Portugal Travelogue, Part 1:
This summer, we gave ourselves the gift of time: three whole weeks travelling through Portugal by train.
We've never been away for so long (living in Bulgaria for 18 months in the noughties notwithstanding).
Our travels are usually quick and crammed. A few days in a city, doing all the things, then straight back to work.
Savouring Time While We Have It
Since I quit my job earlier this year, and with Graham taking a sabbatical thanks to voluntary redundancy, we've found ourselves in the rare position of being able to disappear for three whole weeks. No written permission needed from a middle manager for HR.
Life is short. Time moves quickly. We're conscious of our mortality - Graham is already in his 50s and I'll be there soon.
It felt important to take this chance while we still have our health, our energy, and the freedom to roam. Life doesn’t often hand both of us the same opportunity at the same moment, so when it did, we grabbed it with both hands.
We've approached this slow adventure with curiosity, an open mind, and to embrace the joy of wandering (and wondering).
No rushing, no cramming, and a lightly planned itinerary based on train times and accommodation availability (it is peak season after all).
Packing simply, then heading off in search of inspiration, experiences, markets, and moments of slow living.
The Feel of a Place
Our adventure began in Porto. A UNESSCO heritage city, the second city of Portugal with it's iconic hills, bridges, tiles, churches and indescribable charm.
Portugal doesn’t just have places, it has feelings that live inside places.
The mood of a street, the soul of a neighbourhood, the emotional weight of a landscape.
Three words capture this beautifully:
Alma, Encanto & Saudade.
Alma is the closest to that indescribable charm and soul of a place. Each stop on our route through this spectacular country, had it's own Alma.
The word Alma is the spirit or soul of a place. It's not what you see its what you sense.
Encanto is charm or enchantment and it's about the magic of a place.
Saudade is longing or emotional nostalgia. Famously untranslatable.
All words that don't exactly translate into English, but awaken your senses when you visit a new place and start peeling back its layers.
And Porto has many layers. Mostly hilly ones!
Hills, History, Markets and Cobbles
The first day of any new adventure is always exhausting. A mash up of excitement, adrenaline, mild chaos and anxiety - "Have I remembered everything? What if I miss a transfer? What if trains are late? Have I got copies of all the paperwork?" - My already noisy brain in overdrive.
We’d barely stepped outside, yet somehow clocked 15,000 steps, trundling through concourses and platforms like two over‑packed snails. Backpacks on, wheely bags chugging along in our wake, blinking into the blinding sunlight, carrying our whole lives for the next few weeks.
Our apartment was a short stroll from São Bento Station, famous for its breathtaking interior of 20,000 stunning hand‑painted azulejo tiles. They tell stories of Portuguese history - battles, royal weddings, rural life - created by artist Jorge Colaço between 1905 and 1916.
The station itself is a famous tourist attraction and it's always packed with people snapping pictures (us included). The scale and detail of it is something else. Also a bit annoying having to fight through crowds of people looking up instead of around them, while you're dragging bags through to the baggage lockers.
All Those Hills
When Google Maps tells you somewhere is a 5 minute walk, what it doesn't show you is the gradient. It's a short walk, but it's knackering, especially in 30+ degrees (86 Fahrenheit).
Porto is hilly.
Ribera, the old town and a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1996, is a jumble of tall, narrow houses stacked shoulder‑to‑shoulder up the hillside.
Orange rooftops, wrought‑iron balconies, peeling paint, colourful tiled façades, and the occasional building that looks like it’s held together by sheer stubborn bloody mindedness.
Our apartment sat right by Porto Cathedral (Sé do Porto), one of the city’s oldest monuments, dating back to the 12th century.
Ruins & Revival
From our terrace, terracotta roofs form a patchwork tumbling down towards the Douro River. Immediately beside us were ruins, surprising at first, until you learn why.
During the dictatorship of António de Oliveira Salazar (1933–1974), much of Porto’s historic centre was abandoned.
People left the country in huge numbers; even today, more Portuguese live abroad than in Portugal itself.
Many buildings fell into disrepair, and without owners or funds, they simply stayed that way. Some are now state‑owned, waiting for restoration that may never come.
Watching men in hard hats picking their way through a nearby ruin with crowbars and ladders, you realise how challenging rebuilding is here. Narrow cobbled alleyways, steep inclines, no vehicle access, cranes and trucks simply can’t reach many of these structures. All the facades are UNESCO protected, so the builders need to be so careful not to cause damage to their heritage.
Pavement Cafés, Cold Beers, & People‑Watching
We wandered the neighbourhood, easing ourselves into the rhythm of our new home for the next eight days. A pavement café, a salad, and that glorious first holiday beer - Super Bock, naturally (it's the local lager).
We were just outside the main riverside tourist zone, but still in the lively fringes: people forever coming and going, a constant hum of activity day and night.
Cute little shops dotted the streets, and tucked between back alleys we found an artisan market.
I picked up a printed cork pencil case and a notebook from a gorgeous family‑run stall and got chatting with the owner. Printed cork is everywhere in Porto - but not all of it is authentically Portuguese. Some pieces are imported, so you have to be savvy.
I made mental notes for the 'Hen’s Tooth Portugal Edit': expect printed cork pieces on future market stalls.
Learning to Slow Down (Even When You’re Excited)
We’re used to short trips. Our breaks usually involve dipping into a city, cramming everything in, marching from sight to sight.
I talk about slow living and slow business all the time because it's a journey I'm on myself. By creating a business around it, I'm keeping things honest and accountable.
For this adventure, we have three weeks to explore Portugal by train.
Tuk Tukking Around
A whole week in Porto with deliberately unplanned days.
But unplanned days still need something, so we started with a Tuk Tuk tour.
Porto is actually two cities: Porto on one side of the Douro, and Vila Nova de Gaia on the other. Gaia is home to the famous port wine cellars and more populous than Porto itself.
Our guides, Michael and Ricardo, born and bred in the city, zipped us around the 6 bridges, up and down hills, the 43 churches, the theatre district, and the old Jewish quarter, sharing stories and personal anecdotes.
Porto’s streets are narrow, winding, and often congested. The locals are generally chilled… until they get behind the wheel. Honking is practically a sport. Even in a Tuk Tuk, you’re part of the chaos, but at least you can dodge the queues.
By mid‑morning, the heat was rising, so the breeze through the cab was very welcome. Plus, it saved our feet.
A City Transformed
Michael told us how dramatically Porto has changed. Even 10 to 15 years ago, he said, the city was impoverished and crime‑ridden. UNESCO recognition in 1996 brought tourism, investment, and a slow but steady revival.
But many abandoned buildings from the mid‑20th century still lack patrons or funding. Some may never be restored.
Property prices shocked me. They are genuinely at Bristol levels, Bristol second only to London for unaffordability in the UK. Porto is now one of the least affordable cities in Portugal. If I were a developer, I’d see opportunity everywhere. It makes you wonder what Porto will look like in another decade.
Markets, Pastries, Wandering & Wondering
Later, we returned to the market we’d passed on the Tuk Tuk tour.
Colour everywhere.
The smell of grilled food, pastries, spices. People drifting between stalls with glasses of wine in hand.
We grabbed savoury pastries and smoothies, then wound our way back up the cobbled streets, with a cheeky beer stop, obviously.
Back on the balcony, overlooking the rooftops and ruins, we settled into the first leg of our journey.
A gentle reminder to ourselves: we have 21 days. They can’t all be packed with activities, rich food, and alcohol.
This trip is about slowing down, noticing things, and letting Portugal reveal itself one day at a time.