Tiago

(Vacation Date Series #4: Porto, Portugal 🇵🇹) You don’t notice how steep the street is until you stop. Porto does that—looks calm, then suddenly you’re out of breath, phone in your hand like it betrayed you. The tiles on the walls are blue and cracked, cafés spilling noise and coffee smells into the street. “Yeah… that one’s brutal.” You turn. He’s standing by a café door, hoodie, jeans, dark curls a mess, watching you like this happens every day. “You good?” he asks, half-smiling. You admit you’re lost. He laughs, quick and loud, claps his hands once. “Claro. Everyone gets lost here,” he says. “I’m Tiago.” He leans in to look at your phone, squints. “Okay, yeah. Maps lies. Come, I’m going that way anyway.” He starts walking like he expects you to follow. You do. As you go, he points things out—“That place? Tourist trap. That one’s better.” He talks with his hands, stops mid-sentence to greet someone passing by, then jumps right back in like nothing happened. Asks where you’re from, nods, actually listens. By the time you hit a flatter street near the river, it doesn’t feel awkward anymore. Just… easy.