Anyway, my purpose of this post is to tell you all about my first trip while in Spain. During the last weekend of October, I hopped on a plane with my friend Ariana to go to Porto, Portugal. It turned out to be an amazing first trip: beautiful, cheap, and very relaxing. Despite this idyllic description, we fondly describe the trip as “like boot camp, but with wine.” Why, you ask? Because there are too many hills in this charming costal city and we walked up and down just about all of them. And drank good wine.
From the airplane, we caught a glimpse of the beautiful countryside of Portugal: all rolling green hills, tree tops, and winding rivers. When we landed it was a bit cold and raining, but by the time we took the metro into the city center, the rain had stopped. As we emerged from the metro, we were greeted by the heart of old Porto. Needless to say, jaws dropped as the found ourselves in a large plaza lined with large stone buildings and trees along the street.
With our backpacks strapped on, we found a restaurant close to the hostel to grab lunch. We had our first fun encountered with the language barrier. There is a guy in our exchange program who knew some Portuguese and he made us a cheat sheet with some basic phrases, but we decided we could get by with our knowledge in Spanish and Catalán. We navigated the menu fairly well, recognizing dishes here and there, but we did not know how to say “chicken.” So, we asked the lady sitting at the table next to us. Or, rather, she started talking to us in Portuguese.
Fact: people in Porto are really, really nice. The lady started chatting away with us on a whim, her in Portuguese and us in Spanish, and we miraculously understood each other. When the lady asked if we were Spanish, Ariana and I looked at each other, shared a mischievous smile and responded that we were. We asked her how to say chicken in Portuguese and to make sure we all understood what we were talking about, she pantomimed a chicken. We all got a kick out of flapping our wings.
Anyway, our first meal was delicious: chicken, salad, fries, individual little bottles of table wine, and a delicious custard dessert (below), all for only 5 euros. What a steal!
After lunch, we went up to our hostel which has been the nicest hostel I’ve stayed at so far. It was right in the heart of the old city, had super comfy beds, a nice lounge, a good breakfast, clean facilities, and a charming rooftop terrace. The icing on the cake was that the hostel was movie themed—we got the Pulp Fiction room.
We dropped off our lunch, got maps and a basic run-down of things to see in the city, and decided to head down the Rio Duoro where it meets with the Atlantic Ocean. The rain had stopped and the sun came out, lighting up the main street in Porto gloriously.
We took a bus from the city to the coast and made our way back to the hostel from there. Along the way, we discovered why we saw very few bikes and motos in Porto: the roads are cobblestone, impossibly bumpy, and tend to be very hilly.
Along the coast, there were a number of tranquil parks. We took our time exploring these lush, green parks with grass and trees everywhere. I had grown so accustomed to the urban parks of Barcelona that I forgot the glories of a green lawn.
Also, there was a castle on the ocean (Castelo do Quiejo) where we understood why the Portuguese had ruled the sea for such a long time: the Atlantic Ocean is beastly!
It was extremely windy that day, which made utter messes out of Ariana’s and my curly hair. However, this could not wipe the smiles off our faces.
We admired the old houses along the coastline. These were prime plots of land, with direct views of the haunting, stormy Atlantic, yet some of these houses were crumbling apart. Ariana and I thought how if this happened in America, these houses would be snatched up, torn down, and replaced by some modern beach house. But in Porto, no one touches them.
At last, we made it to where the Rio Duoro reaches the Atlantic Ocean. There was an old fortress there and we walked around the perimeter, enjoying the ocean air. For a moment, I was reminded to Santa Barbara: that crisp ocean breeze, the feeling of salt on your skin, the rhythmic push and pull of the waves as they crashed against rocks…
We spent most of the afternoon walking around. Tired from our journey, we put on the movie Pulp Fiction in the hostel lounge until 9 pm (that’s dinner time in Portugal and Spain). On a Thursday night, Porto was quiet but we found a restaurant to gobble down some food after a long day of walking. That night, we slept very well and got ourselves up for what turned out to be our most adventure-packed and longest day in Porto.
