A photo journal from Porto
Day trips to the beach, the perfect wine bar, and unexpected sunsets
Coffee, wine and beer are the reason I travel.
When in doubt - grab a coffee. Need a break from walking - stop for a beer. Want to kill sometime before dinner or before ending the night - enjoy a glass of wine somewhere.
My recent trip to Porto was no exception. While my reasons for going were for a work and not exactly for freelance travel and exploration, there is always time for both. Long story short, I had been working for a company called The Porto Protocol for some months, we called it an internship but at 30 years old with a master’s degree, and multiple internships under my belt already, I didn’t really need another one, however, this was an organization and industry I really wanted to be a part of. When the opportunity arose to go to Porto, work in the office, live in employee housing, I jumped at it.
A typical workday started at 10am, with a 30-minute commute a piedi. For the last few years I have grown to love walking to work in the morning; I get to watch the city come to life. Store owners unlocked doors, poured the extra mop water onto the sidewalk and put out boxes fruits and vegetables. One morning, a white van parked right on my path, the driver came around, opened its back doors exposeing multiple meat carcasses hanging from the ceiling. A man in a white coat came out from the butcher shop across the street, grabbed one of the hanging meats off the hooks, flung it over his shoulder and walked right back inside. In the moment I wished I had recorded it, the synchonized movements of the swinging meat, and the butcher taking it into his own hands were so mesmorizing.
The sunset we all deserve.
As a California native, I have an emotional attachment to sunsets. It was on my Porto Bucket List to sit and watch the sunset and on this particular day, the timing was perfect. I was heading home from my new favorite beer bar in the center of town. The metro I took home conveniently made a stop at one of the most picturesque spots in Porto (I’m sure you have seen it on every digital nomad’s Instagram feed). Young guys walked around with coolers of the aformentioned Super Bock beer selling cold cans for one euro a piece. There was an guitarist at the bottom of the hill, who played calm, peaceful acoustic versions of popular songs, (singing in English with an accent of course). I wondered if the buskers have a schedule for this coveted spot? Or is it first come, first serve? The guitarist asked the crowd if anyone wanted to come up and join in on a song with him. I squirmed, hesitant to go up there and sing, I have not sung in public since high school. I was indecisive for too long and one the beer slingers took the microphone and sang the best version of "Shallow” from A Star is Born. This sunset hit differently than the ones in California, this one was more deserved. You see, for the past six months, I had been working as a bartender at a newly opened restaurant in DC. I slept on a mattress on the floor of my brother’s apartment and hustled everyday between job applications, rejections, being on my feet for minimum of 8-10 hours a day. I worked 24 Sunday Brunch shifts in a row and now I was here, a world away in so many ways. I deserved this moment.
Searching for coffee and sourdough.
I spent my first Saturday walking around the city, with nowhere to be and all day to get there (as my mom would say). I stopped in front of this restaurant that had a peculiar message written on the window, “F**k brunch” it said. Also written on the window were 1-star reviews people had written about the restaurant. I was intrigued. I sat down at the bar and ordered a coffee, the barista, who I later learned was the owner, warned me that he took coffee very seriously and it probably wouldn’t taste like the average espresso I would get around the city. Translation: he cleans the machine and cares about the quality of the beans. It was bright and fruity, and the opposite of the dark roast (borderline burnt) coffee taste I was used to. I had a feeling this guy would also know a thing or two about specialty food around the city, and it just so happens that was in search of a good bakery. The cheap loaves from the grocery store bakery were good in a pinch, but I know too much about mass-produced food now. I prefer to spend decent money on quality sourdough bread. He and his business partner gave me a list of places to try.
Farmer’s markets always lead to pizza.
Back in Rome, my weekend routine included always included a farmer’s market trip on Saturday or Sunday morning. What can I say, old habits die hard. The farmer’s market, I grew to like the most was about a 45-minute commute from my apartment. Walk to the metro, 3 stops, change to the red line, take that for 10 stops, walk about 15 minutes and then you’re there. I really will go great lengths for quality food. Lucky for me, the market was inside of one of the largest and most beautiful parks in Porto. The vendors’ stands were even under a canopy of grape vines. One Saturday, I had a light load and I decided to take the long way home-through the park. Unbeknownst to me, the park’s exit opened onto to the beach. I walked along the pier and soaked up the bright, bright sun. The waves were loud, and the coastline was rocky, but this was the first time I had seen the Atlantic Ocean in person.
I opened my maps and saw that one of the aformentioned bakeries was nearby, about a mile walk (kilometer?) I still can’t figure out the metric system. The bakery actually ended up being a small stand inside an open air food market, which was apparently the place to be on this very Saturday. Everyone was congregated at the last stall in the market. There was a bar with multiple TVs showing the futbol match and a pizzeria with a line out the door. Mind you, I always hesitate from going anywhere with a line, but I was so far outside of the city, there is no way tourists have exploited this place yet. I kept it simple and ordered a Margherita pizza and a beer. The pizza was thin-crust, but like really thin. So thin that the only way to eat it (based on my observations of other people) was to roll up each slice like a taquito, the bite had the the consistency of a quesadilla. It sounds weird but it was exactly what I needed after my long walk. This very tasty meal was only 8 euro, beer included.
A wine museum? Sign me up.
