modern porto

As I've said before, I didn't know what to expect from Portugal. I did get a preview in Up Magazine, TAP's in flight publication as I eventually flew to Porto, though. Well-written articles with a Portuguese focus were laced with creative references to art, architecture, cuisine, and design. And accurately so.

What I found was that among the sometimes tragic beauty of "old Porto", there are modern galleries, innovative restaurants, and boutique hostels that tell a more optimistic story. These were my favorite venues:

On my first day, by the time I got from the airport to my hostel, I was more than ready for lunch. Lucky for me, Bugo Art Burger was right down the street. Made with local ingredients in very creative ways, these burgers--beef, fish, black bean, chicken, lentil, etc.--are served alongside fresh sides like roasted julienned vegetables, green mesclun salad, and hand-cut french fries. I ordered the chickpea burger (prepared with feta cheese, onion, and fresh coriander) with the yogurt and mint sauce, the sides described above, and a Super Bock (a standard Portuguese beer). Fresh bread with an olive oil & vinegar dip came, too for a small price.

So small, in fact, that even with a black espresso for dessert, my bill was just shy of eleven euros. This kind of price "discrepancy" was true throughout the country; beneficial for budget visitors like me.

Following lunch, and a 4-hour hike stroll through the city (photos here), I intended to retreat to that hostel of mine. Then I realized I'd misplaced the key. The "key" was, in fact, a white and inconspicuous card I'd placed in my coat pocket alongside my iPhone. I'd noticed it seemed to jump out each time I reached for my phone throughout the day, but apparently I hadn't realized the one time it'd fallen on the ground. So, I retraced each step. I also went through my iPhone photos and paid special attention to the ground at each spot I'd photographed. No luck. Please note: I was in the city center at rush hour. And it's only when I was just about to give up, leaning against the same wall I'd leaned on at least two hours before, that I noticed it, at my feet.

Relief swept over me. A celebration was in order! ...if only I had someone to celebrate with. Since I didn't, at least not at that time, I headed back in the direction of my hostel. That is, until I saw Linha 22.

It just oozed quaint-contemporary cool. There was a sign outside inviting passer-bys in for a glass of Portuguese wine or a snack. I wanted the former. I walked in and sat down at the first table. A women came up to me with a smile, and asked me what I'd like, first in Portuguese, then in English. I told her I preferred dry reds but didn't know Duomo wines well. No, thank you, I didn't want anything to eat. She returned with a delicious 3-euro glass.

She even waited around as I told my victorious story and pretended to be enthusiastic about my luck, too. And soon after she left me to revel in that fact, she sent over a Portuguese cheese tasting, just because.

Extra positive interactions like these continued throughout my trip. I found Portuguese people to be extremely helpful and kind, always willing to answer my questions, whether or not their English was "very good." The same was true of all the staff that worked at my hostel. They suggested I visit the Mercado Ferreira Borges, a Beaux-Arts-style covered market which has since become Hard Club, a bookstore, exhibition space, restaurant, patio bar, and concert hall (pictured above), in addition to the Center of Photography. Un/fortunately, I didn't make it to the latter due to two exceptionally sunny days that kept me from most indoor activities. I got my art-fix by window-shopping at the galleries along Rua Miguel Bombard instead.

It's no wonder my choice of lodging, located on that same street, was called Gallery Hostel. Situated within a renovated early 20th century building, the space itself hosts more than just backpackers in dorms, it features a bar, cinema lounge, library, garden, karaoke nights, football match parties, wine tastings, and tours. At the time of my visit, they also had a collective exhibition by Rita Stravinsky and Aurelia Brysch on display.

And have I mentioned their breakfast? Fantastic. A spread of Portuguese bakery-sliced breads, fruit salads, deli meats, cheeses, and spreads--like butter, jam, and Nutella--were available each morning until 10:30am. Coffee and a variety of teas could be found to the right. Eggs or sausage were served on request. It's probably the best "free" breakfast I've ever had. I only had two qualms: no fresh juice, nor community.

One of the biggest appeals to the hostel (for me as a solo traveler) was that it was best "for meeting people." I'm disappointed to say that I didn't find that to be true. The other women in my 6-person dorm were nice enough but hardly friendly, and the groups I met at in the dining room pretty much kept to themselves. By my third morning in Porto, I was painfully aware of how lonely I felt. Thankfully, I had a train ticket to Pombal that evening, not to mention the most lovely company in a tour of the Duoro Valley before then. Stay tuned...

fitting into the city of squares

Morning, sunshines. Today I've got yet another Plates from Around the World guest to welcome: Miss Mackenzie. This lovely lady is one of those wonderfully unique and warm souls that forever inspires me with her eloquent words and artistic eye. Like myself, she has found a new home away from home, and has done it so with such grace. I hope you enjoy her guest post as much as I do!

I think there's an art to feeling at home with strangers. If there's anything I've learned by moving to Cambridge, Massachusetts it would be that very lesson. When Danielle approached me to write a "Plates From Around the World" post I couldn't help but remember how I spent my most favorite Valentine's night eating "hippie" food in a cozy dining table at a little co-op in Cambridge with mostly strangers.

