Are Americans ‘Flocking in Droves’ to Portugal?

In a word, no.

“For the seventh year in a row, the immigrant population in Portugal has increased, totaling 752,252 in 2022,” writes Lara Silva in in Portugal.com. “According to the Immigration and Borders Service (SEF), there was an increase of 58,365 immigrants in comparison to the year prior (2021), an 8.3% increase.”

The largest growing immigrant populations in Portugal in 2022 were from Brazil and India. The Brazilian community remains the largest immigrant population in Portugal, with over 230,000 people, a 13% increase since 2021, according to Silva (and SEF). The Indian community also increased by 13% to around 34,000 residents, making it the fourth-largest immigrant population in Portugal.

According to SEF, the 10 largest immigrant populations in Portugal are:

  1. Brazil (233,138)
  2. United Kingdom (36,639)
  3. Cape Verde (35,744)
  4. India (34,232)
  5. Italy (33,707)
  6. Angola (30,417)
  7. France (27,614)
  8. Ukraine (26,898)
  9. Romania (23,967)
  10. Nepal (23,441)

Nowhere near that figure are (North) Americans–whether from the USA or Canada.

Data from the Portuguese Immigration and Border Service show that only 216 of the 1,281 foreigners granted permanent residence in Portugal in 2022 came from the United States. Overall, we make up less than 1.5% of the country’s total immigrant population. Statistically, we don’t move the needle.

So, why are the Portuguese increasingly pointing fingers at Americans as the source of their malaise … unable to afford the costs of living in their own country?

Frankly, it’s a matter of politics, not pocketbook economics or immigration.

Brazilians are the most prevalent foreign nationality. The 239,744 resident Brazilians represent 2.29% of the total population. Other significant foreign communities (excluding naturalized citizens) are the ones from other countries of the Lusosphere. In 2023 there were 110,517 from PALOP countries (Equatorial GuineaGuinea-BissauSão Tomé and PrincipeAngolaMozambiqueCape Verde) as well as from Timor-Leste and Macau, corresponding to 1.06% of the total population. In addition, there is a thriving community of people from the Indian subcontinent (chiefly Indians and Nepalis) adding up to 86,698 people or 0.83% of total population. A number of EU citizens have also chosen Portugal as a destination, with the majority being part of the British, Italian, French, German, Spanish, Dutch, Belgian or Swedish communities. These communities are mostly composed of persons looking for quality of life and include an increasing number of pensioners.

Again, no mention of Americans.

It is important to acknowledge that Portugal has become a great destination for expats, digital nomads and international investors looking for a stable country to reside and invest. It is a safe country, with “comfortable” weather, stunning pristine beaches, and an effervescent cultural scene, making Portugal a hotspot for foreigners seeking a great place to emigrate. The friendly population, universal health coverage, free public schools system, and receptive policies, likewise, are elements that define Portugal as among the better destinations for a foreigner to live and grow roots. Even the language is not that a great barrier, since Portugal has one of the biggest English populations in Europe and offers a free translation service available through a simple phone call

Because of the few Americans they’ve come across daily, many Portuguese people assumed that everyone who speaks English is British. Thanks to the USA’s massive media machine and social media, now almost everyone who speaks English is assumed to be American. Articles come out almost daily saying Americans are driving up housing prices, putting Portuguese people out of their homes. It’s beginning to feel as though (some) Portuguese people resent Americans and have stopped welcoming us to their country.

Truth be told, Portugal is being oversold.

Professionals are pumping up the rhetoric and joining the bandwagon of those selling Portugal. Grocers specializing in food products generally hard to find ship them to your doorstep. Therapists deal with post-expat syndrome and other unsettling behaviors. Lawyers cater to the big slice of business that comprises the market of people needing NIFs, bank accounts, and houses. Property agencies are a dime a dozen. Relocation experts promise to facilitate the transition. Packed tighter than sardines in a tin are webinars, blogs, vlogs, and YouTube channels catering to expats, immigrants, and foreigners. We have countless scores of people and groups teaching Portuguese in a variety of formats. Others arrange round-trip scouting trips to the destination(s) of client interest(s), as well as charter flights bringing people and their pets to Portugal. Customized trips and tours are at your disposal, as are money lenders and currency brokers. Portugal itself is subsidizing numerous public relations undertakings that lure people — tourists, travelers, and residents — to its land of the fado and saudade.

