Welcome to Portugal Living Magazine

With the steady increase of Americans and other English-speakers in Portugal, it became evident — while living in the country’s interior — that news and commentary was focused on one region (the Algarve) with nods to Lisbon and Porto … and presuming that all English-speakers here are British.

Something more than fragmented Facebook groups and online “expat” forums was needed to cover stories of interest throughout all areas of Portugal to people residing here or in the process of relocating to Portugal … from the UK, USA, Canada, Australia, Ireland, Belgium, South Africa, and other English language countries.

That’s why we created Portugal Living Magazine.

Layering a variety of engaging features, integrated departments, continuing columns, commentary, photos, and original artwork, Portugal Living Magazine presents a wide variety of stories about people and places, invaluable information, and answers to questions about living happily in Portugal.

Offering free digital subscriptions and promoting a national community orientation for expats and immigrants, Portugal Living Magazine took root and flourished. In addition to growing issues from 48 to 70 pages, the magazine hosts this popular Facebook Page, a website, and a new YouTube channel.

Different in content and purposes than Facebook groups and online forums, Portugal Living Magazine is delivered directly to subscriber email inboxes. Our Facebook Page is updated daily with dozens of news stories and a wealth of irresistible pictures, while our website includes everything from current and future issues to blog posts, linked resources, and advertising or sponsorship information. Our YouTube channel with original content premieres 1 February.

Read our current issue and subscribe at no cost–for all future one. Complete past issues are also posted on our website, as is a peek at upcoming issues. Some of the best blog posts about Portugal living are conveniently grouped on our website. Adverting data and details, links grouped categorically to indispensable resources from our sponsors and supporters, and complete contact information for reaching us are all on Portugal Living Magazine’s website.

Our continuing commitment is to provide free subscriptions to everyone who wants to read Portugal Living Magazine, with advertising covering the publishing costs of production and distribution. Alas, we’re not there yet. Deficit spending has been funded from the pockets of our founder.

We’ve created ways that you can help: Our Patreon page encourages donors to contribute one, three, or eight euros monthly. Prefer to make a one-time gift? Deposit it directly to our bank account at this IBAN: PT50.0036.0136.99100034067.63.

Felicidades from our team to you and your loved ones!


Bruce H. Joffe
Publisher/Creative Director

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Of Prophets and Poets

Much of what I like most about the King James Version is the beauty inherent to its prose. Whether Psalms, Proverbs, Peter and Paul, or Prophets, I almost always find the version’s way of saying things – even when (mostly) inaccurate—poetic. Which version of the 23rd psalm can compare with the beauty and eloquence of the King James?

My undergraduate education was at the University of Madrid, during the days when Francisco Franco reigned. The world was a frightful place with Vietnam, Watergate, civil rights marches and riots, assassinations of beloved leaders, Khrushchev banging his shoe on a table at the United Nations while threatening “We will bury you!” and campus crusades ending in pools of blood.

In Franco’s Spain, however, the armed civil guard stood sentry on every street … ready to shoot first and (not) ask questions later. Especially when it came to students—university students—who were considered radical rabble-rousers causing trouble.

Young and old, many of us took up the arts for solace—playing music, painting, writing—to quell the anguish in our souls.

Some 50 years ago, I worried these words out in Spanish:

O, mi dolorosa verdad que evade los ojos …

Te buscaba entre las espinas de la vida.

¿Es que has muerto en un siglo cortísimo?

O, que, ya vives,

pudriéndote cada dia?

Roughly translated, my words mourned about the search for a painful and elusive truth, asking if it had died in a short, bygone era … or whether it still lived, albeit diseased and decaying, every day.

I think of my Spanish poem often these days.

Somehow, it seems even more relevant now than then.

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I wish I could find a doctor to treat – and fix – my algorithmea in the same way s/he deals with my allergies and arthritis.

Here in Portugal and Spain, that usually means a medical consult followed by lab tests, more consults, and meds.

If only it were so easy dealing with the algorithms causing my algorithmea!

Like the “Bogie Man” and “El Coco,” they’re invisible (to me, at least), yet have taken hold of my life. Sarting with Facebook:

I realize that every single bit of data about my personal profile – age, income, locations, friends, preferences, politics, education, what I like (or don’t) and follow – is mixed and mingled by Facebook’s manipulations. So, whatever I see on my feed is custom-tailored for me. And, perish the thought that I click on a “sponsored” link! Within minutes, I’m deluged with ads for similar services or products that last for days. Sometimes after a hiatus, they return to haunt me again.

The good news, I guess, is that I’m only receiving promotional messages which, supposedly, will interest me, instead of other junk scattered through the great commercial diaspora.

(The bad news, of course, is that I’m not interested. If I want to buy something or learn more about it, chances are that I’ll be more responsive to my own Google searches than anything that Facebook sends my way.)