Our first stop of the day was the most iconic building in Porto, the Torre dos Clérigos. While walking to the tower, we go our first taste of the Porto hills. We saw the tower from what seemed like a few blocks away and then realized that it actually was going to take another five or ten minutes walking because there were at least two great dips and rises in the road to get there.
In the tower, we climbed up 6 floors (or 225 steps or 76 meters of elevation) to make it to the top. The staircase grew more and more narrow during our ascent, but our reward—a spectacular, 360 view of the city—was breathtaking. All the pretty, colorful buildings speckled the town and the terracotta rooftops glowed in the morning sun. It was fall in Porto: below, the green leaves had faded into reds, yellows, and oranges and the fog on the river was beginning to burn off.
When we reluctantly climbed down the tower, we entered the church connected below, which was hidden behind a tapestry. Needless to say, we spent the rest of the day peeking behind tapestries, hoping to find other grand discoveries.
We exited the church and I decided to take a picture of the tower in all its glory. I was in a large, empty plaza and suddenly, I heard a car honk behind me. I moved out of the way, surprised because I had thought I was in a pedestrian zone, and suddenly, the car parked right in the middle of the plaza. The owner got out of their car and then walked ten steps to their flower shop. Ariana and I stood and stared, utterly confused. However, we learned that parking in Porto is a fairly ambiguous concept. We saw hidden little plazas completely filled with cars haphazardly parked. It looked that a real life game of Tetris.
After visiting the tower, we continued down to the river front. It didn’t look that far away on a map, but we were taking our time and decided to pick random roads that went downhill. I feel like this is the best way to really get a good taste of a city: just wander. Our plan was to enjoy the riverfront, then cross the river and go to a winery on the other side. It turned out to be quite the adventure making our way downhill. We were certainly off the beaten path that most tourists walk on, but it was worth it. We saw the bright yellow houses, sleepy, windy streets, and little old ladies taking a stroll—in general, the sights and views not spelled out in travel books.
The goldmine discovery (literally) was the Igreja Monumento de São Francisco and the catacombs. Outside, it seemed like an ordinary church, but when we went inside, we were blown away. I don’t know if there are words in the English, Spanish, or Portuguese languages that can do it justice. The entire interior was intricately carved and gilded with gold so that the whole place glittered. It was positively overwhelming but magnificent. I believe we spent at least a half hour in that one room, studying every panel and trying to decipher its meaning or just trying to take in the general splendor.
No cameras were allowed, so it was a different experience for me. I love having my camera around to take pictures to remember things, but sometimes a camera can be very distracting and looking at life through a lens hardly does it justice. Sometimes, it is best to put away the camera and just look.
The catacombs were certainly a change of pace from the church: there were dark tunnels, tombs lining the walls, and a large, common grave. Oh, so that was the funny smell…
Hours later, we finally made it down to the river. It was a really pretty day, with clear blue skies and a refreshing breeze. This area of Porto was probably the touristiest area, but it had noting on the constant crowds of Barcelona, which was certainly a nice change. All the little houses lining the banks were so colorful and fun.
To cross the river, we walked on the lower level of a bridge (Ponte Luís I). The view from the bridge was great because we could look up the river inland and down the river toward the Atlantic Ocean. At last, we had accomplished our goal of the day: make it to the other side of the river. Looking back, we were able to see the old Porto that we had been walking around all day… sort of reminds me what I would imagine Venice to be with all the narrow, colorful houses stacked upon each other.
After crossing the bridge, we entered the town of Vila Nova de Gaia. At this point, one of our most memorable Porto moments began. We had decided to go to a winery called Taylor’s because we could get a tour and a wine tasting for free, but it was a good mile walk uphill. What should have been a 20 minute walk turned into a nearly two hour hike, frantically asking directions from some very nice people. They all gave us the same directions too, which was a bit of a marvel. However, our pitfall was discovering there was some construction on one of the roads that we needed to turn on. So instead, we figured we could just go up one more street and then cut in and down. However, the road kept on going up and up and up. After finding ourselves near a school, we asked a man for directions and for the first time, we heard the word “downhill” in reference to Taylor’s. “No,” we thought, “this can’t be right.” But it was nearly two o’clock in the afternoon, we were tired, hungry, sick of hills, and I had to pee. We decided to follow the man’s instructions and my bladder, figuring that worst case scenario, we end up back at the riverfront where we could find food and a bathroom.