Yesterday, I posted an article on my personal Facebook feed about our budget and expenses here in Portugal. (We spend significantly less and have a greater quality of life than in the USA.) Immediately, I was attacked: “Enough! You should know better because you live here. Don’t encourage any more Americans to come here … you are making it impossible for the Portuguese people to live in their own country,” indignantly came a response in Portuguese. Angry, belligerent, and frustrated, she demanded that I remove my post. With nasty, condemning words, she pointed a finger personally at me for failures of a society.

I can understand her frustrations.

“There are probably all sorts of reasons to resent US citizens, starting with our last 50 or more years of foreign policy,” writes Barbara Grassey. “Reality TV is a good reason, too. The MAGA mentality is seen as naïve and offensive. Fortunately, Portuguese people mostly find the things we do odd, more than something that needs to be resented.”

Inflation and housing prices are going up everywhere.

Are Americans driving up the prices?

Americans may be more willing to pay higher prices for housing because their frame of reference is US housing prices. But there aren’t enough US citizens in Portugal to be the sole driver (or really any kind of driver) of higher housing prices.

Part of the problem is that wages are low here. Portuguese minimum wage is €887 per month or about $967–the lowest in western Europe. In Portugal’s larger, preferred, and coastal cities, the average rent for a one bedroom begins at €600 to €700–and more. One thousand euros seems closer to average. So yes, just like in the US, people making minimum wage or a little more cannot afford housing in areas where their families have lived for generations. That is bad and wrong, no matter what country you’re in. Jobs are in the cities; affordable housing is outside the cities. Americans coming in with remote jobs or retirement income are better able to afford these places, but even some of them are looking outside the cities due to the skyrocketing rents.

Will this housing problem be resolved? There are no quick and easy solutions, but the Portuguese government is making moves to help keep costs down. 

Some of the housing upheaval has been caused by corporations buying up large numbers of apartments in major cities and tourist areas for Airbnb-type rentals. A new law put in place bans short term rentals (read: Airbnb) in residential buildings where people live permanently. An Airbnb host can make a lot more money with overpriced short term rentals than s/he can on an annual rental agreement. This new law should limit the number of Airbnbs and create more permanent housing for residents, which will hopefully stabilize rents and perhaps cut the ROI for overpriced units, making them a bad investment. While I don’t expect prices to go down, hopefully it will stall some of the huge price jumps and settle the market.

The Portuguese Golden Visa program also has changed its requirements to encourage investment outside of the popular cities where Portuguese are being priced out of housing. Minimum investment for a Golden Visa has been raised to €500,000 and, if you’re investing in residential real estate, you are restricted to buying in the interior of Portugal (not in popular coastal areas like Lisbon, Porto, and The Algarve) or Madeira and the Azores. The “record numbers” of US citizens receiving Golden Visas in 2021 was 102. Few Americans are arriving waving wads of cash and screwing the housing market.

Also to be considered is Portugal’s debt.

“While the troika (comprising the European Central Bank, the European Commission, and the International Monetary Fund) was determining Portugal’s fate, China was busy buying Portuguese companies,” charged writer Jochen Faget. “That trend has continued. Is the EU member on the road to economic and political dependence?”

“At one time the Portuguese power company Energias de Portugal (EDP) was a proud state- owned company with more than 25,000 employees. Soon it could be a lucrative corporation owned by the Chinese,” Faget predicts. China Three Gorges (CGT), a state owned power company which already owns a quarter of EDP, has made a takeover bid on the Lisbon Stock Exchange, intending to buy the remainder of the company’s stock.

It’s part of a ‘master plan’ with which the People’s Republic wants to take over key areas of the Portuguese economy, warn critics. The Portuguese government, on the other hand, says that the Chinese are just as welcome as any other foreign investors.

The chronically cash-strapped government of hard hit Portugal is pleased with the Chinese financial injections — especially since they helped the country at the western end of Europe through the tough troika (made up of the European Central Bank, the European Commission and the International Monetary Fund) period. The Chinese even stepped up during the crisis and bought — as no one else did — Portuguese government debt.

Today, the Portuguese insurance company Fidelidade belongs to the Chinese Fosun Group, just like the highly lucrative private clinic operator Luz Saude. Fosun also controls a quarter of the Millennium BCP Bank. Haitong bought the investment bank BESI for €379 million ($423 million at the time).The HNA Group became a junior partner at the airline TAP. The Portuguese power grid operator REN is now part of China’s State Grid International. In Sines, south of Lisbon, a barely used deep-sea port is being expanded by Chinese companies.

