This latest Out & About with Carol and Paul captures the quieter transition from winter into spring here in Portugal.

It’s been a season of rain, time at home, shared meals, and small outings along with a road trip to the Schist Village of Gondramaz. Not a dramatic season, perhaps, but a meaningful one in its own way.

Prefer watching on YouTube or saving for later? You can view this episode here.

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts. These videos continue to evolve based on your feedback and the experiences we’re living through here.

Leave a comment

Thanks for being on this Journey with me.

Thank you for reading Our Portugal Journey. This publication is free and open to everyone, and it exists thanks to the support of readers like you. If you’d like to receive new posts and help keep this work independent - and help support the research, time and travel that goes into it - you’re warmly invited to become a free or paid subscriber.

You can also buy me a coffee (or a glass of wine) anytime right here.

However you choose to support me, I’m truly grateful you’re here.

Until next time…

Obrigada!

Carol.

On an old poem and the life that followed it.

Dear Readers,

At its heart, Our Portugal Journey remains what it has always been—a publication rooted in Portugal, travel, culture, food, place, and the everyday experience of building a life here.

That is not changing.

But over time, I’ve come to understand that some of the writing that matters most to me doesn’t always begin with a destination, a village, or a journey outward. Sometimes it begins in a quieter place—in reflection, memory, uncertainty, and the small emotional truths that sit just beneath ordinary life.

That is where The Wider Quiet begins.

This is an occasional space for essays that don’t always fit neatly into the publication’s usual lanes, but still belong to the same voice, the same life, and the same way of paying attention.

Some pieces may begin in Portugal. Some may not. But all of them grow from the same thread: the part of this work that notices not only where we are, but what life is asking us to carry, question, or understand while we’re there.

If Our Portugal Journey is often about where we go and how we live, The Wider Quiet is for the thoughts that travel alongside us.

I’ll share pieces here from time to time, when they belong.

Carol.

There are certain things we write when we are young that stay with us, not because they are polished or profound, but because they contain something true that we somehow already knew.

Decades ago, I wrote a short poem called Castles in the Sand. I’ve carried it with me ever since.

When I read it now, I can still hear the younger voice behind it. But I also hear something else—an early understanding that dreams are often fragile, that life is never as permanent as we imagine, and yet still worth building with care.

Perhaps that is why I’ve never let it go.

It was written long ago, but it still feels, in its own small way, like an honest map of how I’ve tried to live.

Here it is, lightly polished, but still very much as I wrote it then.

Castles in the Sand

I’m going to build my dreams
from castles in the sand.
I’m going to make my life a reality—
and when my time is over
and all my dreaming is done,
I’ll watch the castles wash away
and leave me one by one.

At the time, I couldn’t possibly have known all the ways life would shift, undo itself, surprise me, and ask me to begin again. I didn’t yet know where I would live, what I would lose, what I would build, or how many times a person can quietly reinvent a life.

And yet, when I read those lines now, I recognize something familiar.

Even then, I seemed to understand that much of life is built from things that are not especially solid at the start—hope, longing, imagination, love, reinvention, courage, timing, luck.

We build anyway.

Perhaps that is all any of us have ever done.

We make homes, relationships, careers, identities, and stories from materials far more fragile than we admit at the time. We call them plans. We call them certainty. We call them the future.

But often, they are castles in the sand.

That does not make them foolish.

If anything, it may be what makes them precious.

There is something both humbling and comforting in realizing that so much of life is temporary, not because it makes things meaningless, but because it reminds us that permanence was never really the point.

The point, perhaps, is that we built something at all.

That we loved, tried, hoped, made, moved, risked, changed, stayed open, and shaped a life while we were here.

In time, the tide comes for all of it—the plans, the roles, the certainties, the versions of ourselves we once believed would last forever.

And still, we build.

That may be one of the quietest forms of courage there is.

When I wrote Castles in the Sand, I had no idea how long a few simple lines could follow a person.

I only know that they did.

And perhaps that is what old poems, old photographs, old letters, and old selves sometimes offer us—not nostalgia exactly, but recognition.

A reminder that even before we had the language for our lives, we were already trying to name them.

And sometimes, if we’re lucky, we discover that the younger voice was not wrong.

This piece is part of The Wider Quiet.

Dear Readers,

Traveling with pets, whether in past chapters of life or present journeys, changes the rhythm of travel in quiet and lasting ways.

You notice things differently; shaded terraces, quiet walking paths, the gentle pause before stepping into a café to see whether a wagging tail will be welcomed. What once felt spontaneous now becomes a little more intentional, and in many ways, that slower pace can deepen the experience of travel itself.

Paul and I are pet lovers. And although we’re no longer “pet parents,” we know what it’s like to travel with a four-legged companion or to move to a new home alongside one. Those experiences stay with you, shaping how you plan, how you move, and how you notice the world around you. It’s also a great way to meet people and start conversations.

Over the years, I’ve come to appreciate how the right resources can quietly support those moments. Not by dictating where we go, but by reducing the uncertainty that sometimes comes with traveling alongside an animal.

This isn’t a list of every pet resource available. Instead, think of it as a curated toolkit - tools that make traveling with pets smoother, calmer, and more enjoyable without overwhelming the journey.

Planning the Journey: All-in-One Pet Travel Apps

BringFido is one of the most widely used pet travel platforms, helping travelers locate pet-friendly hotels, cafés, parks, and attractions worldwide. Filters allow you to search by pet size, number of pets, or specific amenities. Rather than scrolling endlessly through reviews, BringFido offers a practical starting point when planning travel with animals. iOS | Android

Pawtrip blends travel planning with discovery, allowing users to explore pet-friendly destinations and experiences through a community-driven platform. It feels less like logistics and more like joining a network of travelers who move through the world with pets. iOS | Android (unavailable as of this writing)

The Pawtrip app also functions as a social platform where travelers share cafés, parks, and destinations that genuinely welcome pets. Think of it as a social layer for pet-friendly travel.

Kruiz - AI Pet Travel Guide - Kruiz focuses on the complex side of international pet travel airline policies, documentation requirements, and travel rules that can vary widely between countries. It’s especially useful for travelers navigating cross-border journeys or longer relocations. iOS | Android

Flying With Pets: Airports, Airline Rules & Travel Requirements

Flying Paws goes beyond accommodations helping travelers locate airport pet-relief areas, track flights, and find nearby vets or pet-friendly restaurants while traveling. It’s one of those niche tools you don’t think about until you’re standing in an unfamiliar airport with a nervous companion. iOS | Android

Pet Travel Planner - Airline Policies & Entry Requirements
Pet Travel Planner focuses on the practical side of flying with animals. It helps travelers compare airline pet policies including carrier size limits, cabin requirements, and travel restrictions while also outlining entry requirements for different countries. For anyone navigating international flights with pets, it offers a clearer starting point than searching airline websites individually.

iOS | Android (unavailable as of this writing)

TravelReadyPets brings together airline guidance, destination rules, and travel checklists in one place. While still evolving, it reflects a growing shift toward more structured tools that help travelers prepare pets for international journeys without feeling overwhelmed by logistics. It’s ideal for travelers who want a simple overview of requirements before booking flights or planning longer stays abroad.

Website: https://travelreadypets.com/

Passpaw — Digital Pet Travel Documents - Passpaw assists with preparing international pet travel paperwork, helping travelers organize health certificates and documentation required for cross-border journeys. It works best as a planning companion alongside veterinary guidance.

Website: https://passpaw.com

And for travelers whose companions move a little more quietly through the world…

Traveling With Cats: Quiet Tools That Support the Journey

Many pet travel apps lean heavily toward dogs, but cats often benefit from different kinds of support with tools that help maintain routine, manage documentation, and monitor health while adjusting to new environments.

PadsPass Digital Pet Passport - Stores vaccination records, microchip details, and travel documentation in one place. Especially helpful for international journeys.

iOS |Android

VetPassport

Keeps health records organized and accessible when visiting new veterinarians or crossing borders. Website: https://vetpassport.app/

PetBuddy: Pet Care Companion - Tracks feeding schedules, medications, and daily routines. Valuable for helping cats maintain stability in unfamiliar places.

iOS | Android

PawTrack - Especially useful when dealing with multiple pets. Manage your pet’s care, keep track of schedules, and find veterinarians near you.

Website: https://www.pawtrackapp.com/

Pet Care Tracker DogCat App – A calendar-style tracker for vaccinations, feeding, and symptom monitoring. iOS | Android

Travel Pawsport (A Fun Add-On) - A playful app that lets travelers document cats (including your own) encountered around the world. It’s a charming addition for those who love photographing feline companions along the way.

iOS | Android (unavailable as of this writing)

Traveling With a Service Animal: Tools That Support Access & Confidence

Here are some resources when traveling with a service or emotional support animal.

ServiceDog.Cloud

ADA Service Animals

Kruiz

Discovering Pet-Friendly Places Along the Way

DogPack assists travelers to locate dog parks and outdoor spaces, making everyday walks an opportunity to explore local communities.

Website: https://www.dogpackapp.com/blog/download-app/

Care & Support Along the Way

Rover connects travelers with local pet sitters and boarding options particularly helpful during longer trips, relocation transitions, or moments when travel plans shift unexpectedly. iOS | Android

Website: https://www.rover.com

Share

Safety, Tracking & Peace of Mind

Traveling with pets often means thinking a few steps ahead. A few thoughtful tools can offer reassurance without adding complexity to the journey.

Tractive GPS Tracking - A lightweight GPS tracker that allows travelers to monitor a pet’s location in real time. Especially useful in unfamiliar environments or outdoor destinations. For both dogs and cats. Website: https://tractive.com

PawBoost Lost Pet Recovery Network - A global platform designed to help reunite lost pets with their owners through alerts and community support. Active coverage in the United States, Canada, United Kingdon, Australia, Brazil, Mexico, and South Africa. Website: https://www.pawboost.com

American Red Cross Cat & Dog First Aid Course offers pet first aid training designed to help travelers recognize emergencies and respond calmly. They also offer an app that works as an on-the-go reference guide for pet owners. A thoughtful layer of preparation for those exploring new environments with animals. iOS | Android

Portugal-Specific Pet Travel Tools

Portugal has quietly become one of Europe’s more pet-friendly countries. Outdoor cafés, coastal paths, and slower rhythms often make traveling with animals feel natural, but a few local apps can make the experience even easier.

Walkbox is a self-guided walking routes app across Portugal that often leads to quieter paths and scenic areas where pets can move comfortably. iOS | Android

The Fork - Many Portuguese restaurants use The Fork for reservations. Filtering for outdoor seating can make dining with pets easier. iOS | Android

If You Travel with Pets: A Few Practical Notes

• Always check airline policies well in advance.

• In Europe, pet passports and vaccination records are often required.

• Portugal’s café culture and outdoor spaces often make traveling with pets easier than in many destinations.

Accessibility Notes

For some travelers, pets are companions that support mobility, comfort, or emotional well-being. Policies vary between airlines and destinations, so confirming requirements ahead of time remains essential.

