Day 4 - Portugal: Obidos and Lisbon

Bom dia!

We set off from Porto in the morning, making our way south toward the medieval town of Óbidos. Along the route, we stopped for lunch at a buffet restaurant — Restaurante Lisboa XL in Caldas da Rainha.Before we all made a beeline for the buffet tables, we were served a hearty and delicious soup called Sopa da Pedra — a rich, rustic Portuguese stone soup brimming with beans, vegetables, and chouriço.

The soup apparently has a legend behind it. The story comes from Almeirim, Portugal. A poor friar, too proud to beg for food, arrives in a village carrying nothing but a smooth stone. He asks for a pot and claims he will make “stone soup.” Curious, the villagers gather to watch.

As the friar begins cooking, he casually suggests, “It would taste better with a bit of onion…” and someone offers one. Then he mentions carrots, beans, chouriço, and meat—each time, another villager contributes.

By the end, the pot is full of a rich, hearty soup, made possible by everyone’s generosity. The stone? It remains in the pot, but is never eaten.

It was a nice way of sampling a variety of Portuguese dishes — hearty stews, grilled meats, fresh seafood, and plenty of local sides — though unfortunately, all the labels were in Portuguese, so I had no idea what I was eating!

Óbidos

Óbidos is a charming medieval town in central Portugal, known for its well-preserved castle, cobbled streets, and whitewashed houses adorned with colorful flowers. Surrounded by ancient walls, the town has a rich history: originally a Roman settlement, it later became a Moorish stronghold before being captured by the Christians in the 12th century. From the 13th century onward, Óbidos was traditionally given as part of the queen’s dowry to successive Portuguese queens, earning it the nickname “The Town of Queens.” Over the centuries, its castle and walls were expanded and fortified, preserving the town’s medieval charm for visitors today.

Funny enough, the temperatures in Óbidos were around 81°F (27°C) — cooler than Malaysia, where it’s usually around 86°F–95°F (30–35°C) — and yet it felt so much hotter! I was burning badly, so thank goodness I brought an umbrella for some much-needed shade.

From Óbidos, we rolled into Lisbon.

LISBON

Lisbon really is built on seven hills! And my legs confirm it.

You always hear people say Lisbon is built on seven hills. I thought it was just one of those pretty phrases travel guides like to use… until I actually walked it. Let me tell you — Lisbon takes its hills very seriously.

Everywhere you go, it’s either uphill, downhill, or “wait, why is this street suddenly a staircase?” But that's exactly what gives the city its charm. These seven hills shape everything: the twisting lanes, the way buildings perch on cliffs like they’re holding on for dear life, and of course the postcard-perfect viewpoints (miradouros) that just appear out of nowhere when you turn a corner gasping for air.

The funny thing is, Lisbonians have been dealing with this terrain for centuries, so they invented all sorts of clever ways to stop people from collapsing halfway through — trams, funiculars, even the dramatic Santa Justa Lift that looks like it came straight out of a Victorian novel. All designed for one purpose: saving everyone’s knees.

So yes, Lisbon is indeed the “City of Seven Hills,” and after walking around, I’m convinced every single one found a way into my itinerary. But honestly? The views from the top make all the panting, sweating, and uphill questioning-of-life absolutely worth it.

If you ever visit, just remember this simple tip:

Wear good shoes… and maybe stretch first.

These statues, situated in Praça dos Restauradores are the work of Sergio Stichini. They depict two craftsmen who lay the cobblestones that pave Lisbon’s streets—a striking tribute to the often unseen hands that help make the city beautiful.

Chafariz do Carmo

Tucked into Largo do Carmo, this 18th-century fountain once brought water into the city through the Águas Livres Aqueduct. Its arches, carved dolphins, and Lioz limestone are easy to miss at first glance, but it’s one of those quiet corners where Lisbon’s history lingers.