Chinese investment raised through golden visas totaled 433.7 million euros between 2020 and July 2023, with eight visas granted that month, according to SEF data, reports The Portugal News

“The Chinese are investing mainly in finance, insurance and banking, as well as infrastructure,” said Ilidio Serodio, vice president of the Portuguese-Chinese Chamber of Commerce in the capital.

Meanwhile, a total of 78% of US companies anticipated new investments on Portuguese soil, according to the most recent Barometer of the American Chamber of Commerce in Portugal cited by The Portugal News in March 2022. “In a universe of around 1,000 American companies in Portuguese territory – which employ close to 50,000 workers – 75% believe their turnover will increase this year, while 25% predict that it will continue. Regarding investments, the trend is similar. A total of 78% of US companies anticipate new investments on national soil, with 19% not expecting to make any investments.”

Whether capitalism or communism, Portuguese nationals are less concerned about corporate buyouts and takeovers … unless they’re directly affected consequentially. Isn’t it easier to take umbrage at individuals collectively than at multi-national corporations?

As is unfortunately true in many nations worldwide — especially in western Europe — the growth of alt-right politics always requires a scapegoat for its purposes and propaganda:

Americans.

But let’s not forget that Americans, especially the USA, historically have been welcoming of Portuguese immigrants.

In 1957–58, the Capelinhos volcano erupted on the Azorean island of Faial, causing massive destruction from lava and smoke. In response, then Senators John F. Kennedy and John Pastore co-sponsored an Azorean Refugee Act. President Dwight Eisenhower signed the legislation in 1958, making 1,500 visas available to victims of the eruption. An extension was enabled in 1962, providing opportunities for even more Portuguese immigrants. According to the United States Census from 2000, there were 1,176,615 Portuguese-Americans, the majority being of Azorean descent.

This led to the passing of the 1965 Immigration Act, which stated if someone has legal or American relatives in the United States, they could serve as a sponsor and, therefore could be a legal alien. This act dramatically increased Portuguese immigration into the 1970s and 1980s. Today, a national organization — PALCUS — represents Portuguese-Americans.

By and large, we don’t want to be those “ugly Americans” of lore.

For the most part, Americans who move to Portugal tend to be respectful and sensitive. We don’t want to change Portugal. Someone who moves anywhere and starts a sentence with “Well, back home we did it like this …” is not going to be happy and will most likely leave.

Actually, many of them do.

Portugal Living Magazine Publisher Bruce H. Joffe has lived in Portugal for almost six years.

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A Victim of Internet Thieves

The name on her Portuguese bank account is “Lucilla Sous.” On the Certificate of Delivery for the car I purchased from her online, she’s identified as Fernandes Da Silva Câtia. And according to her Facebook profile — which shows that she moved with her family from Barcelos in Braga (Portugal) to Valence, Rhone-Alpes (France) in January this year — she goes by Catia Vanessa Rego Barbosa.

No matter.

Spanish and Portuguese people, especially, are given and take on any number of names. In our *correspondence, I just called her Vanessa.

I first contacted her late in July 2023 for more information about a car she had listed for sale. It was advertised on a number of sites, which, by now, had been scrubbed. But the ad is still listed here. It’s a 2008 X-Type Jaguar 2.2 diesel with about 203,500 miles on the odometer, not bad for a 15-year-old car in the European Union. And this one was loaded: GPS Navigation, leather seats, moon roof, front and rear parking sensors, leather upholstery, heated seats, sports suspension … literally everything available in that model and year. As can be seen in the top photo above, the car was said to be “Como Novo” … like new.

This was to be a “new” toy for an old man (me), who had been infatuated with the sexy Jaguar X-Type (2004-2008 models) I had owned — new and used — between 2004 and 2017 while living in the USA. Unlike the American versions which came with all wheel drive, large V6 (3.0) gasoline engines and muscular “leapers” on their “bonnets,” the EU versions were mainly diesel, front wheel drive, and unadorned with machismo. Produced on the east side of the pond between 2001 and 2009, the gas (petrol) version was known to be a gas-guzzler, while the diesel engines were stronger, lasted longer, got far better mileage, and — strange as it seems — emitted less carbon into the atmosphere. Introduced in in mid-2005, the 2.2 diesel engine was superior in many ways to the smaller 2.0, according to reviews.

