Cats! Cats! Cats! Cats! And sister Anne.
OK maybe that was an exaggeration. But do you remember that time when elves, men, dwarves, and hobbits all met in Rivendell? You Lord of the Rings enthusiasts know what I’m talking about. This trip to Porto had a passing similarity.
On a recent trip to Porto in Portugal I met up with my two sisters for a short and sweet sister’s hang in a foreign city.
The last time I was in Portugal was in 1978. We students were based in Sevilla, in Spain, and we nipped across to Lisbon to escape our (not very demanding) academic schedules to see a bit more of the world.
Looking over Porto. Still beautiful in the fog.
Spain was emerging after the death of Franco, two years previously, and the culture hadn’t quite shrugged off his heavy fascist hand. Our Spanish pals were still extremely wary of the guardia civil – who, to be fair, were a pretty vicious bunch – and this anxiety was expressed in the clothing styles of the youngsters, all plain black and maroon and dark blue.
In contrast, we arrived in Portugal to find a friendly and vibrant population dressed in bright colors and relishing a night out on the town. The Portugese were eight years off of their own overthrow of a dictatorship, and the sense of freedom and the delight of life unfettered was palpable. An example: as we tottered home from a fado concert late one night, we came across a young man putting up political posters. A policeman came up behind him. Oh no, I thought, we are about to witness some grim bullying. It turned out the policeman was there to guard the poster poster from anyone who might disagree with his political views. The cop was helping free speech. Wonderful.
Zoom forward to today in Porto, and we had a very pleasant time wandering the tiny cobbled streets that snake through the older buildings in the medieval center of town. The restaurant prices were not cheap but certainly not expensive. We sailed up and down the river admiring the bridges and house-covered hills, and visited their fine arts museum — one of those provincial museums that feature some excellent painters you’ve never heard of. Turns out not everyone is Goya or Leonardo or Monet.
A stunning portrait from the Fine Arts museum.
Portugal has been a poor country for a long time. The evidence is there to be seen, older houses that are falling into ruin and people living in tents behind ancient walls for all to see.
Developers could go in and revitalize the older buildings. Between you and me, they do look romantic and beautiful in their broken down states. But this is no good for someone who needs a home. I just hope they don’t flatten the beautiful old streets to put up expensive and ugly condos, like some countries I could mention.
I had a great time in Portugal in 1978. I had a great time in 2023 too. Lmc
The article is taken from Living & Painting in France, my monthly magazine newsletter from deep in the French countryside. Sign up below to subscribe. It’s free!