Sofia

You’ll find her right in front of the Santa Justa Elevator—this lilac-coloured woman called Sofia, casually holding a crumb vacuum as if she’s just stepped out of a quirky dream. She appeared here in 2022, left quietly by the mysterious Portuguese artist known only as Superlinox (often called a local Banksy).

Sofia’s a bit of a character. According to the artist, she’s a woman “full of conviction, self-esteem and self-respect… a diva with a cleaning craze.” Hence the tiny vacuum—she supposedly hates crumbs.

Lisbon’s little mustard-yellow trams are one of the city’s sweetest charms. They rattle through the narrow, winding streets with so much character, as if they’ve been carrying stories for a hundred years — which some of them actually have. What I love most is how these tiny old trams somehow hold their own in a modern city. They’re cheerful, stubborn, and full of personality — a bit like Lisbon itself.

Praça do Comércio 

Praça do Comércio was the site of a dramatic moment in Portuguese history: in 1908, King Carlos I and his heir Luís Filipe were assassinated here, an event that shook the nation and helped bring an end to the monarchy.

O Mundo Fantástico da Sardinha Portuguesa

Remember that sardine shop in Gaia that had me grinning? Lisbon made sure the fun continued.

 Walking in is like stepping into a place part carnival, part circus, and a sprinkle of Willy Wonka magic—if Willy Wonka had traded chocolate for shimmering tins of fish. Each shelf bursts with tins in every color, pattern, and personality imaginable, from glittering retro designs to cheeky modern illustrations that make you smile.

The humble sardine here takes center stage, turned into a cultural icon with all the whimsy and charm of a vintage fair.

I bought a tin that caught my eye—not for the fish inside, but for the utterly beautiful packaging. Once home, I realized it was too gorgeous to open. Now it sits proudly in my display cabinet, right alongside all my other treasured souvenirs, a tiny, whimsical reminder of Portugal’s playful charm.

FUN FACT

Sardines aren’t just food in Portugal—they’re a national symbol. Every June, during Festas de Santo António (Festivals of Saint Anthony), Lisbon’s streets fill with music, grilled sardines, and colorful decorations celebrating this beloved fish.

During the festivals, sardines are everywhere—on plates, hanging from streets, and even in songs. According to legend, Saint Anthony went to the water’s edge to preach when people weren’t listening, and fish rose to the surface to “hear” him. This story adds a touch of myth to the sardine’s big cultural role.

DINNER @ Adega Da Mó

We were served what looked like a giant pot of risotto… but not quite. It turned out to be Arroz de Marisco, Portugal’s soul-warming seafood rice. Think of it as a cross between a risotto and a cosy stew — loose, brothy, and full of flavour.

The rice comes soaking in a tomatoey base laced with garlic, onions and white wine, and every spoonful carries the sweetness of the sea. Prawns, mussels, clams, squid… it’s a whole little ocean gathered in one bubbling pot. A sprinkle of fresh coriander on top and that’s it — pure comfort, the kind of dish you slow down for and savour.

An entire day of exploring Lisbon had us happily worn out, and dinner at Adega da Mo felt like the perfect way to wind things down. Good food, easy atmosphere, and that lovely Lisbon glow — the kind of end that ties a full day together without trying too hard.

Day 3 - Portugal: Porto and Gaia

We caught a 6:15 AM Vueling flight from Barcelona to Porto after a 4:00 AM wake-up call and a light snack packed to go. By the time we landed, the sun was just rising over the city, casting long shadows across the curved concrete overpasses outside the airport. We stepped into the cool morning light, where our coach waited beneath sweeping arches and sleepy silhouettes. 

 The first breath of Porto, still wrapped in shadow and promise.

Our Porto adventure kicked off with rumbling tummies and a warm welcome at Café Bom Gosto, where we got our first taste of pastel de nata—flaky, creamy, and just enough to tide us over until the promised pilgrimage to the legendary Pastéis de Belém later in the trip.

Fueled by breakfast, we set off for the Dom Luís I Bridge, ready to take in Porto from one of its most iconic viewpoints.

Dom Luis Bridge

Panoramic views of the Douro River and cityscape.

