Porto's street art

Porto has a lot of multitalented people, — too many of them underemployed. I met a girl who works in a T-shirt shop who is an illustrator with a B.A. in architecture, and a guy who has exhibited his photographs in Australia and Germany and is working for a friend’s digital magazine to make ends meet. Both said they’d like to continue living in Portugal but are not sure they can afford to. Below are some small- and large-scale pieces by renowned street artists Mesk, Costah, Lara Luis, Hugo Sousa and others.

Mundane, marvelous Porto

In autumn's thinning shadows, the saddest sound in the world is that of rolling luggage on cobblestones.

Take me to church

While visitors are given wide berth (drug laws are permissive and drinking is allowed on the street), it is a conservative city without strip clubs or casinos (bingo is popular, however), and I am treated with more courtesy when I wash off the grime, put on a nice shirt and my big-boy slacks and make a lighthearted attempt to speak the local language. So many tourists are absolute fucking slobs and wonder why they can’t get a table, or worse, why the locals are shaking their heads and muttering to one another. It’s night and day, really.

The glowering Se, above, is Porto’s cathedral and oldest church, built as a fortress in the 12th century. From this terrace, behind the photographer, is a great view of the river. At left is a Manueline (or late Portuguese Gothic) pillory.

French kids smoking hashish on the back steps of the Se Cathedral.

The Portuguese Baroque Igreja do Carmo, above, is the church across the street from me. It's actually a twin church, attached to the Igreja dos Carmelitas next door. And attached to that is an army barracks where horses are kept. There’s a guy who lies on his side outside the entrance, begging for money, like he’s disabled or something, but I’ve seen him jog across the street. The church has bells, but they don't ring, which mildly disappoints me. It is best known for its vast azulejo panel on its northeast exterior, below.

Tiles depict the founding of the Carmelite order on Mount Carmel. It's important to these folks.

Next to the stock exchange, the Sao Francisco Church, below, is basically on the river and features a garlanded, gold-encrusted 18th-century interior. No photos are permitted. My finger must've slipped; sorry!

At center is a tree, carved in 1718-21, depicting the ancestors of Christ (Joseph, David, Solomon, etc.)

Praca de Carlos Alberto

There's an upscale flea market here on the weekends: contemporary art, jams made with port, etc.

Our fall line

Rua da Conceicao.

O Caraças

I want to live here. The gracious sisters and kitchen staff who run this place
make it easy for the visitor: “Meat or fish?” There is no menu, no ceremony, and, lacking a sign outside, no other tourists on this misty afternoon.

I devoured a plate of hot, juicy sardines in about five minutes, leading the chef

to pop out of the kitchen to inquire, “Uma mais?” I did a quick calculation (room for coffee, dessert, etc.) and decided this is not a woman you say no to.

“Si.”

Later over espresso and chocolate cake, she saw me playing with my camera. “Voce gosto fotografias?”

“Si.”

She led me by the elbow up some stairs, past the kitchen, and ... how about this? A rooftop terrace with views of the Douro River, with St. John’s Church in the foreground.

So there you have it. The doorway to heaven is on the other side of the white car. All you have to do is say yes.

Good neighbors

Rua das Taipas, Clerigos District.