A Gentle Checklist: What to Bring When Traveling with Pets

Even the most pet-friendly destinations require a little extra preparation. Over time, I’ve found that a simple checklist rather than a long packing list helps keep travel days calm and predictable for both people and animals. Here are a few essentials - many that have been among my favorites - that pet travelers may find helpful:

Travel & Health Documents (keep these in a waterproof pouch)

• Pet passport or vaccination records

• Microchip information

• Airline confirmations or travel permits (if flying)

• Contact details for a local veterinarian at your destination

Comfort & Familiarity

• A favorite blanket, mat, or small bed

• Familiar toys or chew items

• Portable water bowl and travel food containers

• Enough food for the first few days of the trip

Walking & Safety Gear

• Collar with updated ID tags

• Harness and leash suitable for walking in busy areas

• Waste bags (not always easy to find immediately after arrival)

• Reflective gear or small light for evening walks

Everyday Practicalities

• Towels for sandy beaches or rainy walks

• Pet wipes or grooming supplies

• Medications or supplements, packed in original containers

• Pet raincoat or sweater for cooler days and nights

• Paw booties for chilly weather or extra hot temperatures

• A small supply of treats

Pet Travel Suggestion: When Paul and I traveled with our whippet, we carried most of her necessities in an inexpensive backpack.

Traveling with pets doesn’t mean packing everything; just the items that help maintain familiar routines in unfamiliar places.

Additional Resource Links

EU Pet Travel Rules

BringFido has many excellent posts on pet travel

USDA Pet Travel Information

Portugal Beach Safety (Info Praia)

Traveling More Lightly, Wherever You Go

Whether you’re planning a short journey or settling into a slower rhythm abroad, I hope this guide offers a gentle place to begin. And as always, if you’ve discovered a tool that has made traveling with your companion feel easier or more meaningful, I’d love to hear about it. Feel free to share your suggestions in the comments so this resource can continue to evolve alongside the journeys we’re all taking.

Leave a comment

Because in the end, traveling with pets isn’t only about getting from one place to another, it’s about learning to move through the world a little more thoughtfully, together.

Thank you for reading Our Portugal Journey. This publication is free and open to everyone, and it exists thanks to the support of readers like you. If you’d like to receive new posts and help keep this work independent - and help support the research, time and travel that goes into it - you’re warmly invited to become a free or paid subscriber.

You can also buy me a coffee (or a glass of wine) anytime right here.

However you choose to support me, I’m truly grateful you’re here.

Until next time… Obrigada!
Carol

Dear Readers,

If you’re planning a trip to the Douro region of Portugal soon, there’s a moment on your trip you’ll never forget: the first time you board a rabelo and drift gently downriver, surrounded by terraced hillsides and silent quintas. These wooden, flat-bottomed boats once carried barrels of Port wine from the vineyards to the cellars in Gaia and Porto. Today, they carry guests and stories. From Pinhão, you can catch short scenic cruises or longer excursions that offer a river’s-eye view of the Alto Douro’s beauty and history.

After seeing the Douro River by train last Fall, Paul and I took a rabelo cruise for the first time.

The History of the Rabelo Boat.

The rabelo (sometimes spelled barco rabelo) is a vessel unique to the Douro River. No other place in the world used this specific design.

These boats were painstakingly engineered for the challenging river conditions:

• A flat bottom and no keel allowed them to navigate shallow, fast-flowing stretches.

• The name “rabelo” comes from the long steering oar (espádela) projecting from the stern, akin to a tail (“rabo”) used instead of a conventional rudder.

• They typically ranged from 19 to 23 meters long and could carry 40 to 100 barrels of Port wine, crewed by six to twelve men.

Records place rabelo use as far back as the 13th century in local lore, but modern regulation appears around 1792, when the Companhia Geral da Agricultura das Vinhas do Alto Douro set formal rules for their capacity and navigation.

Because upstream navigation was difficult, boats were sometimes hauled by men or oxen along towpaths (caminhos de sirga) carved into the rocky banks.

The rise of rail transport in 1887 reduced the rabelo’s dominance for cargo, and with damming in the 20th century, their commercial role largely ended. Some of the last wine-carrying voyages occurred in the 1960s and early 1970s.

Today, rabelos live on in tourism, tradition, and regattas, most famously the São João Rabelo Boat Regatta held every June in Porto, celebrating the vessel that once defined the valley.

What a Rabelo Cruise from Pinhão Feels Like.

When Paul and I boarded our two-hour rabelo boat in Pinhão, the sun was already warm on the river - one of those brilliant autumn Douro days that make the landscape shimmer. The wooden boat was nearly full, a cheerful mix of travelers from the U.S., France, England and beyond, each looking forward as we were, to see the valley from the water.

As we pushed away from the dock, the hum of conversation gave way to silence. The hillsides rose steeply on both sides, covered with the precise geometry of terraced vineyards. Every curve in the river revealed another beautiful scene: a stone wall, a solitary olive tree, a distant quinta perched like a castle among the vines. It was spectacular!

The rhythm of the water was soothing, and the heat seemed to slow everything to the Douro’s pace, unhurried, reflective, timeless. By the end of the journey, we’d chatted and laughed with our fellow passengers, trading travel stories and tips for local wines. It was more than a cruise - it felt like a floating community, connected by sun, scenery, and the shared joy of the moment.

Cruise Options & What to Expect:

From the Pinhão riverside docks, you can choose from a variety of rabelo experiences:

• 1-hour scenic cruise: the most popular and accessible, gliding upriver for 20–30 minutes before returning.

• 2-hour journey to Tua and back: a deeper voyage into quieter, more remote stretches of the river. This is the cruise we chose.

• Private or electric rabelo cruises: smaller and quieter, ideal for couples or groups.

Each trip offers panoramic views of the vineyard-clad slopes, historic quintas and sections of the Douro inaccessible by road - a rare chance to see the valley as 19th-century wine shippers once did.

Some cruises include audio commentary about the valley’s geology and winemaking traditions, while others offer tastings of local Port or table wine on board. Our cruise had both audio and Port tastings.

Here’s a short video of our rabelo boat cruise.

Watch the Video

Suitability & Accessibility.

Boarding a rabelo involves a few steps and narrow gangways, so full wheelchair access is limited. However, most boats are stable, with gentle movement, and suitable for travelers who can manage moderate steps.

If mobility is a concern, it’s best to call ahead and confirm accessibility with the operator, especially during busy summer months when docking areas can be crowded.

Share

How to Book a Rabelo Tour.

Magnífico Douro - offers both 1-hour and 2-hour departures with audio guide. You can also request private tours.

Living Tours - their 1-hour Rabelo cruise departs from Pinhão’s pier.

Viator – offers 1-hour Rabelo cruise includes an audio guide. Departs from Pinhão’s pier.

GetYourGuide - offers 2-hour tour includes a Port tasting and audio guide. This is the tour we booked.

If You Visit:

Booking & Timing

• Cruises operate daily from April through October, with shorter rides offered hourly and longer ones typically mid-morning or mid-afternoon.

• The Pinhão docks (“Cais”) are easy to reach by foot from the train station or nearby hotels. Street car parking in the town is limited.

• Reserve ahead in peak season to secure seats, especially for the longer 2-hour cruises.

Practical Tips

• Arrive 10–15 minutes early for boarding.

• Bring a hat, sunscreen, and water. The Douro sun can be intense, even in early autumn.

• Light layers help; the temperature can drop slightly when the boat turns into the wind.

• If you’re bringing young children along, be sure to always keep an eye on them. Although there are life preservers on board, the boat is low in the water and accidents can happen.

• Keep your camera ready, the perspective from the water is entirely different from what you’ll see on the road or on the historic Douro train.

Combine your cruise with a visit to a nearby quinta for a tasting or vineyard lunch afterward. We enjoyed refreshing Port Tonics (white Port and tonic water over ice) and a cured meats and cheese plate at a Quinta do Noval Wine Shop and Tasting Room in town up from the docks.

A rabelo cruise is more than a scenic diversion, it’s a link to the past. Floating where the old wine boats once braved rapids and rocks, you glimpse the valley’s soul from the perspective that made it famous. Whether your day is calm and sunny, as ours was, or moody with mist on the hills, the Douro always feels timeless from the water, a journey back through history, carried by the slow rhythm of the river itself.

P.S. If you’re new here, or if you’ve only been reading OPJ from your inbox, you can always visit Start Here & Explore to browse the publication by topic.

Thanks for being on this journey with me.

Thank you for reading Our Portugal Journey. This publication is free and open to everyone, and it exists thanks to the support of readers like you. If you’d like to receive new posts and help keep this work independent - and help support the research, time and travel that goes into it - you’re warmly invited to become a free or paid subscriber.

You can also buy me a coffee (or a glass of wine) anytime right here.

However you choose to support me, I’m truly grateful you’re here.

Until next time… Obrigada!
Carol

Dear Readers,

Each summer, I put together a reading list that travels through Portugal without ever leaving the page.

Some years, the journey begins in a village square, a tiled kitchen, or along a quiet road. Other years, it unfolds through poetry and memory, food and history, murder mysteries and adventure, or fiction that captures what it means to live in Portugal, or to be shaped by it from a distance.

That’s part of the pleasure of a summer reading list: Portugal reveals itself in many voices and many forms, sometimes quietly, sometimes with suspense, and occasionally with a sense of escape.

As I begin thinking ahead to my 2026 Summer Reading List, I’d like to open the process and invite you to take part.

Whether you live in Portugal, once lived here, visit often, are Portuguese, or simply feel connected to this country through reading, cooking, research, or imagination, your recommendations are welcome.

What You Can Recommend

I’m looking for books - classic or contemporary - that belong in a reading list shaped by Portugal. I especially welcome titles published in both Portuguese and English, though this is not required. What matters most is that Portugal sits at the heart of the story, whether as setting, subject, or subtle presence.

Suggestions may include:

• Fiction set in Portugal

• Non-fiction, memoir, or essays rooted in Portuguese life or history

• History, biography, or cultural studies

• Poetry by Portuguese writers or inspired by Portugal

• Travel writing that goes beyond the surface

• Murder mysteries, adventure, or genre fiction grounded in place

• Books about Portuguese food, wine, or regional traditions

• Portuguese cookbooks, traditional or modern

How to Share Your Recommendation

Please leave your suggestions in the comments (or message me) and include:

• Book title

• Author

• A link (if possible) to where the book can be purchased or found

• (Optional but welcome) A sentence or two about why you’re recommending it

For transparency: I’m not affiliated with any bookseller, and sharing a link does not imply endorsement of a particular retailer. The links simply help readers (and me) locate the book more easily.

Feel free to recommend more than one title.

What Happens Next

I’ll be gathering your recommendations over the coming months as I curate the 2026 Summer Reading List, which I plan to publish in mid-June. Where appropriate, I’ll credit readers whose suggestions are included.

Every year, some of the most meaningful additions to this list come from reader suggestions - often books I might never have discovered on my own.

Leave a comment

With Thanks

Reading, like travel, is rarely a solitary act, even when done quietly. Thank you for sharing the books that have helped you better understand Portugal, wherever you happen to be reading from.

I’m looking forward to seeing where your recommendations take us.

Warmly,
Carol

Last year’s Summer Reading List…

A small, personal and inspirational story for Sunday to share with you.

Dear Readers,

Sometimes the advice that stays with us the longest comes from people we never see again.

Not from experts. Not from books. Not from someone who sits us down and tells us how to live.

Sometimes it comes from a stranger on a patio on an ordinary evening, and for whatever reason, it stays.

This is one of those stories.

