By Michael L. Weiss | Besorah from the Journey
Porto is a city that shimmers even in the rain. Perhaps it’s the granite—carved and weathered like an old scholar’s face. Perhaps it’s the azulejos—those iconic blue-and-white tiles that seem to tell entire epics on public walls. Or perhaps it’s simply the people, whose hospitality and sincerity remind you that, unlike the port wine for which this city is famous, kindness does not need aging to be full-bodied.
Located along the Douro River in northern Portugal, Porto—once known as Cale in Roman times—lent its name to an entire nation: Portus Cale, later evolving into Portugal. It was a city of merchants, explorers, and craftsmen. Lisbon might have stolen the spotlight as the imperial capital. However, Porto was always its soul. The city is hardworking, resilient, and defiantly proud.
Our home base for this journey was the extraordinary Yeatman Hotel, perched above Vila Nova de Gaia like a watchtower of elegance. With views that sweep across the river to the historic Ribeira district, the Yeatman is both a sanctuary and a celebration. Each suite is themed after a Portuguese winery. Ours features barrel-inspired decor and included a massive wine vat king size bed. Delightfully, a soaking tub is positioned so you can gaze at the city while contemplating life’s deeper vintages. The wall of windows overlooking the historic town and our private pool and lounge area had me saying do we actually have to leave or should we just move here.
Each morning began with a crossing of the Dom Luís I Bridge, a double-decker iron marvel designed by a disciple of Gustave Eiffel. The upper level now serves light rail and pedestrians, offering a panoramic view of the city’s terracotta rooftops cascading down to the riverbanks like a red-tiled waterfall. Even the pigeons in Porto seem to fly more gracefully—perhaps inspired by the architecture.
São Bento Railway Station
Now, I’m not one to wax poetic about train stations—but São Bento is not a train station. It’s a tiled temple to national identity. Over 20,000 azulejos by Jorge Colaço line its main hall, depicting sweeping historical scenes: Henry the Navigator (who only went to sea twice but is given credit for the start of exploration era) setting forth, royal processions, battles, and pastoral life in the Douro. Standing in the station, one doesn’t check the time—they check the centuries.
Convent Igreja de Santa Clara
If São Bento is grand in scale, the Convent Igreja de Santa Clara is divine in detail and far less crowded, it’s a secret that only the most seasoned traveler knows. My advice, avoid the crowds and come here instead. Tucked away behind an unassuming stone facade lies one of the most breathtaking gilded wood interiors in Europe. Completed in the 15th century as part of a Poor Clares convent, the church was remodeled in the Baroque style, and the result is overwhelming: every inch of wall and ceiling is layered in gold leaf—vines, cherubs, and celestial flourishes.
Here, contemplation takes on a glowing hue. The last nun was given the right to live out her life here before the convent transitioned to state ownership, which only occurred a few years ago. After more than 500 years of continuous devotion, you can still feel the weight of centuries in the silence. It is the silence of whispered prayers, daily rituals, and lives of quiet obedience. When the state assumed ownership, it did so with reverence, and restoration efforts have only deepened the sense that this is more than just art. It is sacred memory, frozen in gold and please if you come to Porto, don’t miss this magnificent example of craftsmanship, human spirit, and devotion.
Palácio da Bolsa: Where Commerce Dressed in Splendor
Standing proudly at the edge of Porto’s historic center, just steps from the Church of São Francisco, the Palácio da Bolsa is not merely a building—it is a gilded tribute to ambition, trade, and Portugal’s 19th-century desire to project strength through beauty.
The Palácio was built on the ruins of a cloister donated by Queen Maria II to Porto’s Commercial Association. This donation was made after a fire ravaged the former convent of São Francisco. The Palácio was intended to serve a very worldly purpose. It would house Porto’s burgeoning Commercial Association and serve as its official Stock Exchange. The city, rising in economic stature, wanted a venue as grand as its mercantile ambitions. And grand it became.
