If you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all. How many times have I heard that disparaging phrase when it comes to cathedrals. I’m afraid it’s so not true. If the first cathedral you ever visited was the one in Porto, and you never went to another, you would indeed miss out on a lot of the beauty in the world. If you decided to go to the one in Porto, thinking to yourself that you’ve ticked off a fine example of cathedral lore, then you would be utterly wrong.

This must be the ugliest, heaviest, uninspiring place of worship in the world. So so disappointing.

Porto Cathedral, known locally as Sé do Porto, is a timeless monument deeply embedded in the city’s history and religious heritage. Recognized as one of Porto’s oldest monuments, it showcases a unique convergence of Romanesque, Gothic, and Baroque architectural styles. 

So its website says. But has nothing more to offer about the cathedral itself. It is set on top of a hill. We climbed a lot of steps to get there and were surprised to hear a saxophonist playing the Polish national anthem. Badly but recognisably. We walked round to find the entrance, paid for senior tickets (funny how no one ever questions us now) and followed the sign to the cloisters. 14th century. Absolutely magnificent. The beautiful blue azulejo tiling everywhere. It all boded well.

This was a lovely place – we didn’t attempt the top layer but went inside instead

I couldn’t capture the heaviness or oppressiveness of it. I did like some of the medieval statues, but they were hard to focus on.

This one was sweet. Our Lady teaching Jesus to read.

Sadly I could feel no sense of prayer, or spirituality or holiness. There was no sanctuary lamp. Although it is an active church, its museumness outweighed everything else.

We left. I said I would not go down by the steps. We found ourselves on a big square with some lovely views

We decided to go towards it. Did I say I wouldn’t go down any more stairs? We chose a path that looked likely. How wrong could we be?

Five hundred stone steps later we had descended to river level. I don’t know how long it took but it felt interminable. Every few flights we turned a corner. More steps. We didn’t meet anyone coming up. I wonder why!

We were exhausted and hungry but the river bank was full of restaurants.

We chose one at random, without great hopes, sat down and proceeded to have one of the nicest meals ever. This was partly due to the waiter, a volley ball playing Brazilian who was charm itself. Nothing was too much for him. Not just with us. But when I asked for an ice cream he said I could buy one next door and bring it back. I pulled a face. He said I’ll get if for you and he did! When I needed to use the facilities he led me there in a most sonly way. He was delightful.

Jacek had rabbit but not as decorative. Delicious though.

We got a taxi home and after a well deserved nap we set off again.

We found the 1920s piano bar Majestic which had been recommended and thought we’d stay for a snack. The pianist was the same as the one on Guarany on Saturday night but the piano had a horrible sound. Very clunky. The same tunes but nowhere near as romantic. The menu had nothing to offer either but we did have some delicious white port and the place itself was gorgeous.

And so back to the search for supper. We found a place called Glow. Half sushi, half western food. We had two different kinds of risotto which were very nice. But the nicest thing of all was that it was surprisingly a very child friendly place. Lots of gorgeous babies and toddlers. All so well behaved. It was after nine o’clock and I was missing my grandson!

So. That’s my day! More to come I expect!