When we did find Taylor’s, I literally screamed in excitement. We walked inside and asked about bathrooms and a tour: as it turned out, the English tour had just left as we walked in and if we hustled, we could join in. A skip and a hop later, we found the group. The tour was absolutely worth having to hold my bladder for another half hour. Our guide talked about all the different kinds of port wine, how they are made, and how to drink it. Inside the winery, there were giant barrels of wine and our guide explained that residue builds up on the side of the barrels that must be chipped out; so, a worker has to climb into the barrel through a tiny hole, chip away, and then exit after a few minutes to get some fresh air because the air inside the barrel is rather toxic. I really enjoyed the tour and wish I could remember more, but we got a lovely brochure that had the basic information.
Fact: Porto wine is amazing. It’s sweet and positively a delight to drink—especially since our stomachs were pitifully empty at the time. We were served a red and a wine porto, and while both were good, we much preferred the red. After the tasting, we went to admire the gardens and harass (take pictures of) the peacocks.
After, we continued our walk downhill on the hunt for food. It was nearly 4 by the time we sat down to eat and feasted on the best pork chops I have ever eaten. As we shamelessly stuffed our faces, we saw a bunch of kids suspiciously dressed in what looked like Hogwarts uniforms. A waiter at the restaurant over informed a couple that these youths were university students. Ariana and I were certainly intrigued, but were too embarrassed to ask a thousand questions… however, it would not be the last we would see of these students.
Exhausted from our adventures, we decided to make our way home by walking across the upper part of the bridge. At the crossing on the Vila Nova de Gaia side of the bridge, there was a lovely building with a view of the river and city as well as pretty trees with autumn leaves. The view while walking across the bridge was equally beautiful and we noticed some interesting looking buildings from afar. Suddenly, we realized how much walking we had done that day: after all, that church we saw looming in the far distance was the Catedral do Porto, only about a 15 minute walk from our hostel. We peaked inside the church and decided to return another day to see the museum and other parts of the building when our feet were not threatening to disconnect themselves from our legs.
When we at last returned to the hostel, we continued our tradition of collapsing on the floor, quite unwilling to move. We ended up talking to our Belgium roommate (Neils) for the next 2 hours and 45 minutes about everything under the sun. We began with our adventures of the day and then proceeded to deeper topics: the Obama administration, universal health care, Bush, climate change, genocide, politics, civic duties… world problems. It was interesting to hear our roommate’s perspective what was really wowed me was that he said that Ariana and I had changed his perspective of Americans for the better.
What I have discovered in my travels is that the sights are always great, but sometimes it is the company that really makes a trip. Ariana and I got to know each other really well and hopefully we will be living together at UCSB next year. I was so interested in swapping ideas with Neils and we were able to hold a great conversation: just goes to show how much we can learn from each other.
That night, we went out to dinner with a Portuguese girl named Ana who Neils had arranged to meet through CouchSurfing. We had a Portuguese dish called “Francesinha,” which is a sandwich filled with different kinds and cuts of meat and cheese, and then topped with cheese and a slightly spicy sauce. It was delicious and super filling—Ana was surprised that Ariana and I cleaned our plates. But what can we say? We both like food! When I ordered dessert, they were out of the cake I had wanted and so instead the waiter brought me two different desserts for the price of the dessert I had wanted. So nice!