My Porto gallimaufry

 Estação de São Bento (São Bento Railway Station)

Estação de São Bento is one of Porto’s most beautiful landmarks — a train station that feels more like an art gallery than a transit hub. Step inside and you’re greeted by over 20,000 azulejos (hand-painted ceramic tiles) depicting Portugal’s history — from royal battles to scenes of rural life. Designed by Jorge Colaço in the early 1900s, these blue-and-white murals took 11 years to complete.

The azulejos at São Bento are stunning. History told in blue and white, with so much detail you could stare for hours.

Rua das Flores

Largo de São Domingos

Lunch @ City Wok

A medley of flavors at City Wok—Asian, Mediterranean, and Argentine.

Next, our coach rolled across the lower deck of the Dom Luís I Bridge into Gaia for a boat cruise on the Douro.

Vila Nova de Gaia

The Douro cleaves Porto from Gaia, its waters glinting beneath six graceful bridges that span the divide. On one bank, Porto rises in a mosaic of tiled rooftops, bell towers, and lively quays; on the other, Gaia unfolds in hushed streets and storied wine lodges. Two cities, facing each other across the river—one vibrant, one serene.

The cities looked different from the water—rooftops stacked like postcards, bridges stretching overhead, and quiet corners we hadn’t seen on foot. 

Gaia and Porto from the water. 

Stepping out of the boat after the enchanting cruise, we stumbled upon a sardine shop that felt like walking onto a mini-carnival set on Broadway—bright, theatrical, and full of quirky surprises. But that experience deserves its own story, for another post.

O Mundo Fantástico da Sardinha Portuguesa

We made our way across the bridge again, this time on foot, toward Ribeira.

Porto's colorful Ribeira

The Dinner That Almost was.

That red building in the middle? Ode Porto Wine House.

After a scenic boat ride on the Douro, our group of 30 explored the Ribeira area—wandering its alleys, soaking in the river views, and chasing the golden light. We were meant to reconvene at Ode Porto Wine House—a charming spot tucked into Ribeira’s historic heart. It was supposed to be our dinner highlight. But when we arrived, the doors were firmly shut and locked, with no sign of welcome.

We waited. And waited.
It turned into quite a long, uncertain pause, with thirty of us clustered awkwardly on a slope, squeezed between Ribeira’s tightly packed buildings. There was barely room to stand, let alone regroup. We must have looked like a flash mob gone rogue—half hopeful, half hungry—until a local finally broke the silence:
“You are aware that you need a reservation to get in?”
Turns out, our tour manager had sent the booking request from Malaysia, but the restaurant never received it. Miscommunication, missed email—whatever the reason, we were stranded.

In Porto (and across Portugal and Spain), reservations aren’t just polite—they’re essential, especially for groups. Most restaurants won’t seat large parties without advance notice, and even splitting up doesn’t guarantee success. Many places operate on a reservation-only basis during peak hours.

We were hungry. We needed toilets. And we needed a plan.

That’s when Morocco Shisha Bar became our unexpected savior. No food, but drinks and restrooms—enough to regroup and salvage the evening. Quite an experience for us, as none of us had ever been to a shisha bar before—and it turned out to be a very cozy place. Eventually, we landed at McDonald’s. Not the dinner we imagined, but a story we’ll never forget.

I 🧡🧡🧡 Porto

There’s something soulful about Porto, but it’s along the Cais da Ribeira where the city truly sings. Music is never far — always a stone’s throw away. A busker strums his guitar from a shaded corner, a violinist plays by the promenade, his open case catching coins and smiles, and someone’s voice rises in a melodious serenade, basking in the golden light. Every now and then, you’ll even catch the faint strain of fado floating from a nearby bar — that unmistakable, yearning Portuguese soulfulness that wraps around you like a story sung in moonlight. It’s not just background noise — it’s the rhythm of the riverfront, the pulse of a city that wears its heart on its sleeve. I love how Porto invites you to pause, listen, and feel part of something timeless