The difficult thing about Porto – and I guess in most other tourist cities, is knowing who you are.
In trying to get around, especially the more picturesque areas, I found myself cursing the ‘tourists’ that got in my way, and that voice in my head said “hang on – you’re one of them.” Which made me think, “am I? – And if I’m not, who am I?”
I have been interested in the tarot for nearly 50 years, and still think of myself as the Magician – the first numbered card, where a guy in motley stands over a table laid out with the four suits of the deck – cups, coins, wands and swords as if deciding what to do with them. I still feel like an apprentice traveller, an apprentice in life.
So, what am I doing in Porto? What are we all doing in Porto? I remember taking a photo of the “road train” which can be seen pulling tourists around the city (it’s just a car made to look like a train folks – that you pay a premium to ride!) and seeing someone inside taking a photo of me! It reminded me of when I lived in Glossop in the Peak District, of people (occasionally) taking photos of my house – because it was so small, not because it was photogenic.
There is nothing like being in Porto for making you question your identity. Am I here as a tourist, a blogger, a photographer, a retiree, an ex-pat, a traveller, a nomad? The list goes on. And I question myself. Being in Porto has brought up all sorts of unlooked for questions – such as “do I spend time doing the touristy things just to put them on my blog / social media or do I do what I want / need to do?” ”Why do I feel so guilty about spending the day indoors especially when I have peace and quiet and a nice view to look at?” or even “how shall I spend my day?”
On one of my last days in the city, I managed to fit in a trip to a Port warehouse / museum, a Fado concert and a Brazilian rodizio restaurant all in the same afternoon / evening and felt I had achieved something. This is what it means to be a tourist – doing this sort of thing ALL the time. Except it is not me. I do enjoy Fado. I like Brazilian food but couldn’t be going to restaurants every evening and certainly not ones that serve the amount of meat you get at a rodizio. As for museums – I am visiting less and less as I get older – perhaps because I feel that I am historical enough and don’t need to know about more history. Perhaps because it’s all about the same sad stuff.
So who am I? In some ways, all I have done is moved my every-day life from Sheffield in the UK where I lived for nearly 30 years to different towns across Europe. In some of them I have played the role of part-time tourist – in others it has been more head down and get on with the job of day to day living. Which takes me back to Porto. It is a strange place. It feels like there are two cities, the one which has been put there for tourists and the real city where the locals live. The street on which I lived was a case in point. I was in a block of modern flats most of which had this gorgeous view of the iconic River Douro, (though not me – I was too low down.) On the other side of the main road – the street was full of traditional houses, some occupied by locals – but slowly being “gentrified” by renovated buildings with the AL sign outside – signalling that short-term rentals are allowed (all have to be registered in this way in Portugal.) Going down the hill is an area where this gentrification has yet to happen. There are small restaurants where you can get a fixed menu of 3 courses with a small jug of wine for 6 or 7 euros, a tiny playground for the local kids and an allotment – right on the upper river bank which has been ‘squatted’ by local environmentalists and provides cheap food to the community. It’s like the previous Porto is still living with the invaders from the rest of the world.
And where did I feel the most comfortable? Yep, I was having the set menus and walking through the allotment, but I was aware of having a foot or rather a toe in each camp. I may have felt more comfortable in the basic cafes – but I wasn’t part of the community; how could I be in just a few days? (Although it might be possible in some countries – see my posts on Brussels and Brest.)
What I was more aware of, was NOT feeling part of the other community. The one which dines at the ‘best’ restaurants or has to have the latest experience, whether that is going for a river cruise or travelling on a fake little road train around the city.
I found Porto fascinating. With so many opposites, (the main street near me had an upmarket bijou restaurant overlooked by a carpark where rough sleepers gathered.) There were also rough sleepers in the entrances to some of the closed hotels in the city. I am not sure if they were closed because of the virus or if it was normal for the season (I was there in February) but there did seem to be quite a number.
So my snapshot of Porto was at the quiet time of the year, which begs the question, “what must it be like in the Summer?” And, “how do all the locals feel about the tourists who flock to their city but rarely interact with them? How about outsiders taking up a lot of the accommodation whilst some locals are left to sleep in shop doorways?” I think there can be lots of arguments on both sides of this. The tourists bring in lots of income and some of this at least goes to the small shops, cafes and restaurants that the locals own and use. So far Porto seems to have avoided much of the gentrification which is happening in other places, but I can see it starting to take hold. But there is a lot of empty and semi-derelict property here which could be renovated and used to house locals (or free up other property now used by tourists.) So I think blaming the tourists (and I guess travellers like me) for the poor housing situation is well …
It is something that I still struggle with. I do try to avoid the tourist traps (although have failed so far in Portugal) and I do try to help the locals as much as possible. I am interested in the sustainable tourism movement and this is something that I will be looking into more and more as my travels progress. For now I have happy memories of Porto and was glad I visited at a quiet time. The city has worked its magic on me, as it does for many people, but is it the place I should settle in? I’m not so sure.