Years ago, when Paul and I were living in Arizona, we would occasionally take a road trip to Tubac, a small historic village south of Tucson that always felt like a bit of an escape.

Tubac has long been known as an artists’ village, filled with galleries, shops, cafés, and old adobe charm. It was established in 1752 as Arizona’s first Spanish Presidio and sits not far from the Mexican border. But for me, what made Tubac memorable was less about its history and more about its feeling.

It always felt as if we had gone somewhere farther away than we actually had traveled.

There was something about it — the slower pace, the desert light, the artists, the architecture, the sense that life there unfolded just a little more gently — that made it feel almost like visiting another country without ever leaving Arizona.

And during those years, that feeling mattered.

It was a decade marked by uncertainty. The Great Recession had unsettled so many lives, and even if your own footing remained steady, it was impossible not to feel the strain of what was happening around you. We knew people who were losing homes, losing work, losing confidence in the future. It was hard to watch.

And as I’ve learned more than once in life, when the world feels unsteady, creativity often does too.

Those occasional trips to Tubac felt restorative in a way that is hard to explain unless you have had a place like that yourself — somewhere that doesn’t solve anything, exactly, but somehow helps you breathe again.

When we visited, we usually stayed at Tubac Golf Resort, situated on the old Otero Ranch. What I loved most about the property was its Spanish Colonial architecture and the way some of the original ranch buildings had been restored and repurposed rather than erased.

The restaurant, Stables Ranch Grille, was one of those places I always looked forward to. It was named for the building’s original purpose, and from there you could look out over the golf course and toward a distant pasture where cattle grazed peacefully. There was something so expansive and calm about the whole setting.

Even now, I can still picture it.

One evening after dinner, Paul and I wandered outside to the patio where live country western music was playing. It was one of those mild Arizona evenings that makes people want to linger a little longer. The patio was full — guests from the resort, local residents, and no doubt a fair number of creative people who had made Tubac home.

By pure luck, we managed to grab a couple of seats.

People were enjoying the music, talking quietly, sipping wine or beer, and now and then some would get up and dance. It felt easy. Unforced. The kind of evening that doesn’t ask much of you except that you be present for it.

And then I noticed a couple dancing.

There were several people on the patio floor at that moment, but this pair stood out. Not because they were flashy or trying to draw attention to themselves. Quite the opposite.

She was tall and slender, with long dark hair streaked with gray silver, and dressed casually in an oversized sweater and jeans. He was tall, with a rustic kind of good looks, wearing a plaid shirt and jeans. They looked like ordinary people you might pass in a grocery store and never think twice about.

But when they danced, they were absolutely beautiful.

They moved together so effortlessly that it didn’t seem practiced at all. They glided in time to the music as if they had been doing it forever. He would twirl her now and then, and there was such joy in the way she moved — not performative joy, just the real thing. Ease. Pleasure. Comfort in the moment.

It was lovely to watch.

When the band took a break, the couple happened to walk past where we were sitting, and I stopped them to compliment them on how beautiful their dancing was.

Then I asked what I really wanted to know.

“How did you learn to dance like that?” I said. “Are you professional dancers?”

The woman smiled at me.

“No,” she said. “We’re not professional dancers. We heard the music from our kitchen window and decided to walk over.”

That alone would have been memorable. But I was still curious, so I asked if they had taken dance lessons because I told her I would love to learn to dance like that.

And then she said something I have never forgotten.

“No,” she said softly. “We just dance in our kitchen.”

I looked at her and said, “Really?”

She smiled again.

“Yes, honey,” she said. “You can do the same thing. Just dance in your kitchen.”

That was it.

A simple sentence.
A passing moment.
And somehow, a lesson I carried with me.

I never forgot her.

I never forgot the softness in her voice or the way she said it so naturally, as if she were offering not advice exactly, but permission.

And over time, I realized that what stayed with me was not really about dancing.

It was about how people hold on to joy.

Not the big, planned joy. Not the expensive kind. Not the kind that waits for a vacation, a celebration, or a season when everything is finally in order.

Just ordinary joy.
The kind you make room for.

I think many of us spend years waiting for life to feel less demanding before we allow ourselves more delight. We tell ourselves we’ll rest later, travel later, create later, enjoy later — once the bills are paid, the uncertainty passes, the work eases up, the world settles down.

But life has a way of continuing to be life.

There is always something.
Always a worry.
Always a headline.
Always a practical reason not to stop and enjoy what is right in front of you.

And yet, it seems to me, the people who move through life with the most grace aren’t necessarily living without difficulty.

But they are the ones who quietly make space for simple joy.

A favorite song while making dinner.
A walk at the end of the day.
A cup of coffee in a quiet corner.
A place you return to because it restores something in you.
A kitchen floor and the decision, however briefly, to dance.

Over the years, I took her advice.

Not because I suddenly became a good dancer. That definitely did not happen.

But because I understood what she meant.

When life feels stressful — and in this world, that can happen more often than any of us would like — or when we simply want to step outside of whatever heaviness the day has brought, Paul and I sometimes dance in our kitchen.

Not often enough, probably.
But enough.

Sometimes it’s just for a minute.
Sometimes it’s because a song comes on that takes us back.
Sometimes it’s because one of us needs to laugh.
Sometimes it’s because there are moments in life when the most sensible thing you can do is stop being sensible for a little while.

And every time, I think of that woman.

She likely has no idea that a brief exchange on a patio in Tubac, Arizona stayed with someone all these years later.

But it did.

Because now, whenever life begins to feel too serious, too uncertain, or too loud, I remember what she said.

You do not need a special occasion. You do not need to be talented. You do not need to wait until life becomes easier.

Sometimes, all you have to do is just dance in your kitchen.

Thanks for being on this Journey with me.

Thank you for reading Our Portugal Journey. This publication is free and open to everyone, and it exists thanks to the support of readers like you. If you’d like to receive new posts and help keep this work independent - and help support the research, time and travel that goes into it - you’re warmly invited to become a free or paid subscriber.

You can also buy me a coffee (or a glass of wine) anytime right here.

However you choose to support me, I’m truly grateful you’re here.

---

Until next time…

Obrigada!

Carol.

Dear Readers,

Some places ask you to arrive slowly. Bom Jesus do Monte is one of them. (Click on the image above to see a brief aerial view video).

A few months ago, Paul and I made our way up the forested hillside just outside Braga, following a route pilgrims have taken for centuries. Whether you arrive by foot, by funicular, or as we did, by a mix of curiosity and convenience, the Sanctuary of Bom Jesus do Monte has a way of drawing you upward, both physically and emotionally. This isn’t just a destination; it’s a journey measured in steps, pauses, and perspective.

A Hill Shaped by Faith

Long before the sweeping stairway and elegant basilica defined this hill, Bom Jesus was already a place of devotion. A small chapel stood here as early as the 14th century, marking the site as sacred ground. Over time, that devotion grew quite literally, up the mountain.

In the early 18th century, the Archbishop of Braga envisioned something far more ambitious: a monumental Baroque stairway representing the Stations of the Cross, guiding pilgrims upward in both body and spirit. Over the next century, the staircases, fountains, chapels, terraces, and finally the neoclassical basilica took shape. The result is a “Sacred Mount,” designed to mirror the soul’s ascent toward reflection, redemption, and reward.

Today, Bom Jesus remains an active pilgrimage site, but it also welcomes travelers like us - those drawn by history, architecture, engineering, and the simple pleasure of a beautiful view. In 2019, its cultural and spiritual significance was recognized with UNESCO World Heritage status.

Climbing the Story: The Stairway

The heart of Bom Jesus is its monumental stairway, the Escadórios, rising more than 100 meters through a carefully choreographed sequence of landings and flights. The climb unfolds in chapters: the Portico Stairway, the Stairway of the Five Senses, and the Stairway of the Three Virtues.

As you ascend, you pass fountains, allegorical statues, and chapels depicting the Stations of the Cross. Each pause invites reflection, or at the very least, a deep breath. Views over Braga gradually open below you, rewarding your effort step by step.

For many visitors, the climb is the experience. For others, it’s enough simply to admire it. And thankfully, Bom Jesus offers options.

The Water-Powered Funicular

For those who prefer a gentler ascent or simply want to experience one of Portugal’s most charming feats of engineering, the historic funicular runs alongside the stairway.

Dating to the late 19th century, the Elevador do Bom Jesus is powered not by electricity, but by water. Two cars are connected by a cable on parallel tracks. The upper car is filled with water until it becomes heavier, and gravity does the rest, pulling it downhill while lifting the other car upward. It’s elegant, efficient, and surprisingly peaceful.

The ride takes about five minutes and offers forested views without breaking a sweat. Tickets are inexpensive, and for older travelers or anyone conserving energy, it’s a gift.

At the Top: Basilica and Terraces

Reaching the summit feels like arriving at a quiet exhale. The neoclassical basilica stands calmly at the top, framed by broad terraces and long views across Braga and the surrounding countryside. The gardens and parkland encourage lingering. This is not a place to rush.

We found ourselves slowing down our pace here, watching visitors arrive by different paths, listening to the wind through the trees, and taking in the layered symmetry of architecture and nature.

The Basilica

The interior is relatively simple compared to other Portuguese churches, with soft light filtering through and drawing attention to the altar and sacred space rather than elaborate decoration. It feels intentional - an architectural reminder that the ascent, reflection, and effort are as meaningful as the destination itself.

Stepping back outside, broad stone terraces open toward panoramic views over Braga and the surrounding countryside. From here, you can trace the path you climbed, watch the funicular glide quietly up and down the hillside, and take in the sense of elevation both literal and emotional.

The surrounding garden park invites lingering, offering shaded paths and benches where it’s easy to sit, breathe, and simply be present.

Lakeside Calm: Boat Rides and the Park

Although we did not do this during this visit, just beyond the basilica, and tucked into the wooded park and up an incline, is a small lake where simple rowboats glide quietly across the water. For a few euros, you can spend fifteen minutes floating beneath the trees, watching the sanctuary reflect back at you.

Eating and Staying on the Mountain

Bom Jesus is not only a place to visit; it’s a place to stay awhile (and a beautiful spot for a wedding!)

Official website: https://bomjesus.pt/

Dining

Restaurante Panorâmico (Hotel do Elevador) offers regional dishes paired with sweeping views over Braga, ideal for a leisurely lunch or sunset meal. Paul and I enjoyed a light, delicious lunch with a window-view of the city.

Lodging

• Hotel do Elevador, a four-star property within the Bom Jesus complex, offers comfort, views, and the luxury of waking up on the mountain.

• Hotel do Parque, set among the trees in a 19th-century building, feels peaceful and refined, with easy access to the sanctuary.

Spending the night allows you to experience Bom Jesus early in the morning or at twilight when the crowds thin and the hill feels almost private.

If You Visit:

Region: Braga District, Northern Portugal.

Distance: About 5 km from Braga city center (10–15 minutes by taxi or Uber; we took an Uber from our vacation rental).

Highlights: Monumental stairway, water-powered funicular, lake boat rides, scenic dining.

Ideal for: Older travelers, couples, day-trippers from Porto, tour groups (there were many buses full of tourists on the day we visited).

Best Time to Visit:
Spring (April–June) and early autumn (September) offer pleasant temperatures and fewer crowds. Summer can be hot and busy.

Travel Logistics:

• Getting there: Bus line 2 from Braga city center, taxi, or Uber to the funicular base or right up to the top.