I had done my homework and knew that the advertised price of €3,000 for a car of this description was extraordinary; people in Jaguar X-Type groups couldn’t believe it and suggested I buy it and then flip it for twice the price.

If it’s too good to be true, trust me: it probably is!

Vanessa said that the car had been in storage since they moved to France and no longer had any need or use for it. She wanted a quick sale which she believed would be difficult, as the car would need to be transported from France to Portugal (where the car was still registered and had nine months left before its next required inspection) at extra cost: €906, which she would split with a buyer.

The storage agent/transporter also went by several names: On their website, the name is DL Transport Logistics, although their URL is dimilogistics.com. Their French bureau is headquartered at 4th avenue, C Saint-Denis, but the office I would be dealing with is elsewhere in France—at 19 Rue Henry Bordeaux, 74000 Annecy. The company also has an office in Luxembourg. Stamped on documents I received from it was DIMI Logistics Transport, although they referred to themselves as DLT. So did I.

From everything on their website, they appeared to be legit. No bad reviews (I searched) and a robust series of services.

Then, again, what did I know? Although I could understand and reply to emails with Vanessa in Portuguese, I had abandoned any French more than 50 years ago and needed to rely on Google Translate with a bit of tweaking to communicate with DL Transport Logistics.

On 15 August, I agreed to purchase the car and transferred €1,453 to Vanessa (aka Lucilla Sous). We agreed €1,000 would be a deposit on the €3,000 car and she’d transfer €453 to the delivery agent as my half of the transport fees to bring the car from France.

The next day (16 August), I received a flurry of documents from DLT, four in all: delivery information, a transport form, a delivery contract/guarantee, and – of course – an invoice. The documents informed me when the car would leave the facility, when it would arrive at my home, how it would be transported (by truck), the driver’s name, terms and conditions. Buried somewhere in the fine print was a statement that an additional €3,000 deposit, refundable three (3) days after the car was delivered, must be paid before the car could leave. Search as I did, I couldn’t find it.

I emailed Vanessa about this.

“Yes,” she agreed. “It’s additional insurance … for the truck, or the car, or the driver, or the person who’d be accompanying the driver. I’ve already transferred my €1,000 to DLT.” Vanessa insisted it would be better – and quicker – if I transferred the €2,00 to her for immediate transfer to DLT. “That way,” she proposed, “you won’t have to pay anything more when the car arrives. It will be yours.”

No, I demurred, I’d rather stick to our original agreement. So, on 16 August, I transferred €2,000 via immediate payment, as required, to DLT.

“The car will be delivered to your home on 19/08/2023 at 16:30,” said the email I received from DLT. “The order has already been given to the courier in charge of ordering this car for delivery. In accordance with the method chosen by the sender, the transport company takes a guarantor in the car to the agreed address. The courier will depart on 16/08/2023 at 18:45 (French time) and we will progressively inform you of your journey so that you become available to receive the car.”

My delivery, however, was cancelled the next day. Neither DLT nor Vanessa informed me of this; I learned about it through my bank online: DLT had refunded €2,000 to my account.

Responding to my “what happened?” email, Vanessa said, “Since yesterday we have a problem with the transport company that I am trying to resolve with my husband. We are doing everything in our power to resolve the situation and the transport company will continue with the delivery. So, don’t worry!”

But the weekend intervened.

On Monday, 21 August, I heard again from Vanessa. Insisting that the matters between her and DLT had been resolved, she stated that it would be best and most expedient for me to send her the €2,000 deposit, which she would transfer immediately to DLT. DLT agreed. But I refused. Instead, I sent €2,000 a second time to DLT via immediate transfer.

That same evening (21 August), the delivery was again cancelled by DLT. Again, I wasn’t told about the cancellation, but learned about it from the refund to my bank account. This time, however, there were differing accounts about what had happened.

According to DLT, the car had been stopped at the border between Spain and France because Vanessa had seven unpaid fines and tickets.

“Normally, I would forward messages from the carrier to you,” wrote Vanessa. “But the situation does not concern you. The car was stopped at the France-Spain border, and I have an unpaid fine that I must pay before the car is released. This is not the shipping company’s fault or your fault. But … I will resolve the situation. I hope you understand.” The next day (Sunday), she added, “I already fixed the problem. Tomorrow, the carrier will pick up the car and continue the delivery. I have resolved the situation and I think you will have the car tomorrow or Tuesday at the latest.”

