Cultural Notes -- Portugal

Just some random things I've observed living in Portugal for almost a month.

The Portuguese love their wooden floors.  I haven’t seen carpeting in any of my rentals and only rarely have I seen floor rugs.

There are not enough outlets to go around.  In every place I’ve stayed, it’s been a hunt to find a place to plug in the computer.  The apartment in Ponta do Sol had a tap in the kitchen since there was only one plug and yet three appliances on the counter (microwave, coffee maker, and toaster.)  It’s really bad in that, unlike American outlets, when you do find an outlet, you don’t get one on top of the other.  You only get one, so you really have to prioritize.  On a side note, there is WiFi everywhere and the service has been great.  No issues or dropped connections – very convenient for anyone trying to WFH.

The technology on a whole has been a challenge.  Using online manuals has helped, but even then, the design of some of these devices is just confusing.  Particularly the laundry machines.  It’s one thing to have the labels in Portuguese (to be expected) but why are there so many options?  I just want to de-funktify my clothes and not destroy anything.  Why is that so hard?  

Therefore, I was doubly grateful that the machine in Ponta do Sol was nearly identical to the machine I had in Georgia.

I’ve always said that every microwave oven is just different enough to make you pause in figuring them out.  That thought has been proven by just moving around this one small country.  Each first bowl of oatmeal I nuked was purely experimental.  How much time would it need?  Would the cereal bubble over?  Is this bowl microwaveable?  So far so good, though – no explosions or spillovers (thank goodness).

The stovetops have mostly been gas, which is fine.  Most have to be lit by hand, which is fine.  The problem comes with regulating the flame or dealing with a stove with tricky handles that shuts off the flame unexpectedly.  I never could figure out the one convection stovetop I had in Lisbon.  I’d bought some eggs thinking I could scramble them for breakfast.  That idea was a bust and the next renters ended up with some free eggs.

The hosts are not fans of face cloths.  This one kind of bothered me.  I’m trying to wash my face in the morning and there is nothing around.  I don’t want to wet a hand towel to do this, so I eventually bought some microfiber towels for this purpose (always good to travel with those anyway).

Guess what?  Portugal observes daylight savings time.  It never occurred to me to check beforehand.  I just ended up confused when my travel clock no longer aligned with the computer/phone.  Only then did I do a search on DST in Europe.  Because of the different time zones, Portugal springs ahead an hour 2 weeks after the states.  The more you know.

Recycling bins are prominently displayed on the streets, in the mall, all over the place.  Conservation in all resources is encouraged to reduce waste.  If a restaurant offers you a straw, it’s made of paper.  Fast food joints will also not include a plastic lid on the drink.  The cutlery, if not actual metal, is made from wood. 

These &*(&&^( things are a blight on this island.  They are EVERYWHERE.  In Ponta do Pargo, I had to leave one table at a restaurant because the things were swarming around my feet and even climbing on the table.  In Funchal, I’d be slowly taking the stairs (because all Portuguese stairs kind of scare me – many are uneven and made of stone) and then one of these little %$^$$&(s will skitter right in front of me and throw me off.  Fortunately, they don’t seem to make their way into the buildings (being off the ground floor helps).  But, seriously, screw these things.

Octopus is very big there.  It’s featured on salads, as appetizers, it’s even on pizza.  As interesting as they are to look at, the thought of putting one in my face is scary.  That is all.

About the language.  When I decided that I wanted to go expat, I initially wanted to move somewhere English was widely spoken.  Portugal fits that bill, but there’s no way I’m moving to a foreign country and not learning the language.  That might be even harder than I originally thought.  Listening to people’s conversations, sometimes it sounds like Spanish (the two languages have some of the same words and phrases while still being very different) and sometimes, I swear, it sounds like Russian.  I can’t get a bead on the cadence.  Granted, my brain is old and learning languages wasn’t my forte even in my youth.  I took French in high school and Spanish in college, but I’m not fluent in either.  Hopefully, being immersed in the culture long enough, something will finally sink in.

And I do want to be a part of this culture.  These people aren’t angry or rude just for the sake of it.  They live surrounded by beauty and family and friends and don’t even seem bothered by all the tourists.  I had lunch in a café and the manager, Maria, struck up a conversation.  She asked where I was from and she told me about her years as a cruise director.  I told her I was seriously considering moving here after my travels.  Instead of giving me the side eye thinking “yeah, a lot of people say that but never move” or “oh, no, another entitled expat to deal with”,  I got none of that suspicion or distain.  Instead, I got tips.  She told me that it could be rainy in the winters and the hills could be awful to walk (yeah, no kidding).  But, she said if I were retired or working remotely, why wouldn’t I want to live here?  No negativity, no hesitation, just good vibes.  I want to live in a place that encourages that.