A quick 32 hours in Porto

While tourists flock to Lisbon and Portugal’s beachy Algarve, a magical city lies four to five hours north in the Douro Valley. On a recent trip to Porto to celebrate my mother’s birthday we discovered the city’s charm on city streets, the sea and above it all from Porto’s best overlooks. 

We arrived on a humid Sunday afternoon and quickly found ourselves dragging luggage up sloping cobblestone streets to our Airbnb (a situation we found ourselves in many times in Portugal). Hungry, sweaty and achy from the climb, we wasted no time and headed out for the day to explore the city, and curb our encroaching hanger.

After wandering through the city streets, we found that Porto is not only home to many active street musicians, (we heard multiple renditions of “Pretty Woman” within the span of 10 minutes), but it’s also known as “the city of bridges.” And down by the Douro River, which spills into the Atlantic Ocean, it was easy to see why. From the waterfront, three to four bridges were visible.

The Ponte Dom Luís bridge. What looks like a pedestrian bridge is actually for cars on the lower level and trams up top. (photo: Lauren Mulvey)

We decided to cross the nearest bridge, the Ponte Dom Luís, a towering metal bridge painted a light blue. We crossed over the lower level amongst crowds of tourists and families. Children in swimsuits were climbing over the edge to jump into the water below. As we approached the other side of the city, a growing sound of metal music drew our attention. What we discovered was more street music, this time a band was playing in a small overlook area next to the bridge. The music sounded familiar and soon became a very very metal rendition of Rage Against the Machine’s “Killing in the Name.” A large crowd had gathered around four young musicians spinning their guitars around their necks and doing split jumps in the air while playing the most wicked chords in perfect time. Everyone was smiling and head banging, even the children.

Continuing along down the waterfront, we came upon booths promoting boat tours, and decided to hop on the next tour. The hour-long tour took us up and down the river to see all the six bridges along the Douro, some were modern and sleek and others old and rickety, but each very close to the next. One city couldn’t possibly need that many bridges, but I guess in Porto they did.

Stumbling shaky legged from the boat, sunset hour was approaching. We looked up the hill to a lookout spot where people seemed to be waiting for sundown. We wagered whether or not we had enough energy to climb the steep slope. We went for it, and took breaks every few minutes to catch our breaths. Once we reached the top, we came upon a big patch of grass where hundreds of young people and tourists were sitting around a DJ – all looking out at the sky. 

Thirsty from our climb we grabbed a water bottle and a bag of popcorn from a street vendor and climbed a few minutes further to a cathedral at the very top of the hill. As we reached the top, the cathedral glowed yellow from the sun beginning to set. 

We walked back across the Ponte Dom Luís on the upper level and could see the sky turn from a pale blue to a deep reddish orange, just our stomachs began to growl with hunger. I had a craving for tacos so we ending our evening with cheap (but delicious) tacos at Don Pepe, 1.50 for the tastiest mole, guacamole, and perfectly tender meat on homemade tortillas. Though they hit the spot, Porto is definitely not famous for tacos, but rather a decadent sandwich called “Francesinha” which my mother and I saw several times walking past restaurants with outdoor seating. It was some ungodly-looking combination of sausage, ham, steak, bologna, cheese and eggs, on a bed of french fries. We chickened out of trying it but at least on this particular evening we collapsed into our Airbnb pillows happy with full bellies.

The view of Porto from Oca Flores Boutique Hotel. (photo: Lauren Mulvey)

The next morning we slept in and got a buffet breakfast on the rooftop of the Oca Flores Boutique Hotel with views of the city. Over cured meats, eggs and sweet pastries we discussed our plans for the day and decided to continue exploring the city by foot and Uber. 

Just down the street from our Airbnb was the Sao Bento train station. Porto’s old main railway station that is famous for its artistic tiled walls, painted in china blue. Images tell the stories of Portugal’s history through war and daily life. The station still carts passengers to and from destinations all over Portugal and Europe today and inside you can find both tour groups with their eyes up at the ceiling wearing headphones, and Portuguese locals commuting by train work or coming back from a weekend away.

Emerging from the station we scaled more steep hills to the Sé Cathedral and the old narrow uneven streets of the historic city center. Afterward we Ubered to the Jardins do Palácio de Cristal. The garden offered aerial views of the city and Douro River, rows of well-groomed shrubbery and florals and a strangely large amount of roosters, swans and peacocks walking around at leisure. 

After a few hours' rest at the Airbnb, we headed back to the bridge for another beautiful sunset, which again turned the city a romantic pale pink orangey color. 


We ended our evening in Portuguese tradition with a Fado show. Similar to Spain’s Flamenco tradition, Fado is a style of operatic music that has existed for hundreds of years in Portugal. Our show was at
Casa da Guitarra just by the bridge. Two singers with incredible vocal ability sang with a three-piece string band for an hour. At intermission where we sampled complementary port wine, which was almost too sweet for our liking, but we tipped our glasses back for our last moments in Porto.

Porto glows orange after the sun sinks behind the city. (photo: Lauren Mulvey)

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