Porto had always been high on our travel list, a city we were both eager to explore. I (Ben) had a fleeting experience with Portugal during my teenage years when my grandfather dragged me on a pilgrimage to Fatima. It was, as you might expect for a teen, a rather curious adventure—one filled with mystique but not quite the freedom I craved. That said, the pull to return to Portugal’s Atlantic coast never left me. There’s something about the Portuguese language and music that has always stirred something inside me—so melodic, so rich with emotion.
We arrived in Porto late afternoon, fresh off a flight from Barcelona. The moment we stepped off the airport bus, a cool breeze wrapped around us, a refreshing change from the humid warmth we’d left behind. It reminded me of Edinburgh in many ways—brisk winds, hills rolling towards the coast, and a certain coziness that came with the layers of stone buildings and worn cobblestone streets. Porto had an undeniable similarity to home, but with its own flair, making it both familiar and intriguing.
After dropping off our bags, we left our music-filled hostel to explore. Strolling downhill, we found ourselves pulled towards the water by the city’s vibrant energy. Every street was alive with tourists—so many that it felt like swimming through a sea of eager sightseers. By the time we reached the riverside, it was clear the city had rolled out the red carpet for us! Or so we liked to think. We spent the evening wandering through Porto’s winding streets, basking in the late summer sun and sipping on the city’s iconic port wine as we watched the river glisten.
The colors of Porto are what captivated us most. Everywhere we turned, the city was bathed in blue—deep, rich hues that seemed to reflect the very soul of the place. From the flags of Porto FC to the intricate azulejo tiles that dressed up building façades, the blues played against whites and golds in a way that brought every corner of the city to life. Walking through the Jewish Quarter, we caught snippets of history from a nearby tour guide, reminding us of Porto’s long and complex past.
That evening, we stumbled upon “Casa Viuva,” a modest-looking restaurant with a queue outside, always a good sign. Inside, we indulged in Peruvian-style chicken and orange cakes, washed down with more local wine. It was an absolute gem, the kind of place you wouldn’t think twice about but would immediately fall in love with. We left full, content, and with wallets that somehow hadn’t suffered from the indulgence.
The next day started a little slower, thanks to the abundance of wine from the night before. The heat reminded us that we might need to slow down our usual drinking pace while in southern Europe! But after a morning pastel de nata, we were revived and ready to continue exploring. We spent the day crossing Porto’s bridges, each offering more breathtaking views of the city and its rolling hills that dipped into the river below.
A spur of the moment decision had been made in Barcelona, where I (Ben) had decided I wished to go and see Porto FC play in their preseason games at the legendary Estadio De Dragao. It just so happened they were facing off against the Saudi Arabian side Al Nassr, the state backed billion dollar enterprise. One of Al Nassr’s many assets just so happens to be one Cristiano Ronaldo, one of the greats. To see the Portuguese Ronaldo play in Porto couldn’t be hastily passed up on, so we headed to the stadium in a rapturous crowd of blue and white. Whilst the game was not the finest piece of art (and Ronaldo did not play), we still enjoyed the vibrancy of the colours, the chants from the crowd and our half-time hot dogs. Football chants are an interesting facet of music, a modern day tip-off to traditional folk chants from oral cultures. They can be passed up as a simple loutish rubric of the game, but I prefer to think of them as a modern sight into folk traditions, many of these chants paying heed to old songs that have come before. The game finished 4-0 to Porto and we left the stadium in a sea of blue and white.
Our time in Porto was everything we had hoped for—friendly locals, beautiful streets, and a city full of life. As we headed to the airport the next morning, our taxi driver shared his love for the city, mirroring many of our own thoughts. Porto had been a bright, unforgettable chapter of our travels, and we both knew that it was a place we’d return to in a heartbeat. Luxembourg was next on the list, and we set off early.
our goal was to fill a sketchbook of our travels. we saved nice memories or details that we thought were most representative of us and our concept.
we arrived in brugge early after a chill ride along the canal from ghent and had lunch at the train station. we met bart slabbinck, the mobility expert in bruges. we cycled with him around the city and got to know it differently. we were surprised that the tourist attractions are limited and restricted to a small part of the inner town. it’s called the egg, because of its shape, which used to be the old fortifications.
the nice part of brugge is outside of the tourist triangle. it’s tranquil calm and authentic.