Strange. What government agencies work on Sundays … or Saturdays, for that matter? Where was the courier and why was he to pick up my car the next day? Where was the car? And why was the car stopped and inspected when it was supposed to be inside a truck?

An hour later that Sunday, Vanessa sent me another email: “They (DLT) required (a) deposit to make an express delivery. It’s just an additional 78 euros. I will pay tomorrow morning. As they are late, they offered express delivery so the car (would be) delivered quickly.”

That was in addition to the €2,000 deposit which I would need to send DLT for a third time.

Once, shame on you; twice, shame on me! DLT had already refunded my €2,000 deposits–twice, which instilled a sort of confidence in me.

I exchanged a series of emails with Vanessa the following morning, notifying her that I no longer wanted the car. I said I didn’t trust her. She pleaded with me to finalize the purchase and had the transport company contact me to assure me that all was well. And again, I was told by DLT and Vanessa that the delivery would be expedited – and move forward – if I sent the €2,000 to her for immediate transfer to DMI. Still, I refused. This time, DLT gave me a Spanish account and IBAN in the name of Ribeiro Sampaio SC (a Portuguese, not Spanish, spelling) they told me was theirs to transfer the €2,000 deposit … which I did.

I didn’t hear from Vanessa again, but on Tuesday, 22 August, I received a series of email notifications from DLT:

“The driver is not in possession of the delivery document; the act of delivery will be sent to you at 6 p.m. by email. The driver will start in a few minutes. After his departure the delivery time will be given to you. But the driver will drive a maximum of 9 hours.” (12:44 PM)

“The estimated time for delivery to your home is 7 hours 54 minutes. The driver has already left. Thanks.” (1:33 PM).

“Can you suggest hotels near you?” (3:26 PM)

“The driver has just crossed the Portuguese border. He will take an hour’s rest before continuing on his merry way.” (5:22 PM)

• At 6:58 PM, I asked, “Where is he in Portugal please? I’m trying to visualize the route he’s following.

“One moment please…” came the reply at 7:01 PM. “About 1 km from the Quintanilha border. He’ll be back on the road in a few minutes.”

• “That’s about 5 hours to us in Vila Boim,” I replied at 8:10 PM. “Do you still intend to deliver the car tonight? Should I stay awake and wait…or will you deliver the car tomorrow?”

“There are two hours left for the driver to come to your home,” came the reply at 11:28 PM. But the time it is it will pass tomorrow before 9am. Stay connected …”

• At 10:09 AM Wednesday, the car hadn’t arrived. I sent this email: “I’m starting to worry.”

• The reply came at 10:21 AM: “Good morning. The road police just stopped the car this morning for unpaid tickets. We are currently resolving the problem with Madame Vanessa. You can go to place and check with your own eyes if you want because the car is already on Portuguese territory. Please wait …”

None of this made sense anymore—if it ever did! Wasn’t the transporter stopped days earlier at the France-Spain border for traffic violations Vanessa hadn’t paid? Did she have unpaid tickets both in France and Portugal? Why was the truck stopped again and inspected … with the vehicle’s information conveyed to the authorities, anyway? As alarming as all this seemed, it was complicated by a second email from the driver:

“Your car should be delivered,” I was informed eight hours later at 6:23 PM. “The driver didn’t quickly leave his hotel today; we had trouble sending him money and doing some repairs on the car. Two tires are worn and have been changed. Repair times and the time it takes for banks to receive transfers affect the delivery time. This is the car that the driver drives from the Spanish border to Portugal. The tires are probably worn.”

The pieces began tumbling together. My car hadn’t been transported by truck, as contracted. Instead, it was driven more than 1,500 miles … which I never would have agreed to, given that the car already had 203,500 kms on its odometer. Who knows what had happened to it enroute from France to Portugal? Besides, the company’s own transport document listed “transporter truck” as its mode of transportation!

I had been duped. A victim of Internet thievery … in this case, conspiracy between the seller of an automobile and a transport agent determined to defraud me. I never did receive the car. Nor did either Vanessa or DLT reply to any of my emails. I was out €3,453.

Hindsight is always 20/20, especially when you want and anticipate something so eagerly. Senses dulled, you’re not fully aware of what’s happening. Or isn’t. Or shouldn’t be.

