Porto, Portugal

Ev and I decided to make a one-day jaunt up to the coastal wine-making city of Porto yesterday (hence Port wine), three hours by train north of Lisbon. Although the forecast was for cloudy weather with showers, the rain (mostly) held off and we were treated to beautiful shafts of sunlight illuminating this remarkably textured old city. We certainly got our exercise in the 9 hours or so we spent walking up and down the hilly cobble-stoned streets, including an airy crossing of the Douro River to visit the venerable Ramos Pinto house of port. Following the obligatory tastings Ev decided she had a hankering for the fruitier white port—a bottle of which then accompanied our picnic dinner of fresh breads, local cheese, fruit, and pastries—a meal fit for a prince, though at a pauper’s price.

Images, from top: vernacular signage; a lovely old motorbike; ubiquitous illustrated Portuguese tiles; bridge over the river Douro; view across the river from in front of the port houses; period posters for the Ramos Pintos port brand; Ev in front of the Majestic Cafe and in the fresh market.