After careful consideration (and much deliberation mulled over countless glasses of port wine and slices of chocolate cake), I have hereby decided that Porto is where I belong. Everything from the food illuminated within restaurant windows to the crumbling porcelain tile-covered walls lining each charming side street, aligns perfectly with my internalized vision of the perfect city.
Since this is Olivia and I's first stay in our own apartment versus a shared hostel dorm––it's also possible that some bias may be at play here due to uninterrupted rest and a private bathroom, but still.
I thought Lisbon was artsy, but this little northern former fishing village is truly a hub for traditional and new-age galleries alike. It's a place where bookworms find solace in a cozy corner of one of the many tea houses; artists seek drawing nooks in the sun before ornate architectural subjects; historians stroll through ruins and museum exhibits detailing Portuguese discovery; foodies devour fresh cod cakes and cheese encrusted sandwiches; wine-o's down miniature glass after miniature glass of tawny, ruby, white, and rosé port tastings; and finally of course, it's a place where the average curious traveler such as myself finds themselves exploring the countless viewpoints and cultural exchanges Porto has to offer.
Before I begin to sell you the idea that Porto is an undiscovered gem recently stumbled upon by foreign tourists, I'll confess that it isn't. There are still the obvious aspects of a European vacation destination that one cannot ignore: restaurant hagglers eager to "offer a delicious and authentic meal" at their "fine establishment"s, sunset cruises with complimentary watered down cocktails, and souvenir vendors selling "handmade" trinkets that suspiciously resemble the ones sold in a similar tent across the street. In a way, I actually find some facets of the chuegy reality which is the main strip of nearly every European city at this point, sort of comforting. I recognize that tourism is a very real and vital portion of Europe's economy and I appreciate the ability to opt in (but more often opt out) of the touristy sections of town via drifting down a few back streets and alleyways to find the real deals. And that's arguably how it should be. You should have to work to find the mom and pop shops and cheap authentic eateries. How would one define what is local and genuine without the presence of the overpriced touristy stuff to differentiate it from anyway?
Plus, admittedly or not, eventually we do all long for the expected American-in-a-foreign-country experience. Sometimes we need to sit at the rooftop bar on the water at sunset for an eight-dollar aperol spritz and a solid Instagram story update. It's not everyday we find the cash-only hole-in-the-wall dive bar with a jolly bartender who downs a round of free ginjiha shots with you. And that's okay. I think as long as you don't make a habit of the touristy scenes or exclusively associate a country with them––no harm, no foul.
But enough of Porto's holiday visitor scene, let's get into the heart of the city, starting with my favorite topic: food and drink!
Judging by its name, you've probably put two and two together at this point to determine that Porto gets its notoriety for the sweet dessert wine that you either love or hate known as port. What you might not know however, is that port wine is actually not made in Porto at all. The actual fruit processing and... grape crushing? (I don't know, as you can see I'm quite informed on the wine-making process) business happens in the Douro Valley region a few hours east of the coastal city. Since the weather is ideal only part of the year when the grapes are ripened, Douro is perfect for temporary growing, but due to volatile climate that comes from changing seasons inland, Douro is not so great for storing wine––queue Porto!
As a seaside town with relatively temperate weather (not to mention a perfect location for transporting goods), Porto became an optimal spot for aging the wine in barrels and bottles before shipping them off to share with the rest off the globe. I say barrels and bottles because that's actually what separates a tawny port wine from a ruby port wine. While both are fortified with brandy, tawnies are usually a more syrupy-brown color due to being aged upwards of ten years in a barrel. Rubies on the other hand are typically aged for less time in their individual bottles and have that well-known deep red hue. And then most surprising to me, there's a white port which resembles white wine and is meant to be served as an aperitif, or pre-dinner beverage. Although they all pair well with sweets, a ruby port usually goes better with richer desserts such as chocolate or cake, while a tawny better compliments a more custardy treat such as creme brûlée or a pastel de nata.
As you can guess, Olivia and I have tasted our fair share of port wine during our stay, and I think I can conclude through several hazy tastings that I'm partial to a classic ruby (preferably alongside a truffle or two).
Foodwise, Porto is unsurprisingly known for seafood and tapas staples mirrored by Lisbon and much of Spain, but their true claim to fame is an indulgent sandwich with a French twist. The Francesinha is basically Portugal's take on a croque madame. It's traditionally made with a combination of tons of meat: ham, sausage, steak, and cheese sandwiched between two pieces of thick white bread, topped with more melted cheese, a fried egg, and smothered in a gravy-like sauce. Oh and naturally, it's surrounded by french fries drowning in said gravy sauce. Is it a heart attack waiting to happen? Most definitely. But is it delicious? So I've been told. I didn't actually try one myself, but they did seem to be advertised just about everywhere.
While I wouldn't recommend making the francesinha a regular addition to one's diet in Porto, I do suggest giving it at least one try––and letting me know how it is! There are loads of variations on the dish with some cafés even offering half portions and vegetarian versions. Hurray for Olivia, enjoy your gravy-soaked tofu grilled cheese, girlboss!
Some cuisine that I can vouch for is Porto's finest pastel de bacalhou, or a codfish cake. They might resemble eggs, but these little fried pouches of potatoey-seafoody-cheesy goodness are meals in and of themselves. I highly suggest getting one "with quiejo" which signs you up for a mouthful of warm gooey cheese in the middle.