Construction began in 1842 and spanned over 60 years, involving some of Portugal’s most distinguished architects, painters, and artisans. The building reflects a harmonious blend of Neoclassical, Palladian, and Moorish Revival styles, a reminder that in the 19th century, trade was global and taste was eclectic.
You pass through the understated stone façade. Then you enter the Noble Courtyard (Pátio das Nações). Light floods in from a monumental octagonal glass dome above. The interior is inscribed with the names and coats of arms of countries with whom Portugal once traded including the United States—an imperial guest list rendered in marble and stucco. You can almost hear the echoes of handshakes and deals that once echoed through the chamber. It is the perfect marriage of elegance and economy: where fortunes were discussed under the gaze of allegorical figures.
Climbing the sweeping granite staircases (carved, I suspect, to humble even the most confident merchant), one reaches the most celebrated chamber in the palace the Arab Room.
Ah, the Salão Árabe. completed in 1880 and inspired by the Alhambra of Granada, this room alone is reason enough to visit Porto. Walls and ceilings drip with gilded Moorish Revival motifs—arches, calligraphy, star patterns, and intricate stucco work in gold leaf. Every inch is a celebration of craftsmanship and the notion that art can inspire business, not distract from it.
This is where the Porto Commercial Association received its most distinguished guests. But beyond the gilded arches and parquet floors, the Palácio da Bolsa stands as a profound statement: that commerce and culture need not be separate domains. In this place, architecture elevated business, and diplomacy was given a hall worthy of poetry.
As I stood in the Arab Room beneath 18-carat stenciled ceilings, I couldn’t help but think: in an age of digital markets and sterile boardrooms, this palace reminds us that beauty once mattered in business—and still should.
Capela das Almas (Chapel of Souls)
As we walked the merchant lined streets in the historic section we found that Porto’s churches are a constellation of faith and tiles, none more striking than the Capela das Almas, where the exterior tells stories of Saint Francis of Assisi and Saint Catherine on shimmering azulejos. Unlike the more reserved Gothic chapels, this one practically introduces itself to passersby. The tiles glow no matter the condition of sky, their stories wrapping around the building like a spiritual mural. We entered during a quiet moment, the scent of wax and wood heavy in the air, and sat for a time just listening to the silence. It spoke volumes.
World’s Prettiest McDonald’s
Yes, I said it and I confess. It’s not often I mention a fast-food joint in the same breath as sacred sites. But McDonald’s Imperial on Avenida dos Aliados defies expectations. Housed in the historic Café Imperial, it features crystal chandeliers, polished marble, and Art Deco stained glass panels that feel more 1920s Paris than modern-day plastic trays. Say what you will, but the Big Mac tastes better beneath a glass eagle and brass accents with tourist and locals lining up on the street just to get a seat inside where they dine not only on Big Mac’s and fires but Micky D soups, local dishes and typical fast food fare.
Historical Tapestry of Porto
Beyond its monuments, Porto’s importance in Portuguese history is profound. It was a launching point for ships headed down the coast of Africa and around the Cape of Good Hope. The city’s merchants were early players in the spice and wine trades. Its citizens are known for their fierce independence. Hence, they acquired the nickname “Tripeiros.” This name originated because the people donated all their good meat to the army during the 15th-century conquest of Ceuta. They ate only tripe themselves.
This spirit of sacrifice and resolve runs through Porto’s veins even today. During the 19th-century Liberal Wars, the city endured a year-long siege rather than give up its constitutional freedoms. One can feel that stoic resolve in the stones, in the stairs, in the faces of the people—gracious, but never yielding.
We wandered, we wondered, we wined. And at every turn, Porto gave more than it took: more beauty, more grace, more layers of history and hospitality. Cheryl, Maquie and I left with our hearts full and our palates delighted. Our legs… well, Porto’s hills are very character-building. You should be forewarned.
In a world increasingly dominated by the disposable and the digital, Porto stands firm—a city that remembers, that restores, and that welcomes. Like a well-aged port, it lingers long after the final sip. Até breve, Porto. You will always have a place in our story and heart.
