Oh, Porto! The enchanting city is built on a steep hill that kept us on our toes and gave me shin splints. When you arrive in place like Porto for the first time, in the middle of the night, the narrow alleyways with their slender, quiet facades resembling Eastern Bloc are somewhat formidable. There wasn’t a person in sight until we reached the Douro. Once approached by a local, the trepidation completely vanished.

The culture was fascinating. The natives were the friendliest, most accommodating, considerate souls I’ve ever come across. People there live for the good of others. Being selfless is selfish. It is a simple way of life. Laundry hangs on lines constructed out of twigs and twine were. The public laundromat is a constantly flowing pool of water. The water is colored aquamarine with an abundance of fish. There are just some observations on our venture to Gaia.

If architecture could talk, I wonder what it would say. Many of the buildings we passed were in a state of disrepair. We found out later that most of the buildings were passed down as family heirlooms, but some of the families are too poor to maintain the upkeep. If the buildings are not occupied, they’re technically tax-free. So they sit there and rot. Many of the buildings were nothing but the facade, maybe a beam or two that passed the toll of time. I found something charming in their disintegration. This one in particular had a great view:

Let it be known, if you’re looking for quality food and drink for prices you wouldn’t imagine still possible in this day and age, go to Porto. Go to their butchers and eat their meat. Go to the store and buy their vegetables. Buy their wine for one Euro (and it’s better than any other wine your ever had, seriously). You will be eternally satisfied.