• Time: Plan 2-3 hours to explore, eat, and enjoy the lake.

• Accessibility: The funicular makes the site accessible for those avoiding stairs. Some park paths are uneven, but terrace and hotel areas are mostly level.

Practical Tips:

• Wear comfortable shoes.

• Arrive early for quieter photos.

• Reserve restaurant in advance for window seating, especially during high season.

• Public restrooms are located near the basilica in a separate building, with basic facilities (no toilet paper, no toilet seats, limited accessibility). Using restaurant facilities is often easier.

Why It Belongs on Your Journey

Bom Jesus do Monte captures something Paul and I often seek in Portugal: depth without hurry, beauty layered with meaning. It’s a place where faith, engineering, landscape, and hospitality intersect, and where travelers can choose their own pace.

For Our Portugal Journey, it represents exactly what we love to share: places that invite reflection, reward curiosity, and remind us that sometimes the journey upward is just as meaningful as the view from the top.

Thank you for reading Our Portugal Journey. This publication is free and open to everyone, and it exists thanks to the support of readers like you. If you’d like to receive new posts and help keep this work independent - and help support the research, time and travel that goes into it - you’re warmly invited to become a free or paid subscriber.

You can also buy me a coffee (or a glass of wine) anytime right here.

However you choose to support me, I’m truly grateful you’re here.

Until next time… Obrigada!
Carol

Dear Readers,

In recent years, conversations about tourism have begun to shift in tone. The question is no longer simply how to attract more visitors, but how tourism can serve the places and communities that welcome them.

At its best, tourism should benefit residents as much as visitors.

That idea surfaced again recently in conversations surrounding new regional tourism planning being developed by Turismo Centro de Portugal, which oversees one of the country’s largest and most varied regions. The initiative reflects a growing recognition that tourism works best when it strengthens the communities that make destinations meaningful in the first place.

In a country where tourism has become one of the most important economic engines, this is not a trivial conversation.

Portugal’s success as a destination has brought undeniable benefits. Historic buildings have been restored, restaurants and small hotels have opened, and communities that once struggled economically have found new opportunities.

But success has also introduced challenges. In parts of Lisbon, Porto, and the Algarve, the pace of tourism growth has sometimes outpaced the ability of communities to adapt comfortably.

The Centro region of Portugal (Central Portugal) presents a different landscape.

Stretching from Atlantic coastlines to mountain villages in the Serra da Estrela, the region is filled with historic towns, vineyards, forests, and small communities whose rhythms have changed little over time. There are, of course, significant destinations such as the Sanctuary of Fátima, which draws pilgrims from around the world. Yet much of the region remains defined by smaller towns and villages that sit quietly within Portugal’s interior landscapes.

Although the Centro region does not have a major international airport of its own, most visitors arrive through Lisbon or Porto before continuing easily by road or rail into the region’s towns, villages, and mountain landscapes.

For visitors, this slower pace is part of the region’s charm.

For me, the region also carries a more personal connection. My maternal ancestry traces back to this part of Portugal, which perhaps explains why its landscapes and villages hold a particular resonance.

Long before moving to Portugal, I also saw how tourism unfolds in smaller communities while serving as Executive Director of a Chamber of Commerce in a seaside town in Rhode Island. Many of our members depended on seasonal visitors who came not for major attractions but for the atmosphere of the place itself — local beaches, familiar cafés, and a pace of life that felt distinct from larger destinations nearby such as Newport or Providence. It was an early reminder that smaller places often possess a quieter but equally powerful appeal.

Over the past few years, Paul and I have visited many of Centro Portugal’s larger towns and cities, but we have only begun to explore the smaller villages that quietly shape the region’s character.

Some of these villages reveal how tourism can unfold on a very human scale. In the tiny mountain village of Cabeça, for example, residents come together each December to transform their home into one of Portugal’s most distinctive Christmas villages, using natural materials gathered from the surrounding forest. The celebration draws visitors while remaining rooted in community life rather than spectacle.

(You can read about our visit here: The Village of Cabeça.)

Experiences like this hint at something important about the Centro region: it offers an opportunity to shape tourism in ways that remain closely connected to local life.

Regional tourism organizations across the Centro region have already begun exploring ways to encourage this kind of balanced growth, recognizing that the long-term health of tourism depends on the vitality of local communities.

Tourism here does not need to follow the same path as larger destinations. It does not require crowds, large resorts, or constant expansion to succeed.

Instead, the region offers an opportunity to think about how tourism can grow differently.

Visitors who come here tend to move more slowly. They explore small towns, linger over regional dishes, talk with shopkeepers, and discover landscapes that feel removed from the pressures of global tourism. Rather than overwhelming a place, this kind of travel can quietly support it.

Small guesthouses fill rooms.
Local restaurants welcome new customers.
Traditional crafts and agricultural traditions find new audiences.

It is tourism that complements community life rather than replacing it.

If tourism continues to grow in the region, the opportunity (and the challenge) will be ensuring that growth strengthens the communities that make the Centro region special in the first place.

As Centro Portugal continues to shape its tourism future, the region may have a unique opportunity to demonstrate how thoughtful growth can strengthen both communities and visitor experiences.

Portugal has long understood the power of hospitality. But in my view, the most memorable places are rarely those that feel designed for tourists. They are places where daily life continues naturally and where visitors are welcomed into an existing rhythm rather than reshaping it.

The villages and landscapes of the Centro region still offer that balance.

Because travel, at its best, is not about consuming a place.

It is about learning how to enter it gently.

And perhaps that is the quiet promise behind the idea of tourism that puts people first.

Thanks for being on this Journey with me. Thank you for reading Our Portugal Journey. This publication is free and open to everyone, and it exists thanks to the support of readers like you. If you’d like to receive new posts and help keep this work independent - and help support the research, time and travel that goes into it - you’re warmly invited to become a free or paid subscriber.

You can also buy me a coffee (or a glass of wine) anytime right here.

However you choose to support me, I’m truly grateful you’re here.

Until next time…Obrigada,
Carol.

Dear Readers,

Living in Portugal has taught me many things, but nothing keeps me humble quite like trying to communicate in Portuguese. Some days, my Portuguese comes out smoothly enough to give me confidence. Other days, it reminds me just how far I still have to go. But no matter how many phrases I practice or translation apps I rely on, there are moments when words fail entirely, leaving me flustered, embarrassed, or laughing at myself after the fact.

Two recent encounters, one involving a garage door remote device and the other an unexpected reference to handcuffs, reminded me just how vulnerable (and human) language learning can be.

The Locksmith in Cascais

Paul and I recently walked into a small locksmith shop in Cascais to get our remote garage door opener checked (in Portugal, locksmith shops also often repair garage door remotes), because one day - no matter what we tried - it just stopped working. Cascais is a heavily touristed area, and we’ve grown accustomed (or perhaps lazy) to at least some English being spoken. So, politely and with what I thought was decent pronunciation, I asked:

“Fala inglês?”
(Do you speak English?)

The response was immediate and stern.

“No. Only Portuguese.”

No smile. No softening. Just a clear boundary.

We pressed on anyway, holding up the remote and explaining through gestures and limited vocabulary, that it wasn’t working. We were hoping it might simply need a new battery. The clerk disappeared into a back room with our device, and soon returned, speaking rapidly in Portuguese and explaining something technical about the remote - well beyond our language skills and understanding (I was lucky to comprehend every fourth or fifth word).

I pulled out my phone and opened DeepL, hoping translation would bridge the gap. He took my phone and typed his explanation in Portuguese himself. Unfortunately, what came back in English made very little sense. Portuguese doesn’t always translate cleanly, especially when technical details are involved.

That’s when the frustration hit me.

My chest tightened. My hands began to shake. Tears welled up in my eyes - not because of a garage door opener, but because of the exhaustion that comes from frequently having to translate my way through daily life.

The clerk noticed.

“Calma,” he said gently.
Calm.

I took a deep breath.

At that moment, Paul stepped in and somehow pieced together what the clerk was explaining. The remote was simply too old and needed to be replaced. But to program the new one, we would need our landlord’s remote so the two could be paired.

We did exactly that. Borrowed her remote, brought it back, and watched as the clerk worked his magic.

By the end of the exchange, the tension had completely dissolved. We were smiling, talking with our hands and saying lots of obrigadas and obrigados. For a moment, language no longer mattered. We weren’t a frustrated immigrant couple and a stern shopkeeper; we were just three people figuring something out together.

The Tailor and the “Cuffs”

The second incident still makes me smile (sort of).

Paul needed a pair of dress pants altered and wanted to keep the bottom cuffs. The tailor brought him into a tiny dressing room, too small for all of us, so I waited by the counter.

After the measuring and pinning, the woman came over and asked me something in Portuguese. I believed she was asking whether Paul wanted to keep the cuffs at the bottom of the pants.

But just to make sure I understood correctly, and feeling cautious but also rather proud of myself, I pulled out DeepL once again and translated from English to Portuguese:

“Yes, please keep the cuffs on.”

I showed her my phone.

She burst out laughing.

I stared at her, confused.

She held out her wrists to me and laughed again.

And suddenly, it clicked.

Apparently, cuffs do not translate the way I thought they did.

What I had actually asked her to do was to keep the handcuffs on.

Embarrassing? Absolutely.
Hilarious? Without question.

I’m quite sure I made her day and I suspect this story made its way home with her that evening, shared over dinner with family or friends. “You won’t believe what this American woman said today…”

Learning, One Misstep at a Time

Moments like these can feel uncomfortable and sometimes even overwhelming while they’re happening. But with a little distance, they become reminders that learning a new language isn’t just about grammar and vocabulary. It’s about vulnerability. It’s about patience. And it’s about being willing to show up, mistakes and all.

Every misunderstanding teaches me something. Every awkward exchange nudges me forward. And sometimes, what begins in frustration ends in laughter, kindness, and unexpected connection.

And maybe that’s the real lesson. Language doesn’t always have to be perfect to bring people together.

So, now I’m curious

Have you experienced any embarrassing or funny language moments? I’d love for you to share them in the comments so we can laugh, learn, and remind each other that none of us is alone on this journey.

Leave a comment

Thanks for being on this journey with me.

Thank you for reading Our Portugal Journey. This publication is free and open to everyone, and it exists thanks to the support of readers like you. If you’d like to receive new posts and help keep this work independent - and help support the research, time and travel that goes into it - you’re warmly invited to become a free or paid subscriber.

You can also buy me a coffee (or a glass of wine) anytime right here.

However you choose to support me, I’m truly grateful you’re here.

Until next time… Obrigada!
Carol

Publisher’s Note: Portugal recently held a presidential election, which felt like a good moment to revisit one of the more practical topics for anyone living here or considering a move: how the Portuguese government actually works.

For many foreign residents, the structure of Portugal’s political system can feel unfamiliar at first glance. This updated guide offers a clear, high-level look at the institutions and roles that shape governance in Portugal today.

Dear Readers,

This article was originally written two years ago as a straightforward overview of Portugal’s government. As Our Portugal Journey has evolved, I’ve revisited and updated it to provide a clearer, more structured explanation for readers who want a solid but accessible understanding of how Portugal’s political system functions.

As American citizens, Paul and I are knowledgeable about how the U.S. government works: how it is structured, the names of the political parties and what they stand for, and what the different branches of government do.

