The truth is that this article is highly conditioned by my stay in Oporto.

Oporto transpires. Transpires mystique, mystery and disguised romanticism. It is a woman parading through the streets and alleys that hides surreptitiously. Has a Douro’s blue eye and a sweet taste that has aged in a barrel.

For me there is no doubt that it’s a lady. One of those ladies full confidence who knows what she wants and goes where she wants to go. Wears dark clothes that only heat with certain colored areas among “rabelos“. Drinks in Galerias and is bohemian in Rua das Flores. Dances all night long. Smiles to tourists who visit her. Multiplies herself in a thousand colors. Creates her own trend. Is stylish, spins and spreads coolness. Lurks at the top of the Clérigos and admires her own beauty. Flatters simplicity. Smokes with class and always asks a Tonic Port. Wakes up smeared after eating a “Francesinha” at dawn. Knows that life should be hectic and crazy as if today was the last day.

Balances the orderly and tidy with abandoned and old. Knows all the traditional restaurants of the lost alleys and keeps them in their life because tradition is something stirring. Knows that all roads lead to the Rotunda da Boavista and therefore she’s never lost.

But gets lost in love with Foz, where the river that she loves blends with the sea. As a son who leaves home and heads around the world.

Hugs Strangers as a hobby and sleeps with them in fashionable hostels. If there is place. Because Oporto is always full. Because Oporto is trendy and there are always new unravel mysteries.

Photo Credits – OpenSource – Flickr – José Moutinho