Twenty-Two Months In Porto...
Thoughts, Reflections, and Gratitude
Ugh.... Too many months have passed since I posted an update on our life here in Porto. At the end of January I began working on a post about our first eighteen months in Porto. Then when we had to put our boy down, I was not in the headspace to write anything. So I told myself I would just postpone and do a nineteen month post instead. Well, nineteen months became twenty, which then became twenty-one. As we passed our twenty-second month last week, I realized I need to just get this done. So, here we are... Almost two years in.
To be completely honest.... All things considered...
Still no regrets...
OUR LIFE IN PORTO IS PRETTY GOOD...
It is true that the shine of Portugal has worn away a bit. But I expected that. Especially in light of recent changes for those seeking a long-term commitment to the country resulting in citizenship and a Portuguese passport. I have a lot of thoughts about this topic, but that is for another post (and I have not given up on the idea hope that we may still be grandfathered into the rules.)
While the luster may have dulled a bit, the longer we live here, the more we fall in love with the country and the people. We have also become even more resolute that we never intend to live in the US again. As our time away from the States continues to grow, so does our learning and understanding of just how much propaganda we were fed about the alleged superiority of the USA.1
At the same time, the longer I live in Portugal, the more I learn about the issues and problems faced by the people here. Just like the US, there are plenty of unaddressed problems and societal ills. But I still choose Portugal over the US. In my observations, the Portuguese, being a deeply family oriented culture, seem to be there for each other in a more authentic way. The US is a country of “Me, Me, Me”.... “What’s in it for ME?!?!”
Portugal is much more of a country of “We”. The collective “We” more fairly levels the playing field of life. I want to be a part of the “We”.
THE WEATHER IS NOT PERFECT... WHO KNEW?
Porto now feels like home. We are headed into our third summer and after having lived the past twenty-five years in hot and humid climes (and Yoav much longer), we are both looking forward to a typical mild Porto Summer. Hopefully that is what we end up with.
As for winter... We have now survived our second winter. It is everything they say it is... Cloudy, wet, windy, humid, and a general feeling of endless cold. I do have occasional moments when it just sucks, it is still warmer during the winter than any place I’ve lived. I do not need heavy coats, scarves, or gloves like I have for my entire adult life. The overcast days are frequent, but the sun does peek through at least a couple times a week, even if only for a few hours. It does rain a lot, but not as constant as is so often reported. The outdoors is honestly fine... It is winter after all.
The real adjustment has been inside. Coming from the US, where the majority of homes are heated in their entirety through a centralized heating system, it has been challenging to adapt to keeping only one or two rooms warm at a time, while the rest of our apartment sits somewhere in the temperature range of 13°-18°C (55°-65°F). This explains why there are doors everywhere to separate spaces. Sweatpants and sweatshirts along with thick socks and slippers have become the norm for fashion at home. As has my habit of sleeping with a knit cap on my bald head (it really helps!).
I AM AN ADAPTER
I believe my adaptability to new cities is derived from a long history of starting life from scratch in new places. In November of 1986, at the age of twenty one, I boarded an Amtrak train in my hometown of Sacramento to start a new life in Seattle. I had two suitcases, a sleeping bag, and $400 cash. Looking back, I also had a surprising amount of gumption. Up until this point in my life, I had never traveled outside of California except for a week in Tijuana during my senior year of high school2, and a few trips across the state line into Nevada. I’d only flown once commercially, and that was to Southern California for a week of training the prior year3.
I chose Seattle because it was (in my mind) a big city, and it was also the furthest place I could go while remaining on the West Coast. When I arrived in Seattle, it was grungy, dingy, mossy, and still living in the past. It was yet to become the uber hipster place it would turn into just a few years later when Grunge exploded and Sub-Pop Records transformed the music industry. Little did I know just how much my life would change. Looking back, I am admittedly impressed with how well I managed to navigate life so many years before the Internet brought the world to one’s fingertips.
Little did I know that I would end up spending my adult life packing up and starting over several more times. My childhood dream was to live in Manhattan, but my path to get there was circuitous to be sure. I had a two year stopover in Portland, Oregon (from ‘89 to ‘91) and then spent the rest of the 1990s in Seattle. Then in 1999, my best friend and I drove from Seattle to Chicago to start a new life there. He ended up leaving Chicago for New York City in 2003 (he was from there). When I was laid off from my job in 2007 (with six months of severance)., I combined that with the equity in my condo4, and parlayed that into finally fulfilling my dream of living in Manhattan.
“IF YOU CAN MAKE IT HERE...”
You know the rest of the line... As cliche as the line is, I proved that I could indeed make it in New York City. Me being the tortoise, “Slow and steady wins the race”, I reached my ultimate goal (at the time) of buying my coop in 2010 with the expectation that should I remain single forever, I could have it paid off by retirement, and have a permanent home in the heart of Manhattan. Then life changed again when I met Yoav in early 2013 and got married in 2014. Little did I ever suspect that in 2017, we would trade our comfortable life on the Upper West Side for an 1850’s rowhouse in Philadelphia.