But here in Portugal, I admit, I was rather ignorant. I would notice billboard signs along the roads that were obviously political in nature. I knew there is a President and a Prime Minister, and that Portugal is a democratic republic, but beyond that, my understanding was limited.

Perhaps other foreign residents in Portugal have a deeper grasp of how the system works. But if you are like me - living here, considering living here, or simply curious, you may want a solid, high-level overview of how the Portuguese government is structured and how it operates.

This article is not intended to be political in nature. The goal is not to debate policy or advocate positions. Rather, it is to provide a structured overview of Portugal’s government and its major political parties so readers can better understand the civic framework of this country. Many of Our Portugal Journey readers are Portuguese citizens or long-term residents. Although I research carefully before publishing, if something meaningful has been omitted from an educational perspective, I welcome thoughtful feedback.

Portugal as a Democratic Republic

Portugal is officially the Portuguese Republic (República Portuguesa), a democratic state governed under the Constitution of 1976, which was adopted after the Carnation Revolution of 1974 ended decades of authoritarian rule.

Portugal operates under a semi-presidential system. This means executive authority is shared between a President and a Prime Minister. Unlike purely presidential systems, power is distributed across institutions that balance one another.

Understanding that shared structure is key to understanding how Portugal governs.

The Executive Branch

The executive branch includes both the President of the Republic and the Government.

The President of the Republic serves as head of state and is elected directly by the people by popular vote for a five-year term (with a two-term limit). The President’s constitutional powers include:

• Appointing the Prime Minister based on parliamentary election results
• Dissolving Parliament under certain conditions
• Vetoing legislation (subject to parliamentary override)
• Serving as Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces
• Acting as a constitutional guardian and stabilizing authority

While the President has meaningful powers, the daily administration of the country is carried out by the Government.

The Government is led by the Prime Minister, who is typically the leader of the party (or coalition) that holds a majority in Parliament. The Prime Minister works with the Council of Ministers.

The Government is responsible for:

• Proposing legislation
• Implementing and enforcing laws
• Managing public administration
• Directing domestic and foreign policy
• Overseeing public services such as healthcare, education, and infrastructure

The Legislative Branch

Portugal’s legislative body is the Assembleia da República (Assembly of the Republic).

It consists of 230 deputies elected through proportional representation for four-year terms.

The Assembly’s responsibilities include:

• Drafting and passing legislation
• Approving the state budget
• Supervising and holding the Government accountable
• Ratifying international treaties
• Proposing constitutional amendments

Because Portugal uses proportional representation, multiple political parties are typically represented in Parliament. Coalition governments are common.

How the Pieces Fit Together

For readers coming from a presidential system like that of the United States, the most confusing aspect of Portugal’s government is understanding how the President, Parliament, and Prime Minister relate to one another.

A simplified way to visualize it is this:

The President serves as head of state and constitutional guardian.
The Parliament creates laws and oversees the Government.
The Prime Minister leads the Government and executes policy.

Authority is shared and balanced across these roles rather than concentrated in a single office.

The Judicial Branch

Portugal’s judicial system operates independently from the executive and legislative branches.

The court system includes:

• The Constitutional Court, which reviews the constitutionality of laws
• The Supreme Court of Justice
• Administrative and fiscal courts
• Lower courts of first instance

Judicial independence is protected under the Constitution and forms an essential part of Portugal’s democratic framework.

Autonomous Regions and Local Government

Portugal includes two autonomous regions:

• The Azores
• Madeira

Each region has its own regional government and legislative assembly with certain self-governing powers.

On the mainland, local governance is organized through:

• Municipalities (Municípios)
• Civil Parishes (Freguesias)

Municipal governments are responsible for local infrastructure, urban planning, public services, and community-level administration.

Major Political Parties in Portugal

Portugal has a multi-party system. Among the most significant parties in recent years are:

Socialist Party (PS – Partido Socialista)
A center-left party advocating social democracy, public services, and welfare-state policies.

Social Democratic Party (PSD – Partido Social Democrata)
A center-right party (despite its name) supporting market-oriented policies, economic liberalism, and moderate conservatism.

Chega (In Portuguese, this means “Enough”)
A right-wing populist party advocating stricter immigration policies, law-and-order initiatives, and institutional reform.

Liberal Initiative (IL – Iniciativa Liberal)
A classical liberal party supporting free markets, tax reduction, and reduced state intervention.

Left Bloc (BE – Bloco de Esquerda)
A left-wing party supporting labor protections, social justice initiatives, and progressive social policies.

Portuguese Communist Party (PCP)
A left-wing party with historical roots in anti-dictatorship resistance, advocating worker protections and strong public-sector involvement.

Other smaller parties and coalitions also participate in elections, and political dynamics continue to evolve.

Why Civic Understanding Matters

Understanding the structure of Portugal’s government is not about partisanship. It is about civic literacy.

For those living in Portugal, whether temporarily or permanently, knowing how the system works provides context for elections, public policy decisions, and national debates.

It clarifies:

• How leadership roles differ from other democratic systems
• Why coalition-building is often necessary
• How laws move from proposal to implementation
• How regional and local authorities function

Portugal’s democratic framework is shaped by its history, its Constitution, and its multi-party parliamentary tradition. Taking the time to understand that structure is one small but meaningful way to understand the country itself.

Further Reading & Official Resources

For readers who would like to explore Portugal’s government in greater depth, the following official and educational resources provide detailed and up-to-date information:

Official Government Sources

• Assembleia da República (Assembly of the Republic) – Official parliamentary website
• Presidência da República – Office of the President of the Republic
• Governo da República Portuguesa – Official Government portal
• Tribunal Constitucional – Constitutional Court of Portugal
• Comissão Nacional de Eleições – National Election Commission

As with any political structure, institutions evolve, and elections change the composition of Parliament over time. For the most current information, consulting official government websites is always recommended.

Thank you for reading Our Portugal Journey. This publication is free and open to everyone, and it exists thanks to the support of readers like you. If you’d like to receive new posts and help keep this work independent - and help support the research, time and travel that goes into it - you’re warmly invited to become a free or paid subscriber.

You can also buy me a coffee (or a glass of wine) anytime right here.

However you choose to support me, I’m truly grateful you’re here.

Until next time… Obrigada!
Carol

An article related to Portugal’s president:

The Belém Palace, formally called the National Palace of Belém, is the official residence of Portugal’s president and the seat of the nation’s head of state. Its distinctive pink façade faces one of Lisbon’s most ceremonial public spaces. Every third Sunday of the month at 11:00 a.m., the Republican National Guard (GNR – Guarda Nacional Republicana) performs the Ceremony of the Solemn Changing of the Guard directly across from the palace. Lasting about an hour, the event draws visitors and locals alike and is often cited among the top twenty changing-of-the-guard ceremonies in the world.

A reflective follow-up to my 2022 essay, published four years after the beginning of the war in Ukraine.

Dear Readers,

Four years ago, I wrote an article called There’s a War on Our Continent. At the time, the words felt heavy and unfamiliar and I was angry and scared. Paul and I had been living in Portugal for less than a year, still learning the rhythms of our new life, when the news from Ukraine began to dominate every conversation and every screen.

This reflection feels, in many ways, like a quiet continuation of that earlier moment - not a new beginning, but a pause to consider what has changed since then.

I remember how surreal it felt sitting at our kitchen table, looking out toward the Atlantic, while trying to understand what it meant to live on a continent where war had returned. Events that once felt far away suddenly felt immediate - part of the world we were now living in rather than something happening somewhere else.

Back then, everything felt uncertain. The headlines were relentless. The future no longer felt distant or abstract; it felt present, unfolding around us.

Today, four years later, the feeling is different.

Not lighter, exactly, but steadier.

The Quiet Shift from Shock to Awareness

The first months of the war were filled with disbelief. For many of us who had grown up far from Europe’s borders, the idea of living within reach of conflict felt unfamiliar and unsettling.

Over time, however, something changed.

Life here in Portugal continued with its characteristic calm. Cafés opened in the morning. Neighbors paused to talk in the street. The ocean beyond our kitchen doors remained constant, its rhythms unchanged by the news cycle. Slowly, the sharp edge of fear softened into something quieter: an awareness that uncertainty exists, but so does resilience.

Living in Europe today does not feel like standing on the edge of crisis each day. Instead, it feels like living in a place that understands history deeply, a place where people carry on, even when the world feels unsettled.

Everyday Life Against a Larger Backdrop

One of the most surprising realizations has been how ordinary life remains.

There are moments when the news intrudes - a notification on a phone, a passing mention in conversation - but most days are defined by familiar routines: a walk along the promenade, grocery shopping at the neighborhood market, messages from readers planning their own journeys through Portugal’s villages and landscapes.

From here, Portugal often feels like a gentle anchor: a country that values stability, community, and the art of living well even in uncertain times. The contrast between global headlines and lived experience can feel striking. While the world discusses strategy and geopolitics, daily life here continues with a calm steadiness that is difficult to explain unless you’ve experienced it yourself.

What We Notice from Home

Over the past couple of years, we’ve become more aware of subtle changes in our surroundings.

From our kitchen doors, we sometimes watch Portuguese Navy ships move slowly across the horizon, quiet silhouettes against the Atlantic sky. A branch of NATO sits only a few kilometers down the road from us, something we barely thought about when we first arrived. Knowing that Portugal was among NATO’s founding nations adds another quiet layer to daily life here, even if most days unfold as peacefully as ever.

These observations don’t feel dramatic or urgent. Instead, they serve as gentle reminders that the world is shifting, even in places that appear calm on the surface.

Conversations across Europe often reflect a mix of determination and uncertainty. From Portugal, that evolution feels measured - steady rather than hurried. Life continues with its familiar rhythms, shaped as much by local tradition as by global events.

Living Forward, Even in Difficult Times

One of the feelings that has remained constant with me since 2022 is admiration for the resilience of the Ukrainian people.

Despite harsh and dangerous conditions, so many continue to live forward, raising families, maintaining routines, and seeking moments of normal life in circumstances most of us can hardly imagine. Watching that resilience from afar has been deeply moving.

Here in Portugal, that connection feels closer now. Many Ukrainians have made new homes here, becoming part of the quiet fabric of everyday life, neighbors, families, familiar faces along the same seaside paths. Their presence is a reminder that the story of this war is not only about headlines, but about people rebuilding ordinary lives wherever they can.

Seeing life continue here while knowing that others are doing the same under far more difficult conditions has shifted my perspective. It has made me more aware of the small privileges of peace and more appreciative of the strength that exists across this continent.

Choosing to Stay Present

When Paul and I first moved to Portugal, we were searching for a different way of living: one that felt calmer, more intentional, and deeply connected to place.

That hasn’t changed.

We are no longer paralyzed by global events, and we are not preparing to leave. If anything, living here during uncertain times has deepened our appreciation for the quiet resilience of Europe and for the everyday beauty of Portugal itself.

History is always unfolding somewhere. Yet life, with all its small rituals and familiar comforts, continues alongside it.

Perhaps that is the real lesson of the past four years: uncertainty does not erase the possibility of peace in our daily lives. It simply invites us to notice it more carefully: the morning light over the ocean, the quiet rhythm of conversation in a café, and the steady feeling of belonging to a place that continues, even when the world feels uncertain.

Thank you, as always, for walking this journey with us.