Which brings up another symptom of my algorithmea:

I am absolutely certain that these pillars of the Internet’s most powerful platforms collude somewhere in back rooms filled with smoke and mirrors, shaking hands and hand-me-downs of yours truly.

What makes me suspect this conspiracy of complicity against little, old me? Simple! No matter which “social” medium – Amazon, YouTube, LinkedIn or even so-called customer service websites that supposedly provide price comparisons and reviews for whatever I want in my geographical area, they’re almost instantly followed, cloak-and-dagger, by successive posts on Facebook. Heck, even weather channel sites are involved. Whenever I check on the forecasts, wouldn’t you know it that appropriate clothing and accessories for the climate crises appear, ipso facto, on my Facebook feed.

Amazon is just as bad. It keeps records and reminds me of what I bought (when), acknowledging my (good) tastes and encouraging me to reorder. And if I don’t want to, because I’m looking for something else? Presto: Amazon provides slews of suggestions. Next visit, it anticipates my needs and wants, recommending that I take a look-see at the products it recommends. To think, this bazaar, the whole enchilada, started as an online bookstore!

Netflix knows what I like to watch on the screen and is always there – even when the action is paused for a potty break – to recommend others it presumes I will like. Gee, how I miss my school librarian who got to know me and my favorites (genres, authors, styles) before doling out book recommendations.

Maybe it all started with radio?

Pandora, a subscription-based music streaming service owned by Sirius XM Holdings, was founded in 2000 (as Savage Beast Technologies) focusing on recommendations based on the “Music Genome Project” — a means of classifying individual songs by musical traits. The service originally launched in the consumer market as an Internet radio service, which would generate personalized channels based on these traits and songs liked by the user. In 2017, the service launched Pandora Premium, an on-demand version of the service more in line with its competitors: Spotify,YouTube Music, AccuRadio, and a bunch of others that allow you to choose a constant stream of music based on your favorite singers, styles or genres, or even topics.

Let’s say I want to hear Christmas music. Even “Jingle Bells,” despite its huge number of versions and singers. All fine and good. Of course, my one or two cringe-worthy crooners play repeatedly, over and again. Is there a way I can further fine tune my settings so that I get Christmas music including Jingle Bells—except for when performed by Singer X (and Y and Z)?

It’s not just online that I’m plagued by algorithmea.

Consider my car. In addition to telling me when my fuel or tire pressure is running low, it also warns me when it thinks I should up-shift, slow down, correct course, and/or if I’m getting too close to something behind (or before) me. It decides when to turn on my windshield wipers — even if there’s no rain or condensation – and fog lights. I have no desire whatsoever for a self-parking (or -driving) car. Lord, have mercy!

Nor do I want a refrigerator that probes the condition of its contents and informs me of what foods are rotten and should be tossed. Or, somehow, knows what I’m running low on and creates a shopping list for me—complete with suggested menus.

Please don’t misunderstand: I do appreciate, even value, some features of certain “smart” appliances. For instance, my washing machine and dryer. It’s good to know that they’ll compensate for the weight of my load and adjust water levels, spin speeds, and drying time as needed.

“I think; therefore I am” was the end of the search Descartes conducted for a statement that could not be doubted. He found that he could not doubt that he himself existed, as he was the one doing the doubting in the first place. In Latin (the language in which Descartes wrote), the phrase is “Cogito, ergo sum.”

Nowadays, I no longer need to think, as algorithms crunch my data, analyze the findings, and direct my paths accordingly.

“I input, therefore I am output” may be our new mantra.

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Getting to Know the Portuguese:

Some Observations about the People

No country’s population can summarily be described or branded by words—regardless how precise or generalized the terminology. Only by engaging and interacting directly with people do you get to know them, observing how they behave in given situations. And so it is with the Portuguese, a people long associated with a sentiment (saudade) and a song (fado). Yet the Portuguese are smart, motivated, progressive, eco-friendly, compassionate people.

Many Portuguese have a better handle on English than we do on their language. In school, they’re required to study English not as a “foreign” language, but as part of their core curriculum. With certain people, I’ve learned that it’s best to engage with them as they prefer – in English – rather than to insist on practicing our Portuguese.

By no means am I an expert – neither sociologist, anthropologist, nor psychologist – but, in some offbeat ways, I have come to understand a handful of habits and willful ways of these western Iberia inhabitants.

While scientific reasoning objects to reaching collective conclusions about a people based on the experiences of one person from another country, perhaps such indigenous “tendencies” might be better ascribed as cultural. We can better understand Portuguese behavior – and react accordingly – if we are aware of cultural norms and traits.