Is Porto my (our) final landing spot? Honestly, I would like to think so. Given my history of moving cities every eight to ten years, nothing is truly assured. We love Porto, and we can both see ourselves here for a very long time. We also love our apartment, and I want nothing more than to entrench ourselves deeper into our home and stay put. Looking back over the decades, I have never fully unpacked everything when I have moved. Porto seems to be a bit different. I have unpacked more here than I have in the past twenty years.
Porto itself continues to impress. It has culture and charm well beyond cities of similar size in the US. Yet, I am continually amazed by how easy it is to live in and get around in. More than 75% of our daily needs are within a 20 minute walk of home, and when further, the Metro and buses (autocarros) are generally more than adequate. When walking or transit aren’t going to work, there is always the very surprisingly affordable Uber. IKEA is just under ten kilometers away, and it often costs less than ten euros to take an Uber.
I THINK I’M LEARNING PORTUGUESE... I REALLY THINK SO...
We are on the home stretch of our ten month language class for A-1 level Portuguese. Learning a second language for the first time at the age of 60 is not easy. Considering that my writing skills are above average (or so I have been told on several occasions), it may come as a surprise to learn that I failed English in my senior year of high school. I had to take a summer school class to get my diploma. I barely know any formal grammar beyond being able to explain what a noun or a verb is. Classroom settings are just not my ideal learning environment. I am a horrible note taker, and I have always struggled in traditional learning environments. I now understand this even more since my ADHD diagnosis a few years ago (that story is a whole other post).
So... How is my Portuguese coming along?
Well... I am not quite constructing sentences in my head yet, but my vocabulary keeps getting bigger and bigger. When we are out and about I am recognizing so many more words than I knew even a month ago. We purposely chose a slower paced language class so that I could wrap my head around it. I am very determined to learn the language, and would ultimately like to reach B-2 level. I will always talk like a foreigner, but I believe if I can communicate with the confidence of somebody who really wants to be here, I will be much more successful with becoming an asset to my community. I also want to be able to read and understand Portuguese in a manner that I can read the majority of what I see. I’d love to be able to walk into a local livraria (bookstore) and just pick up a book to read.
LIVING IN GRATITUDE
When I think back to earlier times in my life, I had always harbored the notion that I would fit in better in Europe than the US. But I never expected I would ever make the move. Again, life changes happen, and I have learned that when life changes, it is much better to lean in with the changes than to fight them.
This leaves me with just one word..... Gratitude
I spent too many of my younger years not understanding the concept of gratitude. I was always a “glass is half-empty” type of guy. Thanks to a lot of therapy and other self-help guidance, I learned how to see the glass as half-full more often than not. The shift in that viewpoint changed everything for me. I learned that gratitude for what you have paves the way for more to be grateful for.
Yoav and I share with each other on a regular basis how grateful we are for each other, for what we have, and for the life we have been able to carve out together. I believe this to be one of the keys to the success of our marriage. Even during the most challenging moments here dealing with every kind of issue, be it bureaucracy, language challenges, cultural challenges, learning how to do basic things.... Gratitude always carries us through. Above all, we are grateful for the privilege of being able to make this move happen within our means.
Early last month, Yoav and I celebrated twelve years of marriage. Thinking back to 2012 (before we met), I genuinely expected I would always be alone. I had already spent the vast majority of my life living alone and being single. But again.... Being the tortoise that I am, it seems I have won the race. Patience and persistence do pay off... If you let it.
LAST WORD...
Clearly I have been rather lax at writing for pretty much this entire past year. I seriously intended to complete this post and publish it by mid-February... But good intentions do not equate follow-through. I’ve set aside a block of time to write at least a dozen times, and then would do something else entirely. This is when my ADHD really messes with my head. I very much want to keep this writing going, it is therapeutic when I give myself time and permission to work on it.
Next post... Observations as an outsider.
PARTING SHOT:
With fewer than half of Americans holding passports, it is no wonder that the propaganda has been so deeply embedded. I recently stumbled across this YouTuber explaining just a few of the bat-shit crazy things Americans just accept as normal.
During spring break of my senior year in high school, my church youth group joined other church youth groups in California and spent a week doing community service for an orphanage on the outskirts of Tijuana. This was truly an eye-opening experience seeing a level of poverty I had never known existed up until that time. It took me years to fully understand how much that week impacted me and how I see the world.
I had been working as a clerk at a Mobil Gas station in Roseville, CA for about eighteen months, when just after my 20th birthday in 1985, my strong work ethic put me on the fast-track to management. I was selected to attend management courses at their Ontario, California training center. I was flown down for ten days of training, experiencing my first time flying commercially. I was a smoker at the time and fondly remember sitting in the rear of the plane smoking my brains out.
Shortly after my return from training, I was promoted to manage one of their stations in Stockton, CA. My training was focused on the business side of things, which I handled very well. But, I knew nothing about managing a staff of seven people, all of whom were older than I was. I lasted about six months as store manager before my world collapsed around me and I had to resign.
I closed on the sale of my Chicago loft in September of 2007. This turned out to be a very fortuitous timing to sell. Within months, the 2008 Financial Crisis began, and the value of the condo I had just sold dropped by more than 40% within a year. It took years for the value to return to where it was when I sold.
Great stuff! I hope you continue to write. I'm hitting the subscribe button in hopes that you do.
A heartwarming post. I wish you many, many more happy years in Portugal and I hope you get the opportunity to explore some of the other European countries now they are so close.