The Faded Grandeur of Porto
I was thrilled about going to Portugal. Ed had his reservations, a whim I suspected came from traveling in northern Europe for too long. I, on the other hand, was eager to escape from the cold of the north and venture down into the Iberian Peninsula, back to my Latin roots. And what was best, the weather forecast announced much to our glee warm weather and sun, sun, sun.
When we touched down in Porto, the northernmost city in Portugal and the second largest in the country, there was a thick mantle of fog which reminded us more of London mornings. We checked into our newly inaugurated hostel, the B&W Porto Hostel whose 19th century family-house-turned-into-a-stylish-hip-hostel accommodated us for 17€ per person including a light breakfast. The small size of the kitchen, lack of a lounge and the presence of only one bathroom for the entire hostel was made up for by the witty, fashionable black and white design of the interiors which made our stay memorable.
Somehow we had to find our way to the centre of the city, and the challenge was to avoid the incredibly new and modern metro system that Porto took pride in. I always say that there is nothing better than witnessing how a city wakes up on a weekend. So as the white haze melted away by an eager sun, people began to emerge from their doors, congregating in the near by confiterias, the Portuguese equivalent to patisserie's.
Armed with a map and Ed’s new Canon digital SLR (a birthday present from yours truly) we made our way downhill through the residential streets of Porto. The buildings were run down, as if they had stopped in time, but there was a colonial charm to them that kept them very much alive; they still had character in their old age and with all their broken bits.
We soon bumped into the Igreja do Carmo (do Carmo church) whose side façade was made up entirely of exquisite hand painted blue and white ceramics, better known as azulejos. The tiles are depicting scenes from the founding of the Carmelite order, an enclosed monastic order founded in the 12th century on Mount Carmel in Israel. Oddly enough, we soon noticed that the church was immediately annexed to another church, the Igreja das Caramelitas belonging to the same order of Carmelites but for nuns. Apparently this was done to ensure that chastity rules were adhered to between the monks and nuns, separating them in two buildings. I’d heard that Portugal had too many churches, but this two-in-one arrangement was unheard of, and mass was being held simultaneously in each!
 Moving on we saw an old wooden streetcar. We suspected it wasn’t in working order since it was stopped next to a park, but we soon saw that people were readily jumping on it as it took off powered by the old network of cables that ran above it. Yet another example of Porto’s vintage style.
Soon we found ourselves lost within the tiny downhill streets as we got closer to the River Douro. The old cobblestone streets were hardly wide enough for cars to go through and we had to skip our way along, avoiding the little gifts left behind by local dogs. People peered out from their small wrought iron balconies garlanded by the morning’s washing swaying in the river breeze while the smell of coffee and garbage mixed in the air. continue...
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