Our initial encounters with Portuguese people took place online: Facebook. I received a message from the son of the woman we purchased our property from in Lousa — a village of about 550 in Castelo Branco that gets confused with Lousã in Coimbra — informing me that it had been raining quite hard for over a week and, now, the wind had pushed open one of the doors on our second floor balcony. Who knows how or why it happened, but the point was to get that door firmly closed asap. We put out an emergency call for help to members of several local Facebook groups we’d joined–using Google Translate, of course. Shortly thereafter, we heard via Messenger that a man and woman from the village had taken a ladder and toolbox to our house. The soaked wet senhor climbed up onto our balcony and succeeded in securing the door. Unfortunately, trying to leave, he discovered that the front door had been locked from the inside. No key was found. So, he went back to the second floor living room and let himself out, securing the errant door behind him before retreating down those slippery ladder steps.

Alex and Olga are among our closest friends in Portugal now.

While friendly and caring, the Portuguese are essentially private people. They’ll make you feel welcome by bringing baskets of fruits and vegetables from their gardens, ironically, they will never intrude. It’s highly unlikely that they’ll even step inside your house, no matter how long you are neighbors. Knocking on the door and conversing outside is one thing … but coming inside is quite another. It’s just not done.

This isn’t the case only with “foreigners”; it’s how the Portuguese treat each other. Of course, they get together for meals and camaraderie, but such festivities usually take place in a café or eating establishment—not in their homes.

Like many of us, Portuguese people are “caught up in the moment” and totally focused on whomever they’re dealing with or speaking to, often keeping us waiting for their attention. Go into any supermarket and you’ll see workers talking to customers (or other workers). They won’t even make eye contact with you until they’re finished with their current interlocutor. Curiously, however, there are some Portuguese who will disregard etiquette and break into line or interrupt a conversation.

Supermarkets bring up food and another interesting aspect of Portuguese customs: their time in restaurants. Unlike the USA (and elsewhere?) where – miraculously! – everything takes the same amount of time to prepare and cook so that everyone at the table is served simultaneously, dishes in Portugal are brought out helter-skelter, independently. You can be finished your meal before your tablemates get theirs. A classic case of eating alone, together. Good thing that wine is so cheap and bread plentiful!

Food and meals are taken quite seriously in Portugal—at least as regards their times allotted. Lunch time, especially, is revered. No matter what they are doing, it stops between 13h and 15h (1:00-3:00) or 13h30 and 15h30 (1:30-3:30). After all, we need a half-hour to get where we’re eating and another 30 minutes to return. Those 60 minutes sandwiched in between are necessary to be served and eat with gusto (gosto). To savor and digest the food slowly, with beer or some wine.

Our expectations don’t always jive with the Portuguese’s when it comes to work being contracted. They will perform their jobs meticulously … but if it’s not in the job description or contract, the Portuguese don’t believe it’s necessarily their responsibility.

Example? We had the electric wiring throughout our house upgraded, which necessitated the installation of a new circuit box, as called for in our contract. After days banging and chiseling out the old cement surrounding our antiquated panel to accommodate the space required for the (larger) new one, the circuit box was installed. But all the plaster and dust settling everywhere following the wall surgery? Not their problem. Nor was the awkward frame of new, off-white plaster which stood out like the proverbial sore thumb needing rendering and painting to match the beige wall. Another time, Portuguese workers installing new windows and doors in our house (accidentally) cut the door bell wires. Our problem to fix it, not theirs. They’re installers, not electricians.

Of course, many Portuguese tradesmen and contractors clean up after themselves and go the extra mile in their work. Point is, don’t take it for granted or expect it to be done. We’ve learned that old ounce of prevention is more than worth a pound of cure by spelling out our expectations precisely when negotiating contracts and agreements.

Whether forgetful, negligent, or devil-may-care, some Portuguese people take days to answer an email … if they respond at all. Immediacy just isn’t that important. Promptness or priority isn’t often the issue; it’s just that the Portuguese often don’t see any reason or need for responding. To their credit, sometimes we foreigners don’t know when enough is enough: I send a digital greeting card to family or friends. They reply, thanking me for the card and thinking of them. I reply with a thumbs-up or smile emoticon. They feel obliged to respond in kind. And, so it goes …

On the road, the Portuguese may be daredevil (or slowpoke) drivers, but they actually stop at pedestrian crossings, yielding way to people. It’s a lesson in civility (and safety) that many of us should take more seriously.

Like Covid, the Coruna virus.

It says something special and relevant about the people of Portugal that the country has one of the world’s highest vaccination rates. So far, Portugal has administered at least 19,476,353 doses of COVID vaccines. Assuming every person needs two doses, that’s enough to have vaccinated about 94.8% of the country’s population–with booster shots not far behind. People wear masks and follow directives issued by the state’s national health department. Not only do they care about themselves, they’re concerned about others.

Often considered the “Canadians of Europe,” there’s one thing capable of angering the Portuguese: They don’t appreciate being compared to the Spanish.

And, why should they?

All nationalities have quirks and idiosyncrasies that set them apart; that’s part of the charm of the people and the place. After the initial culture shock, you’re sure to find the Portuguese welcoming and wonderful people!

Bruce is publisher and creative director of Portugal Living Magazine.

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