The funny thing about international travel is how much actually seems familiar, for a moment or two. Always, an initial sense of deja vu. Life goes on, everywhere.
Riding in the taxi as the city wakes, we see what you’d expect. Mamas walking children to school. Shopkeepers opening up. Fender benders. Delivery vehicles. People striding to work. Friends chatting, laughing, lingering over coffee.
But quickly we appreciate how far we’ve traveled overnight. Porto is one of oldest cities in Europe, pre-dating Rome. It’s beautiful, too. Around every corner, another great photo op with majestic architecture and gorgeous, glazed tile in view. Every meal is an adventure; every plaza a pop-up market, tempting my resolve!
On the won’t-find-this-at-home front, early one morning we observed first-year students in University initiation. Newbies in red shirts chanted, bowed and responded in unison; second-years strode to and fro across the plaza in tell-tale black cape and garb — think J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter, or roosters on the roost. It was quite a lark as latecomers scurried across the plaza to sneak into formation.
We haven’t started trekking, but began walking immediately. At first, just to push through jet lag. Our guide, Magda, met us at the hotel within the hour.
From those first steps, Porto felt vaguely familiar, someone we know, sort of. We recognized prominent landmarks but foggy brains struggled to connect the dots. We stumbled with the most basic Portuguese.
I chose Magda’s walking tour mostly for insider perspective of the São Bento Train Station and Porto Cathedral — historic works of art and architecture we’d skimmed on our initial visit.
Catedral do Porto (below) is where the Camino officially starts — if you start in Porto. It sits inside the original old city wall. High on the hill, it dominates the cityscape. Magda guided us through this gilded house of worship, the chapels and cloister, and to the pilgrim visitor center tucked in behind.
Once or twice each day of trekking, we’re required to have our Pilgrim Credencials stamped. We’ll return in a few days to get our first stamp here. When we reach Santiago, the proper sequence of stamps authenticates issuance of Pilgrim Compostelas.
At St. Benedict Train Station (below), tiled murals artfully display history. We greatly admired the work of the man who painted each of the more than 20,000 tiles. Circumnavigating the room, blue and white tiled (azulejos) panels tell stories of military conquests and local working-class life; colored tiled friezes at top convey the development of regional transportation up to the arrival of the train.
The old city is becoming more familiar by the hour. After three solid nights’ sleep and as many full days on our feet, Porto is moving from casual acquaintance into the friend zone. Colorful and cheerful; welcoming and warm; serving up a delectable selections morning to night. What more could you want in a friend?
Around the corner from our hotel, we’ve found a humble little cafe with the very best pastel de nata. (We’ve made it a point to sample this deliciousness everywhere we go.) We can navigate down to the Douro riverfront, up to the Cathedral, to shop Santa Catarina, or the grocery, or Mercado Bolhao without a map.
One day, we trek-trained along an alternate Camino route, leaving the old city by way of the Duoro River. We walked nearly as far as the sea. On return, we pit-stopped at the Tram Restaurante. Ironically, it doesn’t get great reviews but may serve the simplest and most exquisite bruschetta in the world. Or maybe we were just famished? This I know: I will try replicate at home!
Another day, we ventured further afield on a Douro River Valley tour. By boat, train, and van, we experienced wild and spectacular! But that, my friend, is a story for another day.
Meanwhile, hold hope. Keep faith. Walk your walk.
~ Sincerely, Sondra
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