Thank you for reading Our Portugal Journey. This publication is free and open to everyone, and it exists thanks to the support of readers like you. If you’d like to receive new posts and help keep this work independent - and help support the research, time and travel that goes into it - you’re warmly invited to become a free or paid subscriber.

You can also buy me a coffee (or a glass of wine) anytime right here.

However you choose to support me, I’m truly grateful you’re here.

Until next time…

Obrigada,

Carol.

Updated and revised for 2026.

Dear Readers,

Since living in Portugal, Paul and I have experienced a remarkable number of holidays and festivities. For such a small country, Portugal celebrates in wonderfully big ways: saints’ days, village festivals, religious processions, and seasonal rituals layered throughout the year.

So naturally, I found myself wondering whether Valentine’s Day held any special meaning here. Are there uniquely Portuguese traditions tied to love and romance?

In modern times, Valentine’s Day in Portugal looks much like it does elsewhere. Dinners out, flowers, chocolates, and quiet moments shared between couples. But look beyond the shop windows, and you’ll find that Portugal’s relationship with romance is rooted in legend, symbolism, and centuries-old customs that feel far more poetic than commercial.

Love, Legend, and Saint Valentine

The origins of Valentine’s Day in Portugal as in much of the world, are shaped more by legend than documented history. One of the most enduring stories comes from the third century, during the reign of Roman Emperor Claudius II.

Determined to build a powerful army, the emperor outlawed marriage for young men, believing family ties made soldiers weak. A Christian priest named Valentin openly defied the decree, secretly performing marriages for couples who wished to wed.

When his actions were discovered, Valentin was imprisoned. Legend tells that during his captivity he received notes and flowers from young people who supported his belief in love. He also befriended the blind daughter of his jailer, whose sight was miraculously restored. Before his execution on February 14, 270, Valentin is said to have written her a farewell note signed simply, “From your Valentine.”

Pagan Roots and the Birth of a Tradition

An earlier story traces Valentine’s Day to the ancient Roman festival of Lupercalia, celebrated each February to mark purification, fertility, and the coming of spring.

In the late fifth century, Pope Gelasius I abolished pagan celebrations in favor of Christian observances, replacing Lupercalia with the Feast of Saint Valentine. Over time, handwritten love messages and symbolic gestures became associated with the date.

Interestingly, the Catholic Church later removed Saint Valentine’s feast from the liturgical calendar in the 1960s, citing limited historical evidence. By then, however, the romantic symbolism had already taken root.

The Valentine Scarf: Love, Stitched by Hand

One of Portugal’s most charming expressions of romance dates to the 17th century: the Lenço dos Namorados, or Lover’s Hankerchief.

Originating in the Minho region, known for its fine embroidery, young women stitched delicate scarves adorned with hearts, flowers, birds, and poetic messages often spelled phonetically, reflecting limited formal education.

Tradition held that a young woman would offer (or discreetly drop) her embroidered scarf where a young man she admired might find it. If he accepted her affection, he wore it publicly. If not, the message was quietly understood.

Today, these scarves are no longer courtship tools, but they remain beloved symbols of Portuguese folk art, still found in shops selling traditional linens.

The Cantarinha dos Namorados: A Promise in Clay

Another enduring symbol of romance comes from Guimarães: the Cantarinha dos Namorados (Lover’s Pitcher).

Handcrafted from red clay using centuries-old methods, these small vessels were traditionally offered by a young man as a symbolic proposal. If accepted, and approved by the woman’s family, the cantarinha might be used to save money for wedding items or treasured gifts.

Each piece carries symbolic meaning: the wide base represents prosperity, the narrower upper section symbolizes the challenges couples may face, and the bird at the top is said to guard the couple’s secrets.

While no longer part of courtship rituals, cantarinhas remain beautiful works of folk art. Personally, I’d happily choose one over chocolates or flowers.

Portugal, Naturally Romantic

Portugal may not have invented Valentine’s Day as we know it today, but it hardly needs manufactured romance. Love here feels woven into everyday life: in historic towns, winding streets, rivers at sunset, and meals meant to linger.

Whether it’s a quiet café moment, a walk through an old village, a glass of wine overlooking the Douro, or a candlelit dinner tucked down a cobbled street, Portugal offers romance without trying too hard.

A Seasonal Note
With Valentine’s Day falling on a weekend this year, some hotels across Portugal are marking the occasion with quietly seasonal programs. In the Algarve, for example, Victoria Golf Resort & Spa is framing the moment as a cherished hideaway, pairing gastronomy and spa time with the region’s slower winter pace. It’s a contemporary echo of something long familiar here: that romance in Portugal often takes the form of retreat, ease, and time set aside rather than spectacle.

Perhaps that’s the real lesson behind these traditions: love doesn’t require grand gestures - just time, intention, and a beautiful place to share it.

Leave a comment

Thanks for being on this journey with me.

Thank you for reading Our Portugal Journey. This publication is free and open to everyone, and it exists thanks to the support of readers like you. If you’d like to receive new posts and help keep this work independent - and help support the research, time and travel that goes into it - you’re warmly invited to become a free or paid subscriber.

You can also buy me a coffee (or a glass of wine) anytime right here.

However you choose to support me, I’m truly grateful you’re here.

Until next time…

Obrigada!

Carol.

Dear Readers,

Some sponsorships arrive with a checklist. This one arrived with a story.

This post was created in collaboration with Portuguese Treasures, and I received free product samples. As always, all thoughts and experiences are my own.

When a package from Portuguese Treasures showed up at my door, it contained just two items: a hand-carved olive wood salad/fruit bowl, and a matching serving spoon. Simple. Unassuming. And yet, from the moment I lifted them out of the box, they felt less like products and more like pieces that had already lived a life somewhere else, perhaps on a farmhouse table, in a sunlit kitchen, or beside a bowl of freshly picked Algarve oranges.

These weren’t objects asking to be admired. They were asking to be used.

The Beauty of Portuguese Olive Wood

The first thing you notice about olive wood is its character. The grain isn’t subtle. It moves and swirls in warm tones of honey, amber, and deep caramel. No two pieces are ever the same, because no two olive trees grow the same way.

The bowl immediately earned a place on our counter. Filled with fruit, it felt grounded, sturdy, and warm. Filled with a simple salad it took on a rustic elegance. Empty, it was just as striking. The serving spoon, smooth and perfectly weighted, felt instinctively right in my hand, balanced in a way that only comes from thoughtful craftsmanship.

Olive wood doesn’t try to be perfect. Its beauty lies in its individuality.

Share

From Grove to Table: Where This Wood Comes From

Portuguese olive wood carries centuries of agricultural tradition. Across regions like Alentejo, Trás-os-Montes, and the Douro, olive trees are pruned regularly and cared for over generations. When a tree reaches the end of its productive life, its wood is not wasted.

Instead:

• No forests are cut down solely for olive wood.

• Artisans use pruned branches or older, non-productive trees.

• Each piece is a by-product of olive cultivation, not deforestation.

This makes olive wood inherently sustainable, not because it’s trendy, but because it has always been practical.

Why Olive Wood Works So Well in the Kitchen

Olive wood is exceptionally dense and durable, which makes it ideal for everyday kitchen use.

The bowl works perfectly for fruit, small salads (to serve 2-3 people), bread, or shared dishes (22 cm in diameter). It is strong enough to handle daily use, and it is naturally resistant to absorbing odors. Dinner guests admired the bowl when I filled it with a variety of Portuguese bread.

The serving spoon is excellent for tossing salads directly in the bowl, it is gentle on cookware, and it’s heat-resistant and comfortable to hold. I have other olive wood spoons, but this one has a nice, long handle (35 cm long) and is solid without being too heavy.

Both pieces are made to move easily from kitchen to table. Functional, not fragile.

Naturally Antibacterial (Without the Fuss)

One of olive wood’s most reassuring qualities is something you can’t see. The natural oils in olive wood help inhibit bacterial growth, reducing the ability of bacteria to penetrate the wood’s surface.

It’s one of those benefits that quietly supports daily life without needing any special coating or treatments.

Living With Olive Wood: Care and Use

Olive wood is refreshingly low maintenance:

• Hand wash with mild soap

• Dry immediately

• Occasionally condition with food-safe oil (I use extra-virgin Portuguese olive oil)

Over time, the wood deepens in color and becomes even more beautiful. Small marks don’t detract; they tell the story of meals prepared and shared.

This is kitchenware that improves with use.

Portuguese Treasures – A Family Business

Founded in 2011 by Portuguese national Bruno Figueira, this family-run business grew from a genuine desire to share Portugal’s traditional, sustainable, and eco-conscious home products with a wider audience. The company partners with a carefully curated network of Portuguese suppliers, chosen as much for their values as for their craftsmanship.

Sustainability is not an afterthought, it’s central to every decision. Before any product is selected, Bruno and his team personally visit supplier workshops and facilities to ensure materials are responsibly sourced and production practices align with their standards.

Some suppliers are small, family-run workshops; others are larger, well-established enterprises. What they all share is a commitment to quality and tradition. Every product is made in Portugal, supporting local artisans and helping preserve the country’s rich heritage of craftsmanship.

When Everyday Objects Carry a Sense of Place

The olive wood bowl and serving spoon from Portuguese Treasures didn’t arrive as décor. They arrived as companions; objects meant to be woven into daily rituals.

In a world filled with disposable things, olive wood reminds us that some of the most meaningful pieces are the ones we reach for time and again. They carry the story of the land, the tree, and the hands that shaped them, and then quietly become part of our own.

Sometimes, a bowl and a spoon are all you need to tell the story of Portugal.

Explore More

If you’d like to learn more or bring a piece of Portugal into your own home, visit the Portuguese Treasures Ltd. website to explore their carefully curated collection of high-quality Portuguese products. Whether you’re shopping for home décor or thoughtful gifts, they ship worldwide, and Bruno and his team are known for being exceptionally responsive to customer inquiries. English and Portuguese are both spoken, making the experience easy and welcoming from anywhere in the world.

Read about Portugal’s Cork Industry and how Portuguese Treasures shares their passion for traditional, sustainable Portuguese products.

Until next time…

Obrigada!

Carol.

Dear Readers,

Feliz Ano Novo (Happy New Year) to you.

I wasn’t going to share this, but over the holidays I took a brief pause away from writing, to sit with life for a moment and to reconnect with the quieter things that compel me to put words on the page. This is my first post of 2026.

There is a particular stretch of time each year that feels suspended, as if the calendar loosens its grip. The days between Christmas, New Year’s, and my birthday don’t fully belong to what’s ending or what’s about to begin. They exist in between: quiet, unanchored, and heavy in ways that are difficult to name.

I’ve come to think of this as my three weeks of melancholy. Different weeks, the same narrow span of days, and every year, the same emotional weight. It’s a time when reflection arrives uninvited, when the noise of celebration fades and something softer, more persistent takes its place.

My parents told me my birth was expected at the end of December, but as usual, I arrived late. My timing in life has never been impeccable. I always seem to be slightly ahead of or behind the moment. And a birthday that falls immediately after the holidays has never quite felt like a real birthday to me. By then, the rituals are spent, the table cleared, and the calendar already moving on.

Each year, Paul asks what I want to do to celebrate my birthday, and my answer is always the same: nothing much. By that point, I’ve already been out to lunch or dinner more times than usual, eaten far more than I normally would, and had plenty of cake - lots of cake. When my birthday arrives, I’m full, tired, reflective, and a few pounds heavier. Emotionally and physically, I’m simply done.

