Porto is a land of colorful tiles, of wine barrels, of hills. It is home to a sinuous river that mirrors the city like an abstract creation. We feast on Francesinha, a towering sandwich composed of bread, cheese, ham, roast meat and sausage crowned with a fried egg and gravy. It’s like putting heaven between two slices of bread.
Porto is where I am with my friend Lluvia. Lluvia is her western name. Being from China but studying in Spain, she picked it out of ease for our pronunciation. Pretty sweet of her. Really, it must be to keep people from making an endless massacre of her given name. So I met Lluvia. We became friends. And we came to Porto.
Lluvia and I speak most often by hand signal. Our mother tongues are alien to the other and even our respective second languages are different. Instead we mix it all up, speaking in simple terms through Spanglish and French and Mandarin and Google translator and it works.
We meet Porto on a rainy weekend. Across the wet cobblestones, a rainbow is splattered. We order tangy sangria on a shielded terrace and listen to the sound of the water drops welcome us. We watch the yellow trams hiss by.
Graffiti is part of the architecture in Porto. It fills the walls with endless personalities. The already brightly colored buildings are saturated with multicolored tones making the city a vibrant piece of art. The patterned tiles also enveloping the buildings tell a story of Portuguese culture. Between a Port tasting and some souvenir shopping, for a short time, we fill our lungs of the liveliness of Porto.
About the Writer
I am Stefanie Auger-Roy. I was born in Canada and became addicted to travelling years ago when Internet cafes and payphones were necessities to speak with people back home. My goal is to taste as many different foods as I can during this lifetime. I enjoy discovering different cultures and photographing architecture.