Illustrator's Sketch‑Spree in Porto
i woke up with the alarm sounding like a cheap synth, half‑the‑beat, half‑the‑mood. coffee? i went for espresso with a side of “i’m a walking sketchbook” vibe. the day started at sunrise, i walked out of the hostel and onto the cobblestone that feels like someone forgot to smooth it out. the early light didn’t bother the humidity, it was still 24.9°C (feels like 24.7°C) and the air stayed at 48% humidity-just enough to make my marker bleed a little. i just checked that the pressure sits at a solid 1013 hPa, feels like the city’s breathing steady. if you get bored, the seaside town of Matosinhos or the historic hill of Miragaia are just a short drive away. (i’m still not sure whether that’s a relief or a warning.)
the map in my pocket says “north‑west” but my legs say “just walk, you’ll find a mural”. i put this in the iframe:
. (yeah, it looks like a tiny ocean of traffic but that’s fine.)
first stop: the Ribeira market, the smell of fresh fish, old cheese, and someone’s open sketchbook. there was a vendor shouting “alfine, alfine!” (that’s the only Portuguese i remember). the paper i used was a cheap A5, but i decided to treat it like a canvas because the rain might not show up until later. some blockquote that stuck:
"yeah, the guy who runs the vintage shop told me the clothespins are from the 70s, but they still hold like fresh."
- it made me think of the little torn edges of my pages.
next, the street art. i found a wall that looks like a giant patchwork of neon crayons. i set up a stool, a water bottle, and a bunch of colored pencils. the graffiti tags were chaotic, perfect for my style. i heard a drunken tip from a local who slid past the wall:
"they said the night bus takes you to the cliffs, but don’t trust the driver; he’s probably just there to sell you a souvenir."
- i wrote that down, just in case i need a cliff.
one random blockquote of overheard gossip:
"something i overheard at the museum: the curator’s cat loves fish, not tourists."
- i can’t verify, but i’m keeping the pencil close to the canvas just in case.
the weather kept the marker from drying too fast. humidity 48% is a sweet spot for wet ink and graphite. the temperature made my fingers warm enough to draw lines without shaking. i love that kind of thing. my sketchbook filled with quick silhouettes of the old trams, the basalt cliffs, the distant lighthouse. i think i even drew a tiny cat that looks suspiciously like the museum’s feline.
for gear, i didn’t have a fancy kit. just my Moleskine, a cheap mechanical pencil, and a pocket‑size watercolor set. the indie vibe is more about mood than gear. a coffee snob would have laughed, but the espresso from Café Luso was just strong enough to keep my brain from fading into the grey.
someone told me that the best coffee shop actually hides the latte art behind a wall of outdated posters. i found that true at “Café de Avenida”. the latte looks like a tiny sunrise, but you have to peer through a collage of 80’s flyers. here’s a link: Porto Riverfront on TripAdvisor and here: Aquario Porto on Yelp and also check the local Reddit thread /r/PortugalTravel for hidden alley tips and a guide on Travel Portugal’s Porto City Guide.
i also discovered a tiny indie zine stall by the tram stop. the owner showed me a copy of “Sketch‑and‑Soul”, a flip‑through with stories from illustrators who had spent a night in the city. the shop’s Wi‑Fi password is “manu58”, apparently a reference to the city’s old lighthouse. i heard a rumor that typing that password on the museum’s Wi‑Fi gave you a hidden QR code linking to an extra gallery. (i’m not sure if that’s true, but i’m going to test it later.)
the vibe of Porto is messy, like a scribbled doodle that hasn’t been cleaned up. the streets have their own rhythm-trams rumbling, waves crashing, locals shouting about soccer. if you’re an illustrator, you’ll feel the pulse in the bricks and the neon. i can’t help but think of the phrase “the city writes on you”. (maybe that’s too poetic, but it’s true.)
i took a few photos for the blog, because you can’t have a travel post without at least one good snap. here are three images:
i ended the day at a rooftop bar where the view of the Douro River looked like a long ribbon of ink. i ordered a cocktail named “Midnight Brushstroke”, the bartender said it’s a blend of gin, blackberry and a splash of tonic that “brushes” across your palate. i tried to sketch the glass with a pen, but the cocktail’s heat melted the ink before i could finish the line. that’s a new kind of challenge.
the night got loud, but i’m used to that. the city’s noise gives me a rhythm, the same way a metronome keeps a drummer’s heart on track. i walked back to my hostel, still buzzing from the caffeine and the sketch, the weather staying steady, the humidity still holding my markers.
maybe I’ll go back tomorrow, because i heard there’s a secret mural that only appears at dusk, and i need a fresh set of pencils. until then, the city’s been a playground of charcoal, coffee, and rumors.