Hello from Porto--a magnificent city on the northern coast of Portugal. The setting of this city is where the Rio Douro meets the Atlantic Ocean. Let me tell you how we got to this lovely haven. We left Caldas (Obidos) and headed toward the city of Coimbra. Rick Steves thinks it is his favorite city in Portugal--Rick and I don't agree on much. His recommendations for lodging and restaurants always fall short of my expectations. Before we left Caldas we checked the weather report: more rain, more cold weather--we could have saved all our money and stayed in Portland for that! We decided to take smaller roads and meander along the coast before heading back into the city. Every so often you encounter a young woman, dressed provocatively, along the side of the road. Usually she is texting or talking on a cell phone. At first I thought, hmmmm, these women must be waiting for a bus or a ride. (How naive!) I know it seems obvious to all of you--but listen--these women are on country roads with no car in sight--in the middle of nowhere! No village nearby--nada! I did a little internet research and found out the facts. I'll tell you some other time--but suffice to say, yes, they are prostitutes.
We visited a number of historical sites and cathedrals and spent the night in Batalha where the Great Cathedral holds most of the kings and queens of Portugal, including Henry the Navigator.
As we drove, the sun came out and the skies turned blue with huge puffy clouds. The coastal village of Mira was stunningly beautiful and we found, like others in Portugal, that the beach was pristine and rarely occupied. We found a few fisherman hauling in lines and nets. We drove through a number of seaside villages with small dwellings and vegetable gardens. Every few hundred feet stood a man or woman selling potatoes.
Coimbra had been noisy and very dirty and run down in the old city. It took us nearly an hour to park our very small car into a very small space inside a very small underground garage. I was shouting directions. The side mirrors of the car were pulled in. The car was stalling. Crap. Divorce was imminent.
The university at the top of the hill with spectacular views was a highlight. In all of the major cities of Portugal graduates move in large groups. They are all dressed the same: women in white blouses, black skirts, black stockings, black shoes and black wool capes. Men wear black suits with white shirts and long black wool capes. The only other adornment is a sash with patches of color which denote areas of study and honors. They sing and shout and perform in the streets--it's absolutely delightful--until 3AM outside of your hotel window.
Coimbra sits along a large meandering river and in the late afternoon we walked along the banks and across a pedestrian bridge. This was the first time that we saw joggers, bikers and rowers. The sun was beginning to set and young athletes were putting in sculls and shells. Race lanes had been set up in the river for the next day's competition. We thought of Micah and the many times we watched him race in similar circumstances. The city itself and the accommodations were grim--but seeing these young people enjoying life lifted our spirits.
After Coimbra, Mira, and a number of villages we drove into Porto full of anticipation and a little dread--a number of tour books mentioned the challenges of driving in Porto. This is where GPS has your back! As you enter the city (by way of any number of high bridges spanning the Rio Douro) the city reveals itself little by little. The bridges converge on one serpentine two lane road that hugs the river and the land rises vertically. Because of the steep hills the bridges are imposingly high. You are suddenly swept into the narrow cobbled roads that rise sharply. We are staying in the heart of the old city and finding it was an adventure. In these circumstances, if you miss a crucial turn you're screwed. That happened to us a few times. We thankfully found the place and pulled onto the sidewalk--in Portugal or Spain this means a narrow stony path meant for one person. I was confused, as our reservations indicated ample parking. At reception we were instructed to back the car up and the glass lobby doors would open. We were to drive into the lobby onto a platform--a lift that took the car down to an inner courtyard. What a lovely setting--and a total surprise. We were given an apartment--two levels--like a small condo with kitchen and a garden view (and also a view of the cathedral). Green space is rare in Portugal or Spain an this is a true haven from the madness of city life. Porto is a combination of San Francisco, Venice and Madrid. It is magical! The air and hills are like SF. The ancient buildings with weeping windows, red tiled roofs, and faded watery colors meet the water's edge and from there wind up into a maze of narrow passage ways that remind me of Venice. They then open onto large plazas and boulevards with monuments and fountains and parks reminiscent of Madrid.
Despite the weather reports the sun shone and after knocking down the glass of port offered at reception we hopped onto an open bus and toured the city for 2 hours. We then took a memorable boat trip up and down the Rio Douro. We oooed and ahhhed. Porto is (surprise) known for port wine. The grapes are grown east of here in the Douro Valley and once processed and put in barrels they are carried by boat to the caves here. The caves are located across the river in Gaia. Wine cellars abound--all with terra cotta tile roofs that stretch for miles.
This has been a fabulous place to celebrate Joel's birthday. Porto beat Lisbon and the city erupted in celebration. Graduates and their families roam all the streets with such pride. It was recommended that we too should celebrate the way the locals do--with "francesinhas". A culinary heart attack on a plate. We thought long and hard before doing this and finally agreed to split one. Here's the photo--then I'll describe.
Lovers of poutine will go nuts. We will probably not eat meat for years. First they grill a thin slice of beef or pork, and then fresh sausage, and then linguica sausage, and then ham, and then a slice of bacon. After it is all grilled, they put the whole mess onto a thick slice of bread with a layer of cheese. It is topped with bread and put into a panini toaster until good and crisp. Removed and while warm another piece of cheese is placed over the entire stack. (At this point, some people like a fried egg on top.) Then the whole thing gets a ladleful of magic sauce--a hot gravy made with beer and port and other magic things. We're all about trying local food and wine whenever we travel, but this will not be repeated. The meat gets delivered like this.
On the way to the cafe we encountered this woman coming back from the street market with an orange tree. I imagine she'll get it home, pot it and place it on her narrow balcony along with her laundry. Without a car, this is how she transported her little tree.
Porto ranks right up there with favorite cities. We had such mixed feelings about Portugal until coming here. I would return here in a heartbeat--it's a special place. Forget Lisbon, come to Porto!
I'm going to try to post photos. We took so many here. Much love, L
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