Portugal Old, New and Undiscovered há um olhar diferente (e rendido) sobre o nosso Norte.
"(Oporto) It’s a city of bold, sudden architectural contrasts, in which two or three blocks collapse two or three centuries. On my first afternoon there, near the summit of the city, I traced the edges of Praça da Liberdade, marveling over the way its Beaux-Arts flourishes recall Paris at its prettiest. Thirty minutes later and less than a half mile down the sharply graded descent toward the river, I was staring at the rococo facade of the Igreja da Misericórdia, which dates to the 16th century. It put me in mind of Rome.
The church is on Rua das Flores, perhaps my favorite street in Oporto: slender, shaded, intimate, many of its low-slung buildings fronted with wrought iron or covered with painted tiles, which were probably garish at the start but have faded to a subtle, exquisite beauty. The Portuguese make lavish use of such tiles. The São Bento train station in Oporto has, in its main hall, enormous blue-and-white-tile murals of historic scenes. That station is near one end of Rua das Flores; near the other, on a corner just beyond the Igreja da Misericórdia, is a particularly beautiful house with a graceful medley of blue and ocher shades that mesmerized me.
You know that sensation you get — that traveler’s high — when the spot in which you’re standing feels so right that you have to will yourself to budge? In front of that blue and ocher house, on an early April day kissed by sun and a subtle breeze both, I felt that splendid lethargy, and knew there was only one way to complement it. I needed wine. It was past 3 p.m., after all."