Neither Mme Vanessa nor DL Transport Logistics know me. They have no idea the lengths I will go to see them brought to justice. Already, my attorney in Portugal has been advised. And I’ve made initial contact with police departments in Portugal, France, and the European Union that specialize in Internet crimes.

Hopefully, you’ll never be conned by Internet crime. If you suspect that you have, please bypass those sponsored ads that come up first in Google searches. Despite their promises, some of them can make a bad thing even worse. Instead, be sure to keep careful records, to contact your lawyer, and to touch base with your local police.

If you’ve been swindled on the Internet, you can also start the complaints process online.

In Portugal, Safe Communities Portugal recommends this link: https://www.safecommunitiesportugal.com/report-a-crime-online/swindle-deception

Another Portugal site for reporting cybercrime: https://en.ministeriopublico.pt/en/contato/cybercrime-office

In France, use this link:  https://www.service-public.fr/particuliers/vosdroits/R19620

In the European Union: https://www.europol.europa.eu/operations-services-and-innovation/services-support/joint-cybercrime-action-taskforce

Vanessa and DL Transport have been copied on this report … so that they will know what’s happening when they receive visits from the police.

*I have all correspondence, notices, and documentation referred to herein.

Bruce H. Joffe is publisher and creative director of Portugal Living Magazine.

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Shame on You, Portugal!

The post was published in one of the Facebook groups for towns and villages surrounding Penamacor in Central Portugal. But it’s only exemplary—it could (probably has been!) posted anywhere and everywhere across Portugal or, for that matter, Spain.

It began with a heart-wrenching photo of a dog.

“Does anyone recognize this dog by any chance?” were the words below it. “Poor boy is skeletal and covered in ticks. We’ve managed to get him in our car and are going to take him to the vet. He’s very scared and also friendly. I’m hoping he’s just lost.”

An update quickly followed: “No chip. The vet gave him a tick tablet. That’s all the vet can do for now, so we desperately need help. Can anybody, please, house him until we are able to sort either a home or sanctuary for him? We’re happy to pay for his dog food, etc.”

A second update was posted: “’Arnie’ slept through the night really well. He didn’t whimper or cry once, nor did he leave any mess. He is now flea- and tick-free and is showing signs of trust. Surprisingly, he hasn’t shown any aggression towards our cat, Bob. Now he has the chance to get healthy and find a family, as he deserves.”

Comments came fast and furious.

“Hundreds of dogs are abandoned here every day,” exclaimed an angry Miguel. “The kennels are full and there are no mechanisms for dealing with these issues.”

The author of the original post replied, “I know, it’s really sad. My partner has been in the kennel life over here, so we are very aware. We are trying to prevent Arnie from going to the Canil, as it’s no life for a dog. Not sure what we are going to do. For now, we will keep him at home, bathe him, and keep our dogs away until we can find somewhere to place him.”

Miguel quickly replied: “There are over 30 dogs in the farm next to mine that are extremely poorly treated. No vaccines, no treatments, no anything. They have so many insects, it looks like a horror movie when you’re close. I’ve contacted every government agency and animal advocacy group in Portugal. No one will do anything.”

He continued, “They keep having puppies and, when they’re older, they abandon them. They barely feed them; so, at night, they get into all the trash in the village and city in order to eat. They’re not neutered, so there’s constantly more. We find dead puppies all the time.”

I cringed when reading this. We, too, had found litters of day-old puppies trashed in the bins of our small village outside Castelo Branco. The first time, only one survived. We brought him home, stopping enroute to buy puppy formula, a couple of light blankets, a hot water bottle, and a toy. We shared responsibilities with Olga, another animal advocate in our village. We kept and cared for him during the days while she was at work. She picked him up on her way home from work and dropped him off with us the next morning. Both of us had other dogs of our own. No matter, this was an imperative. We nursed the baby until he was three weeks old, and his darling eyes had opened. A lovely British family living in a caravan then took him and kept him, ensuring he was properly treated and trained. Not even a month later, Olga knocked on our door. In her hand was a towel covering two tiny puppies her mother had found in another bin in the village. “Can you take him for me, just until I get home from work?” she asked. “We can do what we did last time, until someone who’ll adopt them can be found.” There was no question. Incredibly, the same Brits who adopted our first foundling took both of the babies and fostered them, sharing photos with us as they grew and finally found forever homes with others.