Okay. Enough about that.

The truth is, I don’t really know why these particular days carry such weight for me. But I’ve learned I’m not alone. Reading the reflections of others who struggle quietly during the holidays reminds me that this in-between space between celebration and routine, between endings and beginnings can be difficult for many of us.

For me, the holiday season is a time of reflection and sometimes I reflect on all the wrong things. I dwell on parts of the past I can’t change and worry about a future I might somehow get wrong.

Long ago, I escaped from the “Holiday Spirit” box. You know the one. The one that insists I should be merry and bright. That I should go into debt buying presents for relatives I barely know. That the holidays are somehow “magical,” and if I’m not feeling it, the problem must be me.

Instead, for many years now, Paul and I have taken the quieter route: sharing a meal either together or with friends, listening to soothing, instrumental holiday music, taking a walk, enjoying a glass of wine, or watching the rain fall, and feeling deeply grateful that we have warmth, food, and love, especially when so many others do not, through no fault of their own.

And perhaps this, too, is part of the melancholy.

It’s hard to fully lean into celebration when the world feels so heavy. There is so much sadness, so much anger, so much conflict unfolding all around us. So much unnecessary loss, displacement, and suffering, much of it relentless, much of it impossible to ignore. Holding joy alongside that awareness can feel complicated and sometimes even disorienting. Sometimes it feels easier to step quietly to the side and simply notice.

So, I think about life.

About the people who have come and gone. Those who have passed away, those who remain in touch, those who drifted away, those who now live with dementia and no longer remember me, and those I knew only briefly as our lives crossed paths for a moment in time.

I think about the choices I’ve made. The good ones (like marrying Paul) and the not-so-good ones (I’ll spare you the details). I think about the world itself: its madness, its suffering, its uncertainty, the excess and entitlement of some, and the most basic unmet needs of others. I wonder where I fit into all of this: why I’m still here and not there (wherever “there” is).

The space between these days often opens into other in-between places: the spaces between who we were, who we are, and who we are still becoming.

Maybe it’s because of my birthday (the second one in this new and advanced decade) that these in-between days open the door to familiar questions. Not dramatic ones. Quieter questions. The kind that surfaces when time slows and there’s room to notice what no longer fits.

I sometimes reflect on why I didn’t stay in Rhode Island my entire life, like so many people I know there. And if some left, it was usually a move to Florida. So why wasn’t Florida an option for me? Why did I keep feeling as though something was unfinished?

Looking back now, I see that period less as a desire to leave and more as a growing awareness that our lives had become too tightly contained. Paul and I had built something solid - family, friends, work - but over time it began to feel worn thin. Not broken. Just narrow.

We were often the steady ones that others leaned on, the people everyone assumed would always be there. Life was full and familiar, but increasingly predictable. Days blurred together. We weren’t unhappy so much as restless, moving through routines on autopilot, sensing that there might be more space to inhabit than the lives we had carefully assembled.

We tried different versions of “normal.” We worked. We owned a home. We ran a business. We took vacations. We stayed busy. On paper, everything made sense. But underneath it all was a quiet sense of postponement as if something essential was waiting to be named.

When we moved west to Arizona it wasn’t about leaving people behind as much as it was about giving ourselves room to breathe. Room to step outside what was expected and see what might happen if we allowed life to widen a little.

Arizona felt like an opening. A new horizon filled with energy and possibility. Moving there felt right in that gut-deep way that doesn’t require logic, only trust.

But distance, as it turns out, changes things.

The farther away we moved, the more our former lives and the people in them drifted. At first, everyone tried to stay in touch. Then the visits slowed. Calls became less frequent. Emails and holiday cards faded. Sometimes we learned about major life events only well after the fact.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” it turns out, is very real.

I know now that some people were hurt by our leaving. To protect themselves, they let us go. I understand that. I’ve done the same in my own way.

During these three weeks of melancholy, I thought about our move abroad in 2021 and realized that many of the same hopes, fears, hurts, and moments of joy remain. But this time, the understanding feels different.

What I see now is not an escape or a pursuit, but a gradual turning toward a life that feels more honest.

Living in Portugal has opened my eyes, not because it offers certainty, but because it has taught me to sit more comfortably with questions. It has made me more aware of the beauty in differences of opinion, of the people we meet, and in the unexpected connections formed along the way. It has been a life lesson and a true gift.

And that is what I’m holding onto.

Not the certainty that everything will be easy, or even clear, but the understanding that this life, imperfect and unpredictable as it is, still feels honest to us.

Even when the world feels tumultuous and frightening, I believe Paul and I are exactly where we are meant to be, for now. Still moving forward. Still learning. And still finding our way, safely, together.

Leave a comment

Thanks for being on this journey with me.

Thank you for reading Our Portugal Journey. This publication is free and open to everyone, and it exists thanks to the support of readers like you. If you’d like to receive new posts and help keep this work independent - and help support the research, time and travel that goes into it - you’re warmly invited to become a free or paid subscriber.

You can also buy me a coffee (or a glass of wine) anytime right here.

However you choose to support me, I’m truly grateful you’re here.

Until next time…

Obrigada!

Carol.

This video (you can also view this on my YouTube channel), is a celebration of community, connection, and the many ways the Christmas season is experienced around the world.

What began as a simple idea became something far more meaningful thanks to the generosity of Our Portugal Journey readers, friends, and followers who took the time to share their photographs and personal perspectives. From Portugal to places far beyond, each image offers a quiet moment of reflection, beauty, and place.

I am deeply grateful to everyone who contributed - your willingness to participate, to pause, and to share how the season looks where you are is what made this project possible.

Thank you for being part of this journey and for helping turn it into something truly special.

View the Video on YouTube

As this project comes to a close, it also marks the final post of Our Portugal Journey for 2025.

I am deeply humbled and incredibly grateful for the more than 5,900 subscribers and followers who continue to find value, meaning, and inspiration in this work. Your readership, encouragement, and engagement are what make this journey possible and worthwhile.

Thank you for walking alongside me this year through stories, places, reflections, and shared moments. I’ll be taking a short pause, and I look forward to welcoming you back with the next post on January 15, 2026.

Thanks for being on this journey with me!

My newsletter is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber to help keep this publication independent.

A Special Thank You to Jaeleen for becoming a Paid Supporting Subscriber. I truly appreciate it!

You can also buy me a coffee or a glass of wine, anytime right here.

Until next time…

Obrigada!

Carol.

Dear Readers,

I’ve written before about life’s strange timing, most memorably in my post “The Day We Almost Blew Up a Village,” a story from many years ago when Paul and I owned a country store in Rhode Island. That experience reminded me that fate has a way of intervening in our lives, often quietly and without warning. But a few weeks ago in the Algarve, during the powerful winds of Storm Cláudia, that reminder arrived in a much more dramatic way.

We were spending a long weekend in the Algarve, in part to attend Art Expo where a friend was exhibiting her work. The weather was unstable during our drive from Lisbon to Porches on Friday afternoon, where we had booked a hotel for three nights, with moments of torrential rain, high winds, and then clouds and sun. The weather reports said that most of the weekend would be this way and there were reports of extremely severe weather in the Algarve area we happened to be staying in.

But being the brave souls that we are, in the early afternoon on Saturday, the rain had let up, so we ventured out and headed towards Silves, where the art show was being held. It was about a 30-minute drive. The sky had turned a heavy, uneasy gray, the kind that makes you watch the clouds a little more closely.

As we left Porches, WAZE, the GPS app we most often use when taking a road trip, routed us onto a series of rural backroads – some narrow, and all unfamiliar, winding past farmland and long stretches of open space.

The wine bar sign.

A few minutes into the drive, I spotted a small sign pointing toward a wine bar I had read about earlier. On a whim, I asked Paul if we could take a quick detour to locate it. Perhaps we’d return later if the weather improved. He turned the car around without hesitation.

The wine bar sat quietly down a narrow village lane, shuttered for the afternoon. We noted the spot and about 10 minutes later we got back on the road towards Silves, returning to the route WAZE had chosen for us.

Not long after, everything changed.

As we rounded a curve, the landscape opened, and we were confronted with devastation. Acres of greenhouses lining both sides of a two-lane road were flattened. Structures twisted. Plastic sheeting collapsed onto thousands of tender plants. Fence posts were at an angle. Debris littered the ground in every direction. Telephone poles lay bent with wires hanging low enough for cars to barely pass under.

Besides us, only a couple of cars were on the road just slightly ahead of us and slowing to a crawl as drivers navigated the wreckage. One man pulled over to remove debris that was blocking one lane of the road. I rolled down my window, no rain at that moment, just an unsettling stillness, and took a few photos, trying to make sense of the destruction.

As we slowly drove by, the realization came. I said to Paul, “This just happened.” He agreed. We weren’t minutes behind this path of destruction. We were just behind it.

Had we not stopped to look for the wine bar, we would have been on this exact stretch of road at the very moment Storm Cláudia spun what we believe was a tornado.

An odd detail.

That thought stayed with us long after we reached Silves. And something else lingered, too, an odd detail we still cannot explain.

We traveled between Porches and Silves a few times over that weekend, yet WAZE never sent us along that rural road again. Not once.

We tried to retrace it later out of curiosity, but we could never find the same turn, the same greenhouse-lined stretch, or anything resembling the place where we had watched nature rearrange the landscape.

To this day, we have no idea which road we were on or why we never drove through it again.

Moments like these make me stop and think.

For me, moments like these serve as a reminder that so much of life unfolds in ways we only recognize in hindsight. A small choice. A brief detour. A few minutes gained or lost. These can alter the direction of an entire day, or perhaps something far bigger.

Some people call these moments twists of fate; others chalk them up to the universe stepping in, or even to guardian angels watching over us. Whatever the explanation, these experiences stay with you.

Just as that long-ago incident in Rhode Island taught us how fragile the ordinary can be, this moment on a rural Algarve road reinforced it once again: fate doesn’t always arrive quietly. Sometimes it reveals itself only after the danger has passed.

And on that stormy afternoon, that simple decision to look for a wine bar may very well have saved our lives.

Have you ever had a moment like this, when timing, intuition, or a small, unexpected choice changed the course of your day or your life? Leave a comment and tell me about it.

Leave a comment

Thanks for being on this journey with me!

Thank you for reading Our Portugal Journey. My newsletter is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber to help keep this publication independent.

A Special Thank You to Michael, to Annika, to Richard, and to Teri for becoming a Paid Supporting Subscriber. I truly appreciate it!

You can still take advantage of my Special Discount Offer for annual paid subscriptions, while helping to feed people in need. Learn more here.

You can also buy me a coffee or a glass of wine, anytime right here.

Until next time…

Obrigada!

Carol.

Dear Readers,

Every December, Portugal lights up with a warmth and sparkle that is uniquely its own, from dazzling city squares to small-town nativity scenes and festive markets that glow long after sunset. It’s become one of my favorite times of the year living in Portugal.

This year, I’d love to share that beauty through your eyes celebrating Christmas in Portugal and around the world.

I’m excited to announce a special community project:

Christmas in Portugal — And Around the World

A photo-only holiday video created from images shared by Our Portugal Journey readers, followers, and friends.

