Flight was fine, landing was fine, and got to the hotel easily. Porto is a beautiful city. The people are very welcoming, friendly, and a little bit mad. I've been drinking lots of Super Bock (the local beer) and eating plenty. I was hoping to put off the meat and cheese sandwich for one day, just to build up my strength, but somehow we ended up all eating it tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, the Fantasandwich:
Yes. Yes indeed. Clickyclicky for biggybiggy, but only if you are prepared for the might of it. Can't remember the real name of it, but that's what it's now called. Every kind of meat inside - chicken, bacon, beef, sausage, and more - in a double decker toasted sandwich, with melted cheese. And quite feisty chili sauce all over it. There's prawns in it too, for some reason. It's really, really nice. But it's like having 27 meals at once.
The Severance screening went great, the audience got all the jokes I was worried about, and a few besides, and generally loved it. Half the time they were laughing before the dialogue happened, because the subtitles were on screen, so it must have been a good translation. Afterwards, several people came up and told me how much they enjoyed it, which was really cool. I did a short intro, in which I had no idea what to say, so rambled on for a few minutes, but was apparently funny - Mike from eatmybrains.com recorded it on his camera, so I might post it here if I was okay. I got laughs, so that's a success in my book.
After that, we went to MovieTown - a huge tent set up in the square outside the cinema, where they were showing the Oscars and giving us free beer. We'd gathered together a posse by this stage, so about 6 of us took over a corner, jeering the losers, loudly applauding the winners that we liked (yay for Pan's! yay for Marty! yay for Forest! yay for Morricone! big yay for Ellen making really funny jokes and being lovely!), and generally being drunken lunatics. There was much booing and shouting (led by me) when Celine fucking Dion somehow made the tribute to Ennio Morricone into a big "look at me I'm Celine Dion" moment, which was pretty fucking shameful (even more shameful that the man hasn't been given an Oscar for every single score he's done, but hey, that's another blog post). And plenty of cheering for Thelma Schoonmaker, editor extraordinaire. Around 5ish we staggered back to our hotels, supposedly to meet up at 9.30am for a tour of some port cellars (which, as I write this at midday the next day, none of us managed to get up for). Oh, we all had a bet thing going on, with a sheet where you make your predictions, and the winner scoops the pot - and I won! Joint first with one of the festival organisers, we both got the most correct. So I won the tidy sum of 8 Euros, and the satisfaction of being outrageously smug.
I'm supposed to have a press conference tomorrow, but apparently it's like a relaxed Q+A, so hopefully the assembled people will be kind to my hangover...