moss-covered steps further up the mountainside. It was certainly no ordinary staircase but rather the way of a spiritual pilgrimage. Peaceful silence engulfed the tranquil sanctuary, creating a sacred bubble of serenity that is not enjoyed often enough by those used
to the clamor of the city. As my mind moved away from To-Do lists and into the realm of calm contemplation, my feet continued to carry me upwards towards the pinnacle: Santuário do Bom Jesus do Monte.
Outside the city of Braga, the Sanctuary of Bom Jesus crowns the hilltop in extravagant Baroque glory. The zig-zagged staircase at the base of the church is impressive and mesmerizing. Statues proclaim the Truth from their stony perches and the spiritual waters flow forth from fountains steeped in symbolism. The altar piece inside the church portrays the scene at Calvary with life-like statues that leave you speechless and humble. Behind the magnificent building, a small pond with colorful rowboats serves as place for reflecting on the eternal in a more light-hearted manner.
A week ago, I had no idea I would have such a transcendental experience during my 4 day trip to Portugal. And perhaps that is why it was extra special.
Taking advantage of the holiday weekend in Spain, Sarah and I set off for t
he Country Next Door early on Saturday morning. A few hours later, we emerged from the São Bento metro in the heart of Porto. The tiled façade of a church that greeted us was such a beautiful surprise that we couldn’t stop sounds of appreciation escaping from our lips… “Oh, wow,” we both gasped. When something like that happens, you know you are somewhere special.
Porto, Portugal, is an incredible gem, rising up from the banks of the Douro River like an antique puzzle, with colored edges faded yet nonetheless striking. Dozens of church belfri
es peek above the reddish-orange shingled-roofs of buildings stacked one on top of the other. The clanging bells compete with the shrill cries of seagulls, resonating with the harmony between man and nature. Porto is a city of charming contrast where dominating neoclassical palaces border medieval churches and where cheery tiled walls touch the charred remains of a former neighbor.
Thanks to British exportation, Porto has received world renown for its fortified wines named after the city itself. Porto became the natural city for the manufacturing and aging of the wine, because it is the gateway between the
terraced vineyards situated up the Douro River and its mouth that opens to the Atlantic and to the world. Barcos rabelos served as the original transportation method between the vineyards and the wine cellars, but now they are used mostly for nostalgic purposes. Most of the traditional boats are anchored on the bank opposite the city’s center along the Cais de Gaia, a street lined with wine cellars mostly sporting British names like Taylors, Cockburn, and Sandeman. Of course, our stay would not be complete without a tour of an authentic Port wine maker. A ticket deal granted Sarah and me a tour of the Sandeman wine lodge and a tour of the Palácio da Bolsa, the opulent Stock Exchange Palace of Porto whose magnificence makes you want to sing “Masquerade” from Phantom of the Opera. We did just that.
But there is so much more to Porto than its sickly sweet alcoholic beverage.
The city is a living breathing museum where almost every building is a work of art, brightly decorated in various patterns of tile, framed by 
whitewashed wooden windows, and accented by wrought iron balconies. Porto is home to many interesting churches, too. São Francisco Church has one of the most impressive church interiors I've ever seen. The walls and ceilings are covered in gilded wood in a Rocco-Baroque style that carries your eyes from twisted vines below to glorious figures above. The Igreja dos Clérigos has the tallest tower in Portugal, and SK & I got a bird’s eye view of the marvelous city one 
non-rainy morning. Actually, it rained most of the time we were in Porto, but try as it might, the ugly weather couldn’t prevent us from being enchanted by the city.
Unlike many of our past mini-trips, we met a lot of people through our hostel and then actually hung out with them. For example, on night we went out to the Cais de Ribeira (a UNESCO World Heritage site and the location of Porto’s nightlife) with some fellow Americans who also work in small towns in Extremadura (a south-western Spanish province). The six of us represented our country from coast to coast, and we enjoyed comparing teaching stories and travel experiences. On another night, SK & I hung out with some Peruvians who work in Madrid. They’re coming to our Christmas party this weekend. Lastly, I had a lot of great conversations with Vicky, a girl from Mexico who’s studying Brazilian guitar and works at the hostel. Actually, there were several times when I preferred to stay in our cozy Christmasy hostel and chat with her rather than walk about the city in the drizzling rain. Marta also worked at the hostel and her 8 year old daughter, Marina, gave SK & me a Portuguese lesson one morning, Portuguese is a beautiful mix of Spanish, French, and Italian sounds (those Romance Languages), and I find it quite fascinating. After Marina’s lesson, I’d consider myself quite conversational, since we did carry on together for about 20 minutes or so. ;-)
We loved Porto, but we might have loved our experience in Braga even more
. On Monday morning, SK & I took a train from the São Bento Station to Braga. Without too much effort, we located the pedestrian-friendly city center and realized that we had discovered Disney’s European version of a Christmastown. The heart of Braga was decked to the halls with lights, music, and window displays, all contributing to an atmosphere of complete Christmas cheer. The Praça da República was transformed into a luminous tribute to the Nativity Scene and exuded holiday joy. SK & I were simply beside ourselves with merriment and delight.
Other than skipping around like school children, sitting at charming cafes for a coffee or a tasty pastry (have I mentioned that Portugal is famous for its various pastries?), and doing a bit window shopping, the only t
hing Sarah and I “saw” was the Sanctuary of Bom Jesus, which I described at the beginning of my tale. That grand staircase was one of many staircases that we climbed over the weekend. Portugal is quite hilly; Braga and Porto are no exceptions. I don’t think my knees appreciated our trip as much as the rest of me did, because they are still protesting their past sufferings days later. My taste buds, on the other hand, are wondering where the party went now that I’m back in Madrid. The truth is that they got a good taste of Portugal, all too literally.
1 comment:
I love how well you capture in words the sense of the places we've visited! It's wonderful and puts a smile on my face as I remember how much fun I had there with you. =)
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