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Steep valley down to the river, which flows from central Spain to become for a while the border between Spain and Portugal. Porto is a bit of a mess, and not very attractive from the river, and the city itself is big noisy and dirty. But just upstream the houses by the river are rather nice, with some splendid constructions. The trees come down to the water's edge, and there are numerous little sandy beaches, and lots of little coves. There are ruins everywhere. I dont list any, but if anyone wants a very pretty site overlooking a majestic river, book a touring holiday up the valley. There are lots of worth-while side trips. But the real treasure is the bargains to be had. You can whizz into town in your speed-boat, do the shopping, and speed back to your jetty. Buy on the north side, so you get a south-facing view.
The City: What the hell am I doing sitting in the lounge of a river steamer on the Douro, just inland of central Porto looking out across the river flattened with the driving rain? Ah yes, I remember. I am on holiday! Bah humbug! And today the rain came down in buckets. Okay, I dont care. I am joining the rest of the keen mob and we will do old Porto. We get into a rebolo, which is a style of boat that used to be used to transport barrels of wine down-river. The originals are quite short, with a carriage area at the front, which can take six to ten barrels. Then there is the wheelhouse, and at the back a large rudder coming right up over the wheelhouse. Porto from the river is a bit of a mess. Half the houses are derelict. The river is in a gorge, and the sides are steep. Whole terraces of houses are empty and falling apart. I go up from the river-side in the funicular. The streets in the upper town are lumpy and badly maintained. There are derelict sites everywhere. Here the road is being bulldozed, there a JCB is biting into a pavement, and there is mud everywhere. And here is the metro. Great! Down the steps, why not? I have no idea where I am going, but let's try it out. I decide to go to Trindade. The card from the funicular can be used on the metro. I stick it into a machine, press the button marked Recharge, and put in a euro. My card comes back loaded, and there is some pointless change. The train is yellow on the outside, blue within. And off we go. God knows where Trindade is. The weather cant make up its mind. It is drizzling now. I pass a theatre, that's the second so far. There is a shopping street. Everywhere are bun shops. On the corner is a church with both visible walls covered in biblical scenes painted on tiles. Opposite is a shop with the intriguing title "God Shop". Further down is a large square surrounded by massive buildings, and the roads and pavements are being ripped up. To the south, going downhill, is a small street full of boutique shops. The apartments above all have metal balcony rails, the washing is hanging out to dry under plastic cloches draped over in a sad attempt to keep the rain off. The street ends in a little square. But this isn't a square, it is simply a place where several streets dont quite meet, and there is a space joining them. It twists around like a selection of building blocks. And here is another little street, with two fat bottomed gypsies who want me to buy something. They squawk at me. Yikes! Fancy being married to one of them. Fancy being screamed at in that raucus high screech. And the ultimate deterrent, being thumped by a sudden sideways jerk of those huge buttocks. One wack and you'd be down and out, totally done for. There is a one-armed begger outside a church. Inside are half a dozen people seeking comfort in some strange belief, and a woman is crying. Outside the rain is coming down hard. I shelter under a leaking tree. Where the heck am I? I look up to see if I can tell the direction. There is no telltale brightness in the sky. The sun is well and truly hidden, but I can see the way the light breaks into shafts and blocks, and I know that south is down across the square. Across a street, past more derelict buildings, past another theatre. There is a cute corner of balconied houses, one with blue tiles all down the walls, an old man is walking up some steps singing some fado. I walk to the right, along a narrow alley, and into a wide street, and I can at last see where I am. I walk past the old stock exchange building, down into the Rua Infante don Henrique. I go past an archway. Within is a Port cellar. I should stop and taste some Port in Porto, but I still have some way to go, and I want to get bacfk to base before the rain really comes down. Ahead the road disappears into a tunnel. I turn up a narrow alley. There is a strong smell of freshly baked bread. On each side there used to be small shops like large cupboards. This is like a street in Morocco. All that is left of the shops are the large wooden double doors. Further up the doors are open, and narrow shops just over two metres wide open to the lane. There is a man stitching shoes. There is a ridiculously narrow cafe. There is a fabric shop. At the corner I turn right, walking sharply uphill over the cobbles. Ahead of me is another man singing. It doesn't sound like fado. The tune is a happy little round. There is another small cafe. I keep walking up and up. The side streets are barely two metres wide. The apartments almost touch each other across the alleyway. I come out into a semi-circle of space. Behind me are small shops which are like beach huts. I walk up beside castle walls. I come out to the cathedral. Inside they are saying mass. I look around. The walls are bare, the only decoration being where there are side chapels. I look up at the ceiling. There are no paintings; nothing. It looks like the inside of a grain silo. I turn and walk out again. It is chucking it down with rain. I scurry down an alley to get back to the boat. The alley turns into a set of steps, and the rain is sloshing down the alley, and tumbling down the steps like a waterfall. I cant believe it; there is a shop on a corner, and a bar opposite. Heck, I thought this was just a staircase. To one side is a row of houses. They are all derelict. There is a strong smell of urine as the water cascades down the alleyway. I am soaked to the skin. At the bottom, the steps open onto the street in front of the quais. Opposite are the port lodges of Gaia, Sandeman, Calem, and the others. This is Porto. It is a curate's egg. There are some delights, and a hell of a lot of horrors, but it looks as if it has the makings of an intriguing old town, but its wealth has moved upstream. It is dying, and will get worse until someone decides to pump some funding into the area. I had thought Porto was a thriving town. Maybe the new town further inland is thriving, but the old one is sliding down the hill into the river. And there are plenty of town ruins to buy. But dont hold your breath waiting for city centre renewal. |
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© John Clare 2006
