From Pastel de Nata to the Camino: 3 Days in Porto

I only spent three days in Porto, a short stopover on my way to London, but somehow, it felt like time slowed down there.

I checked into the NH Collection Porto Batalha, my room overlooking the beautiful São João National Theater, a view that made even unpacking feel cinematic. Porto has that kind of charm, it’s both grand and intimate, a city that makes you feel like you’ve wandered into someone’s memory.

Wandering & Serendipity

My first full day started with no plan at all. I set out to wander, camera in hand, and stumbled upon a tuk-tuk guide who offered me a city tour. I said yes, and it turned out to be one of the best decisions of the trip.

For the next few hours, we zigzagged through the cobblestone streets, past São Bento Station, with its mesmerizing azulejo tiles, and across several lookout points where the bridges stretched over the Douro River like ribbons of steel and light.

We stopped in Ribeira Square, visited the Chapel of Souls, crossed into Gaia, and even popped into The Fantastic World of the Portuguese Sardine. Somewhere in between, I spotted the Trash Rabbit, a massive piece of street art made from recycled materials, one of those little moments that reminds you how creativity hides in plain sight.

I had lunch at Mercado do Bolhão, surrounded by the hum of locals and clinking glasses, then retreated to my hotel for a quick rest. Later that evening, I wandered again, this time to the Vintage Camera Museum, where I couldn’t resist snapping a strip of photos in their old-school photobooth. I ended the night with a late bite at what’s rumored to be the most beautiful McDonald’s in the world, all chandeliers and stained glass.

Stories & Sweet Things

The next morning started with a visit to Livraria Lello, the famously ornate bookstore that’s said to have inspired J.K. Rowling. I picked up a few treasures, Sanditon and Mansfield Park by Jane Austen, the kind of souvenirs that don’t take up space but stay with you.

From there, I joined a Six Bridges Cruise, gliding along the Douro as the city shimmered on both sides. The sun caught the tile facades just right, blue, gold, terracotta, and for a moment, I forgot this was just a stopover.

Just before my pastel de nata class, I stopped at a small café nearby, Bó, Tá Quente. I ordered a glass of wine and a traditional Portuguese sandwich, nothing fancy, just real and comforting. The freshly made bread was divine, warm, soft, and perfectly crisp on the edges. I could have eaten that bread all day. The place buzzed softly with locals chatting over coffee, and I sat there, soaking in that familiar joy of having nowhere else to be.

That evening, I ended my Porto chapter with the cooking class itself. There’s something grounding about learning to bake in a new city, measuring, whisking, waiting the simple rhythm of it all. And when the pastries came out golden and warm, I thought, this is what travel tastes like.

A Sign Along the Way

Throughout my time in Porto, I kept noticing the Camino shell symbol etched into sidewalks and mounted on walls, quietly guiding pilgrims toward Santiago. Each time I saw it, I felt a small pull, like the city was gently reminding me of something I’ve carried in the back of my mind for years.

I’ve long dreamed of walking the Camino de Santiago, the quiet, the reflection, the miles that turn into meaning. One afternoon, I found myself standing at the starting point of the Camino, watching a few travelers set off with their backpacks and walking sticks. It stopped me in my tracks. There was something both ordinary and deeply moving about it. By the time I left Porto, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this trip was a sign that the Camino is calling, and someday might need to happen soon.

Porto might have only been a three-day detour, but it reminded me why I love traveling solo: no plans, no rush, just the joy of saying yes to what finds you.

Because that’s what Travel Beach Love is all about: chasing experiences that move you, even in the smallest ways. Thank you, Porto, for the quiet beauty, the pastel de nata crumbs, and the reminder that even stopovers can become destinations of their own.