The company I was working for is a small foundation owned by Taylor Fladgate, yes, the large Port wine consortium. Most of the Port houses are concentrated in one area called Gaia. Also in Gaia is a cultural center called World of Wine (WOW). There are museums, bars, restaurants, a VERY nice hotel and tasting facilities for Port. One Sunday, I decided to check out the museum. If anyone knows me, I often take myself on solo dates to museums, so a museum about wine had my name written all over it. At the risk of sounding like a travel “influencer” this museum was so cool. It was interactive, extremely informative and dare I say fun? I almost laughed out loud in one of the exhibits that displayed artwork depictions of grape varieties. The more entrenched in the world of wine I become the more I realize farming and agriculture are the most important and least talked about topic. It’s almost as though wine writers of the world are like the actors in Hollywood, and the farmer’s and viticulturalists are the writers. The wine writers (actors) get all the fame, fancy parties, and write about surface level topics “What are you wearing?” and “What are the tasting notes?” And the farmers (story writers) are the ones developing the story from the ground up. I liked seeing a visual representation of all the different soil types, opening my eyes to the wine world below the surface.
After the museum, I stumbled down the hill, literally almost falling down the steep steps. I was inspired to drink a glass of what I spent two hours reading about. In a perfect world, everyone would be making natural wine (not flawed wine) but wine made naturally. But until that day comes, mass-produced wine will still exist. The more I drink, travel and learn, the easier it is to recognize when a wine is not made with natural processes. When I was in my early 20’s I was easily influenced by the romance of being abroad, by supermarket wine that costs only 5 euro a bottle and the allure of it all. Now, I know better. But at this moment, I was hungry, and I wanted to sit outside and enjoy myself. I ordered a glass of rosé that cost 3 euro and a cheeseboard and people watched. If you saw this photo on Instagram without any context it would probably appear to be such a romantic, enjoyable experience (which it was to be fair), but the wine was cheap and it tasted cheap, but in that moment, it didn’t matter.
In every city I visit/live/stay, I make it my mission to find the perfect wine bar. In Porto, Sunday became my dedicated Wine Bar day. While I enjoy drinking natural wine, I dislike natural wine bars. They are often too trendy for the own good, they lack character (as they all appear the same, a similar criticism of natural wine itself) and they are overpriced. I understand the want to be avant garde and different, but some places go too far. Trust me, I’ve sought out A LOT of natural wine bars and have a pretty good sample size. Prova, in my opinion, did it right.
They serve natural wine that was also made from high-quality respected producers, and a lot of their options by the glass had some age to them. Many natural wines bars hyper focus on fresh and new and disregard old-school producers who have have been making wine with natural methods for decades. Just because the wine is not in a transparent glass bottle, with a funky label does not mean they are not natural. I write more about that phenomenon here.
The day stops for lunch.
The most important lesson I have learned throughout my travels throughout Europe; the day stops for lunch. At first, this made me angry. Not only were shops, bars and restaurants closed in between 3pm-7pm (especially the smaller towns in Spain), but as a solo traveler sitting down for lunch was not my style. But after a few years, I realized lunch might be the solution to all of America’s problems. While it’s common in the US to take a short lunch break, maybe a sandwich or salad, often eaten in a depressing breakroom or at a desk (no lost productivity time), in Spain, Italy, and Portugal (in my experiences) lunch is always a hot meal and reserved time to refuel and reset. This was the aftermath of a beautiful lunch we had after a wine producer visit in Coimbra, a small town outside of Porto.
The restaurant sat at a trucker’s stop, as most of the guests in the restaurant were men in construction clothes. Being vegetarian, I ate whatever the kitchen could offer me. Potatoes, rice, and the green dish (photo below) was a mix of beans, spinach (I think), pine nuts and olives. It was delicious. Lunches always end with coffee, very necessary after a glass of wine or two.
One sunny day when I first arrived in Porto, my boss and I went out for a meal in the center, at one of her favorite places. She said that asking for a menu was very American, and it’s typical at lunch to order the fish of the day, and not to worry, every meal comes with soup.
Wine, wine and more wine.
theLab Porto is a natural wine shop owned and run by Ryan Opaz, co-writer of the book Foot Troden which takes readers on a journey through Portuguese wine history and highlights the intersection between heritage traditions and innovative producers. theLAB often hosts long-form tastings with producers and educational workshops which give insight into Portuguese wine culture from every angle. I made a point to attend four classes during my time in Porto, each one was great, and the value far exceeded the $15 cost of the class. One class stuck out to me. It was led by the Chief Production Officer of Esporão, a very well-known Portuguese wine company. He spoke about the fact that even though they are a large operation, they practice organic farming, and utilize natural winemaking methods, but they do not label themselves as natural wine. It shows that even large operations can in fact practice organic farming and sell wine in the supermarket, making it accessible to all wine drinkers. Esporão also purchased the brewery Sovina which, during my time in Porto, was my go-to beer. And you all know that I am big on quality craft beer.
These are a few of many moments that made up my time in Porto. Not everything is shared on social media, or shared on here, because frankly, it’s my life and as I grow as a I writer, I realize how little privacy there is left in the world. Some moments are not for sharing, but for experiencing and learning from. Hopefully those lessons will be shared in the book I am able to write at a later date, but for now, I’ll keep on writing here.