I joke to my friends that I go to school at Emerson for academic reasons, but I go to Harvard for social reasons. Emerson isn't  predominantly nerdy, so for the girl who thought it'd be fun to take pre-calculus one summer so she could take calculus her senior year of high school, I get along with Harvard kids really well. For the girl who lives directly between MIT and Harvard, I definitely find Cambridge to be my home of sorts This is why I was beyond pumped to spend my Valentine's night with one of my favorite smarty-pants Harvardians, Jane, at Dudley Co-op.

We got there early and were immediately submerged in beet-cutting, potato-mashing, and for me, secret Earth Balance butter-eating. I never said I was ladylike. Here I was, elbow to elbow to mostly strangers, making edamame-orange salad, a leek soup, and freshly baked bread, getting delightfully messy with the reddish ink of beet juice staining my palms. 

There's something about mismatched mugs, your favorite poems littering the walls, and smiling faces that can make you feel so at home with strangers. I spent the last year prancing around the U.S. and I found a little nugget of home when all three of those things were in tact. Cozy San Francisco hostels are teeming with mugs brought by forgetful travelers, and their streets oddly had some favorite Ferlinghetti poems embedded in the concrete. Chicago is home to the smiliest of people I've ever encountered. Cambridge has only solidified this theory of mine. 

We feasted on roasted beets, fresh-baked bread, leek soup, and a salad of edamame and orange that I legitimately dreamt about for at least a week and a half.  We dined, as college students are wont to do, under a canopy of old CDs and knick-knacks. I knew only two people there, but by the end of the night I had one of the most beautiful food babies, a successful single-ladies Valentine's day for the third time in a row, and I might have snuck out a few more pieces of bread. And Jane and her other outdoorsy friend might have had a mock utility knife-fight that I then felt compelled to document. Once again, I never said I was ladylike. Not in the slightest.

Do you not just want to run away to Cambridge and dine with this eclectic crew right now? I know I do. Especially Mackenzie. And I'd invite Holly too because she's the one that virtually first introduced us. What a blast we would have, no April's Fools required. In other aspirational topics, if you'd like to contribute to the Plates from Around the World series, please email me your favorite foodie place along with a description and photos. Now, go off and enjoy your weekend. You've most certainly earned it.

blooming in boquete

Boquete is made up of a pretty affluent diverse community of retirees, expats, and Panamanians. As such, there were wonderful little places like Sugar & Spice. And it happened to be located directly in front of our hostel. Breakfast jackpot.

I enjoyed a plate of seasoned scrambled eggs, three chunks of country bread which I topped with butter and fresh marmalade, and perfectly brewed coffee with cream. Perfectly satisfied, we then decided to walk around our little mountain town a bit.

The homes are beautiful but very private and protected by guard dogs.

Thankfully, we stumbled upon a public garden. 

 

I obviously loved it. Next? Mid-afternoon errands.

A barber shop clean-up and an authentic lunch. 

What you see above is mixed rice, root vegetable salad, pinto beans, and tomato salad. 'Twas absolutely delicious and a whole $2.00.

Afterwards, we ventured to the fair grounds to admire the annual celebration.

The Garden Club of Boquete really did a beautiful job.

Following our day of floral adventures, we went back to the hostel to rest and wash up before dinner time. For three weeks I had gone into a meal situation with a mind of budget and health, but being as I was leaving in a few days (more details to come) the boys and I decided we should go all out. We did, it was amazing, and not nearly as expensive as we'd planned. I'll save that dining story is for tomorrow though, get excited :) really, really.

bocas del toro: dos

Tuesday in Bocas was a great one. I slept in after a night out which was a treat in and of itself. We had an air-conditioned room too :) delightful.

Then I had a strawberry banana batitdo with hemp protein from Bocas Blended, conveniently located right around the corner from our hostel. Delish. Although I certainly enjoy an authentic meal experience, I loved that there were so many expat restaurant options too.

After a couple of hours of work, we got our shit (excuse my French) together and headed south on Isla Colon.

It was a $5 round trip bus ride through the winding roads of plantations.

But eventually, we got here.

And saw this.

We'd made it to Starfish beach, and it was beautiful. The sun was bright, the sand was soft, the water was clear and many a shade of blue.

We sought a private pocket of beach to set up camp.

And then we made our way full force into the lagoon. There were hardly any waves and it was shallow for miles, or so it seemed.

Following an hour of swimming, we explored further down the beach to find out why oh why it had it's named.

Within 20 minutes we saw 'em. Big, orange, and beautiful, there were starfish seemingly everywhere. I've never seen anything like it.

It was a seemingly perfect day. We headed back to the bus around five to head home, shower, and move on to happy hour. But, paradise had different plans for us.

We missed our bus. In our hour and a half wait, we chose to dine. I couldn't have been happier.

Mmm, grilled mackerel, salad, coconut rice and beans, fried plantains.

Satisfied, we sat at the bus stop chatting. Or rather, they sat chatting and I walked around taking photos like it was my job. I just couldn't help myself.

I also dabbled in a bit of toe sketching. What do ya think? ;)

Like I said, a seemingly perfect day. Until Wednesday came along...