center is a jewel once again, with mostly new and tiled buildings, gardens, a fountain and even a castle. Surprising also is the number of BMWs, VWs, and Mercedes cruising the streets-drug dealers, drug money, Uli says.
We go to Guimaraez to pick up a friend's car that we'll use to get me to the airport. Guimaraez is next door's university town, but somehow friendlier than Braga, with a shopping center and a movie theater and plenty of parties for comfort. Back in Uli's dark little cell, we vow to go back to those Portuguese beaches while they're still as nice as they are now, unspoiled and without disgusting high-rise buildings that unfortunately have begun to sprout along the coast line.
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