Another weird––well maybe not weird but unexpected nonetheless––food staple that Porto excels at is a good ol' chocolate cake. It's not your classic three-layered, airy slice with loads of buttercream frosting and a lit birthday candle on top, but it is my kryptonite and yes I have eaten it almost everyday. Porto's take on the world-renowned dessert is more akin to a flourless tart or rich brownie than a cake, but man is it incredible. Some are covered in a caramel condensed milk sauce, but others are 10/10 just on their own. It's the perfect mid-afternoon snack to go with a caffeine pick-me-up and in my experience you really can't go wrong with ordering one from literally any coffee shop, bakery, restaurant, or... antique store? That's right, one of the best chocolate cakes I tried in Porto was actually served in a vintage flea market that doubles as a restaurant.
Now there is more to Porto than sweet spirits, rich desserts, and indulgent lunches. Porto has a rich religious history (yay my favorite!) but in all seriousness the city does hold some of the most impressive monasteries, churches, and convents I've ever seen. While the artwork may not be my cup of tea (I've seen too many "Virgin and Child"paintings and gory sculptures of Jesus being crucified to count at this point), the structures themselves and the views they offer from atop their bell towers are pretty insane.
Luckily for me, our AirBnB is located in the Cedofeita neighborhood which is notorious for contemporary art galleries and hipster coffee shops galore. It's nice to see modern social touches juxtaposing the quintessential cobblestone streets they inhabit. Some of the cafés in this area even have oat milk and avocado toast! It's like watching a city five years ago suddenly have a non-dairy/veganism enlightenment. The creative vibes of the area have actually motivated me to get back into drawing myself! I've steadily been doing about a sketch per day, mostly buildings, and only in pen, but it's a small daily task that renews a bit of purpose and inspiration in me. Not to mention it's a free activity that fills up downtime when necessary. Can't always buy a coffee and a pastry when I'm bored.
Olivia and I have only gone out for after-dinner drinks a few times here which I think is a testament to nightlife in Porto. I'm not saying it doesn't exist, but it's a bit harder to nail down. You can't exactly stumble upon a night club as ones does in Madrid or Barcelona. The one night we did decide to bar hop led us to a busy, no-frills place a couple blocks away. The bar, called Aduelo, was packed with locals and good music, which was consistent with the Google reviews (which I of course scoured in advance). We tossed back a few sangrias and porto tonicos for a couple euros each before bidding the bar farewell with a shot for courage as we walked to the next place. The next spot was much more posh than the last with pricier cocktails and an overall more sophisticated crowd. I cowardly went for a Heineken (the cheapest option) while Olivia splurged for an espresso martini which she has since declared the "adult Fourloko."
Our final stop was a pub just a few doors down which I can't for the life of me remember the name of. The interior walls were plastered in colorful "Free Britney" posters and eclectic streamers which right off the bat gave the place a good vibe. The cash-only bar served little else aside from beer, hot dogs, and mixed rum drinks, which in my opinion is all you need to have a good time (in that order too). After grabbing a couple beers, we headed upstairs toward the music to find two live DJs playing none other than 60s country and pop surf music. We're talking everything from Beach Boys to Roy Orbison. And the Portuguese folks loved it! I couldn't do much other than laugh at the young couples full blown vibing on the dance floor to bad Tom Petty songs that they naturally didn't know the words to. It wasn't long before a couple of Porto's finest gentlemen cornered Olivia and I and kissed our hands in an attempt to convince us to dance.
That's a whole other thing worthy of mention too: the pure brashness of European men. I'm not sure whether I love it or hate it, but there's something to be said for the straight forward nature of their flirting style. Whether it's at a bar, a nightclub, a park bench, or literally just walking down the street, you could practically get a proposal by the end of a conversation if you play your cards right. On the other hand, these guys are heavily persistent and have a tough time accepting the fact that you just might not be interested. But as I like to think, a bold approach constitutes a bold acceptance or refusal, so you never have to feel bad turning anybody down around here. Plus it's an intriguing break from the American custom of head games, gaslighting, and the emphasis on casual (yet often toxic) situationships.
Anyways eventually we did escape from the clasps of Mr. Tryhard #1 and #2 and headed home for a late night grilled cheese and Selling Sunsets Season 3––pretty wild night all in all. In fact that's pretty much how most of our nights have ended up in Porto, and I am not complaining about it. It's amazing how much your world opens up when you regain access to a kitchen and a private bathroom, a TV, and my personal favorite, space heaters. So I don't feel so bad about not having the wildest drunken nights here in Porto. Catching up on sleep and personal space is exactly what the doctor (and wallet) ordered.
As we tested negatively for covid today (these booster shots really seem to be pulling through after all), Olivia and I are headed to Munich, Germany tomorrow for the holidays. We'll be staying with Tom (a former exchange student of my parents) and Roswitha (his mother) which is about as close as we can get to immediate family around the holidays in Europe. Feeling once again quite blessed and lucky to continue this journey safely. Wishing you all an equally warm, comforting, and safe few weeks as we navigate such a joyous season amidst this never-ending pandemic and its ceaseless peaks and valleys of variants and case-spikes.
Comentarios