Showing posts with label Douro River. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Douro River. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 17, 2023

Bottom to Top in Porto Redux

The bougainvillea looked familiar as I walked through a beautiful neighborhood en route to the mouth of the Douro River where Portuguese explorers returned from their explorations in sailing vessels half a millennium ago.
 

An interesting but unmarked land sculpture caught my eye.


Thanks to Google maps, I learned that it honors Willy Brandt, the German chancellor who won the 1971 Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts to keep the Iron Curtain from separating Europe during the Cold War.  He was mayor of Berlin when I visited with my parents in 1963.


Does your pooch need a rinse after frolicking on the beach?



Sculpture, basketball courts and industrial detritus line the river walk, much as they do along the Hudson on New York's West Side.



Is that an unhappy nun across the street?


Locals fish, sun and swim from these docks.


The Arrábida Bridge, completed in the early 1950s, relieved traffic congestion on the Dom Luis I bridge, originally constructed to carry horses and wagons.



I turned the corner at this Art Deco building to walk back up the hill to the Crystal Palace Gardens.   




I never did get around to hopping on board a tram.



It turned out that the 19th-century palace, modeled after the one in London, had been replaced long ago with the Superbock Arena.  Still, the hike was worth the views.


Signs warn visitors to the park that the peacocks, which have the run of the place, can be aggressive.  My battery died before I could take more than a couple of photos.



A quick re-charge at the hotel before returning to Mercado Bon Successo for dinner enabled me document that Portugal hasn't altogether reckoned with its past as a colonial power, at least not in this Porto ice cream shop.  


Tuesday, May 16, 2023

Bottom To Top in Porto

I spied tiny pedestrians atop the Dom Luis I Bridge, along with bright yellow trams. Designed by a disciple of Gustave Eiffel at the end of the nineteenth century, it crosses the Douro River.  


The bright afternoon sun shone down on the lively area below, known as the Cais da Ribeira where people congregated under umbrellas drinking beer and coffee.


A group of young musicians entertained the crowd.



I could have taken a funicular to see the view from the bridge, but instead I chose the ancient stairs and stopped midway to buy a bottle of ice-cold water from a woman with a cooler.  It tasted nearly as good as the Coke I drank in London almost 50 years earlier after throwing up all night long in Cynthia's Knightsbridge flat.


The top of the bridge blends in seamlessly with the surrounding neighborhood, where lemon trees grow in abundance.


What a view!



I had just enough energy to tour both the Porto Cathedral and Bishop's Palace, a short walk from the bridge.


Although the church, originally constructed in the Romanesque style, dates from the mid-12th century, it has undergone many iterations since, including the addition of this Gothic cloister.


Panteleon, a martyr and the patron saint of Porto, looked like he was having a good time until I noticed the ropes around his wrists and ankles.  Of course the two aren't mutually exclusive for some people.


These putto, rescued from their original, more densely decorated perch, took advantage of a blank wall.


This colorful floral background, likely a product of a Baroque renovation, sets off the crucifixion nicely but seems a little at odds with the subject.


And if you believe this wood carver, Jesus and his disciples were watching their waist lines at the Last Supper.


The scene in this tile work appears to be more pagan than Christian.


I climbed to the top of the cathedral to get 360-degree views of the city.



Crenellation is my new favorite word.


The enormous staircase is the main reason to check out the nearby Bishop's Palace.



Who can resist a halo selfie even if it means shooting from below at an unflattering angle?


Although the palace hasn't been used as a residence for decades, the bishop still occasionally hosts special events there.  Much of the first floor remains furnished in a style that leaves no doubt about the wealth of the Catholic Church, including the cabinetry surface below and a dining table with some of most elaborate silver cutlery I've ever seen (but too reflective to be captured photographically).


On my way to the metro, I figured I might as well check out the Sao Bento since my train to Lisbon in two days would be leaving from a dull suburban station,. The tile work, depicting the nation's history, was completed in 1916, the year my mother was born.


Back in Boavista the alien graffiti came as a welcome respite from the mobbed historic center.


Serendipitously, my hotel was just a short walk away from Mercado Bon Successo, a food court with an incredible selection of food that solved my discomfort with dining alone.  As I texted Thom and Chris, my usual traveling companions, "Meals aren’t as fun without you guys but the food is just as tasty!" I had fried sardines and a stew that combined garbanzos and codfish, washed down with an ice cold beer.