The rain had disappeared but in its place was overcast skies and cooler weather. Still, most of my day/night would be indoors so not that big of a deal.

My first stop was at the famous Galeza which was a steep hike up the hill from me so I was pretty hungry when I got there. There was a line but this wasn’t place you linger too long so it moved fairly quickly.

People come here pretty much for only one thing – their take on a hotdog. In this version, it was a sausage with a spicy spread, topped with cheese and then hot pressed. They had several pressed going at once to speed up the process and then would quickly slice them in rows to serve. I paired mine with a Super Bock and small fries. The hotdog didn’t have quite the snap I like, but the combo was a good one. It paired nicely with my beer and fries. A solid lunch.

Afterwards, I headed down the street to a museum and church that has been recommended by my Douro guide to check out. I paid 10 Euros for the museum exhibits and access to the church and made my way up to the top floor to the portrait gallery, which featured people both associated with the church and supporting hospitals as well as their benefactors.

The museum itself was built in the late 1800s to house these portraits as well as artifacts from their collection, explaining the history of the Misericordia movement in Porto, which began with the construction of the church in the mid 1550s. Essentially the main purpose was to help the poor and the sick.

To showcase this era, the museum features several Renaissance works.

There were other rooms showing the more administrative end of things and eventually ended in this beautiful atrium, which had been built to hold discussions and performances.

I had the church to myself when I entered into the cool, large main room. The famous Portuguese tiles lined the walls and there was a massive wood-carved gate with a private space where I assume the priest would emerge to give the homily. The large, thick walls and windows made the space very quiet even with the busy street next to it.

Having been made right with God (that’s how it works, no?) I exited the church to wander around the trendy shops on the street, including stopping to watch some sort of performance from a local high school troupe.

The weather had turned pretty cold now so it was a perfect time to find a cafe for some hot chocolate. This version was quite different than the one I had in Lisbon, topped with a generous amount of whipped cream and a tasty cookie. It was exactly what was needed to give me a final boost back to my place.

My destination for dinner wasn’t too far distance-wise but it was straight up yet another steep hill. I channeled my inner San Franciscan, eventually landing at the top and then once last slight climb to Mito. The restaurant had recently won a Michelin Guide recommendation and was quickly becoming a local favorite. The menu was fairly small but with some very intriguing options including what I made my starter.

It was a playful twist on the pastel de nata but in this case the cream was actually mixed with bacon. I was surprised when I lifted the bite that the pastry was warm but the filling was cold. It made for a very interesting mix of tastes – salty and sweet, cold and warm that made my brain try to comprehend the dichotomies.

As soon as I saw one of the mains was a 20 day dry aged Ibérico pork chop that was the only option for me. I wasn’t prepared though for how it would plated and literally gasped when it arrived. I mean look at it! Much to my relief it wasn’t just expertly cooked but also perfectly seasoned, something that had been lacking elsewhere. The single best item I had so far on my trip. It was nicely paired with some tempura battered onion rings and tomato salad.

Knowing the long night I had ahead and the need not to overindulge, I declined dessert and headed back down (huzzah!) to my place to digest and relax for a bit.

At just before midnight, I made my up (sigh) and over to Plan B, a club where I would be seeing the legendary Gilles Peterson, a long-time BBC radio host and one of the first to bring world music to the masses. I had already gotten a ticket in advance so walked into what appeared to be some of lounge area but no DJ so quickly noticed the steep set of stairs that must lead to the dance floor.

I got there right when he started to the cheers of the crowd and danced my arse off for the next three hours as he expertly mixed everything from Afro house to acid jazz to disco to even some IDB and jungle. The system was Phazon so the bass shook the entire room and the sound was crystal clear. Truly a magical experience.

At 3AM on the dot, after finishing up with a jazz track from Portugal, Gilles got on the mic to thank everyone, and I took that as my cue to leave. The club’s other room was packed with a DJ playing some hideous mashup which gave me the strength to haul my very stiff body up the stairs and out of the club. The street was filled with Friday night revelers in various states of inebriation, including some sort of bachelorette stumbling their way down the main drag.

I gingerly walked back to my place and crashed, grateful I had remembers to bring my earplugs so I could still actually hear. Achieving my goal of getting in bed before sunrise, I went to sleep knowing that at least the day would be very easy later as I needed the time off.