A perfect Francesinha in Porto. All the food groups represented. A cold glass of beer brand name unknown, but with that sandwich does it really matter?. No, I can tell you it really doesn’t. It’s a funny thing though, back in the day a trip to Europe, particularly England, Belgium, or Germany meant you were in for a real treat when it came to drinking beer. Not so much these days as the U.S. craft brewery scene seems to now dominate the world of beer. This is particularly true in Southern Europe (Italy, Spain, Greece, Potugal) as it still seems to be all about the wine. And though things are changing in the Old Country, to enjoy a good glass of beer you’d better be chowing down on something special. Ah, but isn’t everything in Portugal special, which brings us to Porto and the famous Francesinha.
I had the opportunity to vacation in Lagos down in southern Portugal on the Algarve and decided to get there by starting in northwest Spain and meandering down the Coast. I had a week to kill before the family arrived in Lagos so I enjoyed a couple of days in Santiago de Compostella and the smaller Spanish town of Vigo and then headed in to Portugal eager to get to Lisbon. Having never been to Portugal, I assumed that Lisbon would be the city where it made sense to spend the most time and I wanted to ensure I had several days to look around. I wasn’t so sure it made sense to stop in Porto and thought I might “save it” for another visit. So when I got off the train upon arriving in Porto early one morning I planned only to take a quick look around, concentrating my time down by the Douro River.
I made my way down to the river and was immediately struck by its friendly, bohemian like appeal. There were plenty of tourists eager to take the Gondola ride from the Dom Luis Bridge down to the river, but the there was also a very noticeable locals presence. It’s difficult these days to find a city with such a perfect blend. Interesting, eclectic, modern and old at the same time, culturally significant, large enough to spend a week, small enough to feel like you know it in a day. Somewhat reserved but not in an elitist way, the people were as friendly as they come and the town, I would find out, comes alive enough in the evenings that you can’t help but have a good time. No downside here I thought to myself, and at this point I hadn’t even had a beer (or that wonderful looking Francesinha sandwich) or a glass of Port wine. Quickly checking my watch and realizing I didn’t have near enough time to see the city, I made the decision that Lisbon would have to wait.
The logical thing to do was to book a room for a night and then get busy exploring the town. I found something not too far from center city and in doing so came to another critical realization; Porto was going to be a lot cheaper to visit than Lisbon. Next up was lunch and I had heard that the Portuguese did Octopus as well or perhaps better than the Spaniards. Seemed like an easy choice. However, in chatting up the guy in the Funicular station, I learned that Porto was famous for a sandwhich called the Francesinha, which he further told me translates as “the little french girl”. My, my the Portuguese do seem to have a great sense of humor. A little French girl for lunch? I really didn’t know what to make of that. He gave me directions to a little cafe and I ordered up my Francesinha and a beer and sat down to one of the best meals I’ve ever had.
I covered a lot of ground that day. I rambled up and down the river front exploring Rebeira, took the funicular up to the neighborhood of Maragia which seemed to me to be the “locals” neighborhood with lots of shoppers out and about. The two neighborhoods are similar to some extent with very colorful houses and shops. I then visited the downtown area of Baixa running into a railway station adorned with some killer street art before grabbing some dinner (at which time I did learn that the Portuguese do in fact make excellent Octopus dishes) and an obligatory glass of Port wine. Worn out and a little drunk, I began stumbling back to my hotel and ran smack into an outside party that seemed to be taking place on a garage roof. Not certain what the celebration was all about but it appeared to me as if it was “open to the public” so I joined the crowd. Live band, cheap drinks, and hundreds of people I didn’t know having fun. Porto was definitely my kinda town.
Waking up the next morning I realized the walk back to the hotel was quite the blur. I also realized it was 10:30 AM and checkout time was right around the corner. To make matters worse, some alien being was inside my head pounding on a drum. Do you think a Francesinha would cure a hangover? I gave it a try which of course brings us full circle. No regrets, but the next time I go to Porto I’m going to stay a week and will be pacing myself.
Travel safe.