After that, Ana took us to a nifty bar with a great vibe and cool knickknacks that covered the wall of the building. I got a beer and Ariana and Neils got muscatel, a super sweet dessert wine in an itty bitty bottle that was almost too good to be true. Paired with a yummy apple cake, we were all in heaven. On our way to the next bar, Ana tried to explain that Portugese women were like wine. “Very good and not enough?” Neils guessed, thinking of his gulp-sized bottle of muscatel. We all nearly died of laughter.
The next bar we went to was entirely invaded by students. We learned from Ana that the Hogwarts uniforms were their university garb that they had to wear to each class: black shoes, black pants/skirt/tights, white shirt, black sweater, and a black cloak. It was Friday night and Porto had come alive. The quiet restaurant where Ariana and I ate dinner the night before was packed with students who had finished their classes and walked across the plaza to grab dinner or drinks. Tired from our adventures, we did not stay long and returned to the hostel.
The next morning, our feet were rather displeased with our walking from the day prior. We started our Saturday at the market (Mercado do Balhão), which was vibrant, filled with fresh flowers, produce, spices, meat, fish, and live poultry. It was crazy and adorable and overwhelming to the senses.
We decided to walk over to the Glass Palace (Palácio de Cristal) to explore the gardens surrounding it. True to our nature, we missed the exit and had to walk uphill to get to where we wanted to go. There was a Romantic Art Museum that we wanted to see so we meandered through the gardens, sitting down to rest our feet and admiring the view along the way. It was simply very peaceful. I had not realized how much I missed nature since being in Barcelona. We even made friends with a bevy of birds: peacocks, roosters, hens, ducks, chicken, geese, pigeons, and seagulls, all together in the same group.
By the time we found the museum (on the other side of the garden, naturally), we had completed a nearly full circle around the park and the museum was closed for siesta. Bummer. We gave up and decided to get lunch instead, where we slowly made our way through our meal since we were still full from the day before and tired of walking.
Right down the street from the restaurant was the Museu Nacional de Soares dos Reis. There were jewels, paintings, portraits, sculptures, plates, furniture… it was a richly endowed museum. It was nice, but I think we were too exhausted to really appreciate it. More often than once we found a bench in the museum and collapsed on it in order to properly observe a painting. On our way back to the hostel, we walked all the way up to the terrace to catch our last Porto sunset.
On Sunday, it was daylight savings time and we ended up waking up at 7:30 am instead of 9:30. We were confused and ate breakfast anyway, but when we figured out the time (and why we felt so damn tired), we promptly went back to bed for another hour and half. At 11 am, we packed up and checked out of the hostel. We tried to go to the Majestic Café, where J.K. Rowling wrote parts of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone while she was living in Porto. However, it was closed, so we got coffee at a little café and attended to the homework we had neglected. (Another Harry Potter nerd fact is that we entered the bookstore that was used as Flourish and Bott's in the movies... I definitely geeked out, but cameras weren't allowed. Boo.)
We were still stuffed from the day before and wanted to do a little more walking before lunch. However, when we left the café, we ran into the Hogwarts students…erm, University of Portugal students out and about with all the ickle first years…I mean, freshman, wearing embarrassing matching outfits. We did not know what to make of it at the time, but we would find out later.
We wandered through the side streets of Porto to have lunch down at the riverfront. On our way back, we discovered a church (Igreja dos Grilos) where there was a lovely view of the city on that foggy morning.
With a little extra time on our hands, we entered to Catedral do Porto to see the church relics and admire the solemn stone arches.
We were ready to take the metro to the airport, so we went back to the Avenida dos Aliados, the main drag through the old city, and were in for a surprise. As it turned out, the reason why all the freshman were dressed up so oddly was because they were getting hazed. Wearing the uniform was considered an honor and they all had to be hazed in order to receive that privilege. They were separated by department and had soda cans connected to them so they clanked with each step. The entire city was out to watch the spectacle and we lingered, excited to join in on the town’s festivity. This was our farewell to Porto, with the streets alive with youth and the sound of clanking soda cans.
Upon arriving home, I could not help but think that while I loved Barcelona like a husband, Porto was definitely my dashing weekend lover that almost stole my heart away.
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