Thanks to everyone who has already submitted photos - this project is getting exciting but there’s always room for more!

Whether you live in Portugal, have visited during the holiday season, have visited somewhere else during the holidays, or are celebrating Christmas somewhere else in the world, I invite you to contribute a favorite photograph that captures the spirit of the season where you are.

Share

How to Participate:

Photos of:

• Christmas lights or illuminated streets

• Nativity scenes, or church displays

• Holiday markets, concerts, trees, or festive village squares

• Seasonal decorations that capture the holiday feeling

• Festive city scenes

• Iconic holiday displays

• Light Installations

• Architectural or cultural Christmas highlights from your location

Submission Guidelines

To keep the project consistent and respectful of privacy:

• Photos only (no videos or AI-enhanced images)

• JPG format preferred

• Vertical or horizontal images welcome

• If you can’t decide on one photo, submit two or three

• Avoid close-up photos of identifiable people (especially children)

• Scenic, architectural, or public holiday displays are ideal

• You must own the rights to the photo

When submitting, please include:

• Your first name

• The country you currently reside in

• If you’re a Substack creator, social media creator or have a blog on another platform, feel free to include the name/handle of your publication

• The city/town + country where the photo was taken

• A short caption (optional but helpful)

Email your photo to: hello@ourportugaljourney.com

Those photos that are selected will be compiled into a festive community video and will be published on Our Portugal Journey, YouTube, and social media in mid-December.

You are also welcome to share the finished video with your family, friends and subscribers.

A Note on Privacy

Please avoid close-ups of identifiable people, especially children. Scenic or public-space shots are perfect.

By submitting, you confirm that you own the rights to your image and grant permission for it to appear (with credit) in Our Portugal Journey’s 2025 Christmas video and related posts.

Deadline to Submit:

Extended to Wednesday, December 10, 2025

Email your photo to: hello@ourportugaljourney.com

Why This Project Matters to Me

The heart of Our Portugal Journey has always been connection - between readers and me and Paul, sharing insights, travel and expat stories, images, everyday discoveries, and a sense of place. This project brings those stories together visually, creating a warm, shared experience of the holiday season both here in Portugal and around the world.

I can’t wait to see what you share.

Feliz Natal e Boas Festas!
Carol

Leave a comment

Because you asked for content about our personal experiences and daily life in Portugal, periodically I’ll publish a short video (about 6 minutes long) about the life Paul and I share in Portugal.

From daily experiences to travel, food and wine, and a few odds and ends, we’ll cover what we’ve been up to.

We’re calling this series, Out & About with Carol and Paul.

This video is Journey Episode 6: A Birthday & The Beatles and covers November 2025.

Video Highlights:

• A special birthday celebration in Lisbon.

• A trip to Liverpool, England - home of The Beatles. Paul is a big fan and this was his birthday gift.

• A visit to the Royal Albert Dock, Liverpool

• A 6-hour private Fab 4 Taxi Tour

• The Beatles Story Museum

You can also find all our videos on Our Portugal Journey’s YouTube channel.

I would love to have your feedback and suggestions, so please feel free to leave me a comment.

Leave a comment

Thank you for reading Our Portugal Journey. My newsletter is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber to help keep this publication independent.

You can also buy me a coffee or a glass of wine, anytime right here.

Until next time…

Obrigada!

Carol.

Dear Readers and Friends,

As we enter the season of gratitude, I want to take a moment to say something simple but deeply felt: Our Portugal Journey exists because of you.

Your comments, messages, thoughtful questions, friendships and continued readership are what make this community so special. Every story I write, from train rides in the Douro to wandering village lanes, or navigating the challenges that come with living in a new country, comes to life because you’re here, on this journey alongside me and Paul.

This year, I wanted to do something meaningful that celebrates our community and supports those in need here in Portugal.

Black Friday & Cyber Monday Special Offer

For a limited time, you’re invited to take advantage of a 15% discount on an annual paid subscription to Our Portugal Journey.

Paid subscriptions help support the time, travel, research, and heart that go into each story. They keep this publication independent and reader-powered, which is exactly how I want it to stay.

Your Subscription Will Also Help Feed Families in Portugal

For every new annual paid subscriber during this period, I will personally donate €10 to Banco Alimentar, Portugal’s respected food bank network supporting families facing food insecurity.

(You can learn more about them here: https://www.bancoalimentar.pt/quem-somos/)

This is my way of extending our community’s generosity into the wider world because sharing what we love about Portugal is also about caring for the people who call it home.

Why Become a Paid Subscriber?

• Support independent writing and Portugal-focused storytelling

• Priority access to Carol via email for any ongoing questions you may have about moving to, living in, or travel to Portugal

• Help shape future content with your feedback and suggestions (I read each and every one personally)

• Join a community of curious travelers, immigrants, expats, and Portugal enthusiasts

BECOME A PAID SUBSCRIBER

A Small Thank-You From Me to You

If you’ve been thinking about becoming a paid subscriber—or gifting a subscription to someone who loves travel, culture, and Portugal—this is a perfect moment to do so with added meaning.

Share Our Portugal Journey

Your support directly fuels the stories I tell and the places I go.
And during this season, it will also help put food on the tables of families who need it most.

Thank you for being part of Our Portugal Journey.
Your loyalty and enthusiasm inspire me every single day.

Until next time…

Obrigada!

Carol

Publishers note:

Join Our Portugal Journey for a special holiday photo project: Christmas in Portugal — and Around the World. Submit one JPG photo of festive lights, nativity scenes, markets, or holiday displays from Portugal or your part of the world. Selected images will appear in a community video shared in December. Learn how to participate and submit your photo by December 8, 2025 here.

Dear Readers,

Not long ago, as Paul and I were driving rural roads along the Portuguese-Spanish border region of the Alentejo in Portugal, we noticed signs along the roadside with images of what looked like (to me) a bobcat, but in fact was an image of an Iberian Lynx. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered something about them being an endangered species. Inspired by those road signs, I decided to learn more about these native cats.

Memories of Arizona wildlife.

When Paul and I lived in Arizona (U.S.), our home was near mountains and open land. We saw a lot of wildlife often right in our backyard. We encountered everything from tarantulas and scorpions to hummingbirds and owls. We also encountered rattlesnakes, coyotes, mountain lions and bobcats.

For the most part (unless the smaller critters got into the house), we didn’t mind sharing the desert, since they had occupied the land long before humans ever did. But as the years went by, and more development, construction, traffic, and suburban sprawl happened, it was the wildlife that suffered (still suffers) the most as much of their habitat is slowly being replaced by humans and “progress”. Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s gotten much better in the 4+ years since we left Arizona.

And as time went on, it was not uncommon for me to watch bobcats from my home office window, effortlessly scaling a 6-foot wall into our backyard to hunt for prey such as rabbits and birds and even small pets. I wonder at what point, these desert creatures will become endangered.

In Portugal, a conservation comeback.

The Iberian lynx (Lynx pardinus) is one of the world’s most endangered feline species and a powerful symbol of wildlife conservation in the Iberian Peninsula. Once on the brink of extinction, this elusive wildcat has been making a slow but steady comeback in Portugal and Spain, where strategic conservation efforts have helped reintroduce and protect the species. In 2002, there were fewer than 100 cats in the wild. In 2024, there were 2,401 Iberian lynxes in the Iberian Peninsula, 1,557 adults or subadults and 844 cubs were born in the wild, according to the 2024 Iberian Lynx Census.

They are solitary, territorial, and mostly active at dawn and dusk. Males can roam up to 40 km, while female roaming territories are smaller.

Where they live in Portugal.

Historically, the Iberian Lynx was found across the Iberian Peninsula, but by the early 2000s, its range had shrunk dramatically. Thanks to reintroduction programs, small populations have now been successfully re-established in these areas:

Guadiana Valley Natural Park (Parque Natural do Vale do Guadiana), in the Mértola region of southern Alentejo.

Sierra de Malcata Natural Reserve in central Portugal, near the Spanish border.

These areas were chosen due to their expansive Mediterranean scrubland, low human population density, and potential for rabbit recovery (their main prey).

Share

How the species declined.

The decline of the species has primarily been driven by two major factors: the sharp reduction in its main food source, the wild rabbit, due to outbreaks of viral diseases such as myxomatosis and rabbit hemorrhagic disease; and changes in land use, including the abandonment of traditional farming methods and certain harmful hunting practices.

Additionally, the species' natural habitat—Mediterranean scrubland and woodland—has been lost or degraded, largely because of the spread of exotic or fast-growing tree plantations (like eucalyptus and maritime pine), the construction of major infrastructure projects (such as roads and dams), and frequent forest fires.

Other serious threats include unnatural deaths (from vehicle collisions and poaching), diseases like bovine tuberculosis, and disturbances in breeding areas, all of which continue to jeopardize the species' survival.

The road signs.

Iberian lynx road warning signs, like the ones Paul and I saw, are found in parts of the Alentejo on rural roads linking areas such as Castro Verde to Mértola. These signs mark zones where the endangered lynx frequently traverse. The purpose is to warn drivers of possible lynx crossings, often accompanied by a distance plate (e.g., “1 – 4 km”) indicating the stretch of road drivers should be alert. The signs include the distinctive lynx face - the black silhouette showing ear tufts and facial shape.

How they are protected in Portugal.

Portugal has committed to lynx conservation through:

• Captive breeding and reintroduction - A major breeding center in Silves (Algarve) supplies lynx for release into the wild. Lynx are carefully reintroduced with GPS tracking collars.

• Habitat protection - Protection of core lynx habitats in Guadiana Valley and surrounding areas and the encouragement of rabbit habitat restoration through landowner agreements and EU funding.

• Road safety measures - Lynx crossing road signs and wildlife underpasses, virtual alerts on GPS apps like Waze to notify drivers of lynx crossing areas, and road fencing and tunnels in high-risk areas.

• Public awareness and scientific monitoring - Conservation campaigns educate locals on how to report lynx sightings. All lynx are genetically identified and monitored.

While still endangered but now classified as “vulnerable,” the lynx’s return to Portuguese terrain offers hope that with coordinated effort, education, and habitat protection, one of Europe’s rarest predators can thrive once again.

Leave a comment

Resource links and further reading.

Iberian lynx census: https://lifelynxconnect.eu/censos/

LPN – Liga para a protecção da natureza: https://www.lpn.pt/en/nature-conservation/lynx-program

ICNF – Instituto da Conservação da Natureza e das Florestas: https://www.icnf.pt/imprensa/populacaodelincesibericossupera2400exemplares

Iberian lynx no longer endangered after numbers improve in Spain and Portugal [The Guardian]: https://www.theguardian.com/environment/article/2024/jun/20/iberian-lynx-vulnerable-not-endangered-after-numbers-improve-in-spain-and-portugal-aoe

Guadiana Valley Natural Park:https://natural.pt/protected-areas/parque-natural-vale-guadiana?locale=en

Sierra de Malcata Natural Reserve: https://natural.pt/protected-areas/reserva-natural-serra-malcata?locale=en

Thanks for being on this journey with me!

Thank you for reading Our Portugal Journey. My newsletter is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber to help keep this publication independent.

A Special Thank You to A. for becoming a Paid Supporting Subscriber.

I truly appreciate it!

You can also buy me a coffee or a glass of wine, anytime right here.

Until next time…

Obrigada!

Carol.