From Lisbon, we took a four-hour train north to Porto, Portugal's second city. It's known for its port, a sweet fortified wine that'll get you drunker faster than you can imagine. The city is cut in half by the Douro River that bisects the old town from the Port distilleries and their trade. A beautiful bridge, Ponte D. Luis, built by one of Gustave Eiffel's proteges connects the two sides of the river at both slightly above water level and again at a nauseatingly high vantage point. Porto's another city of hills.
After checking into our hotel, we made for a wander around the surrounding area. The old part of town, Ribeira, is home to an intricate maze of well-worn and tricky-on-the-feet cobbled streets that lead up, up, up to a series of local churches that are beautiful enough to be cathedrals. It's also the Portuguese starting point for the Camino de Santiago and signs for pilgrims pointed them in the direction of a journey spanning two countries, 1800 historical churches and, for some, the way to religious truth.
All roads eventually lead down to the riverfront where a series of bars dot the view. Unfortunately, we timed our arrival for a big international match between Porto and Bayern Munich and loud, drunk German football louts monopolised the drinking establishments. With their singing and germanic revelry, it was hard to find peace. But we did eventually find a place,
Wine Quay, a tiny wine bar on an upstairs terrace owned by a lovely Portuguese man who knew a thing or three about wine. We donned blankets and took to sitting on the terrace whilst we got slowly tipsy.
If you look closely a red awning adorns a building on the left side of this photo. That's Wine Quay:
In the older part of the city, historic buildings dot the landscape. Some of these buildings have been standing since the 1600s and like any old city, are now home to H&M, Zara and the like. Regardless, Porto had me charmed.
Lovely people, inexpensive but delicious food and gorgeous views were just icing on the cake.
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