“The government needs to do more,” Tonii, the original poster, replied to Miguel. “This is a serious problem, poor souls. I will never be able to understand and wish I could do more to help!”

“Call the IRA (Intervenção e Resgate Animal),” suggested Jenny, who had joined the conversation. The IRA’s mission is to rescue animals that are victims of mistreatment, negligence, or when their welfare conditions provided for by law are not guaranteed.

Miguel replied, “The IRA told me they won’t respond so far outside of Lisbon and to call the local police. Police won’t do anything. The municipal vet says the kennel is full. That I should build fences. The government doesn’t do anything.”

Condolences and words of support from others began to appear in the comments.

“Thank you for what you are doing for this poor animal. Hope you will find a good home for him; he deserves a better life,” began Kristine.

“Thank you for helping!” echoed Sonja. “Poor thing, that could be the reason why I can’t really live in Portugal. I couldn’t stand the suffering. I would like to support, but I already did for a dog, 200 Euros, then he got hit by a car! I support every month a friend in Morocco. She saves donkeys, horses, dogs, cats. It’s amazing! Wish you all the best with this. Love from Belgium!”

“It is hard, at first it was a big culture shock, and I guess still is,” Tonii told Sonja. “But after living here three years, I know that not every dog you see on the street is a stray. A lot of Portuguese allow their dogs to roam freely here. But when they are in this state, you know they aren’t just roaming … they’re abandoned. It is hard, but please be careful what you say. The other day I was called xenophobic and racist for saying that Portugal needs to get with the times (i.e., education and help from government for poorer communities that can’t afford to neuter their animals). We have brought him home for now. He’s had a bath, some food, and is now resting in the other room. If we had the space (and fewer dogs), I’d keep him in a heartbeat. He’s so gentle.”

“Maybe he’s a lost hunting dog?” Hélia interjected. “The way he is, so skinny, shows that he’s probably been abandoned for a long time.” Jennifer agreed: “Probably a hunting dog left behind. They starve them for months, at least that’s what they do on this island.”

“Hunting dogs are usually chipped as they are worth a fair bit to the owners,” stated Caroline. Arnie wasn’t chipped, though.

“It’s heartbreaking, every time I see a new abandoned dog I want to help; but already having five, it isn’t possible,” shared Julie and several others. 

“Julie, this is how we ended up with 20 … not through choice but found on the streets in terrible condition,” Diane told her. “I know what you mean,” replied Julie, but sometimes you have to draw a line and give the best life to the rescues you already have.”

Portugal and Spain both have laws about mistreating and abandoning animals. As shown here, however, that doesn’t mean they can – or will – enforce them. And woe to the foreigners who intercede on behalf of these misbegotten critters. We’re called out, ridiculed, and told to go back where we came from if this devil-may-care attitude irritates us so much.

After all, it is their culture.

Bruce H. Joffe is publisher and creative director of Portugal Living Magazine
www.facebook.com/PortugalLivingMagazine

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So Be It …

It is without shame, guilt, regret, or apologies that I acknowledge:

• I will never be Portuguese, no matter what I do or how hard I try.

• I will always be a foreigner living in Portugal. Even with permanent residency and Portuguese citizenship, I will still be an outsider who has been allowed in.

• Belonging, however, is different. After five years, I really do feel a sense of belonging here–that I have adapted to my habitat and that it has adopted me.

• Whether I like it or not, I cannot help but interpret what’s happening around me through the lens of my personal upbringing and cultural heritage. This may or may not be a good thing.

• Things are done differently here. I need to take deep breaths and exercise my patience when I do everything correctly but the “system” malfunctions or the bureaucracy balks.

• I am an immigrant residing in Portugal with no intention of moving “back home” (or anywhere else). Others who live here for a time and/or a reason, but plan to move on, are the only real expats.

• I will never speak Portuguese as the natives do. But I can strive to communicate with others in myriad situations and to do my best to understand the people’s language.

• Out of respect and interest, I participate in Portuguese holidays, ferias, other events and rituals; but I’m engaged without being able to fully feel, appreciate, or identify with the spirit and soul — the “why” — behind some cultural customs and traditions.

• It is because of my homeland that I can live as I do in Portugal.

• Although I have left my homeland to live abroad in Portugal, I can never cut the umbilical cord that ties me to whence I came. I vote from abroad here and care what happens there.

• While I live in the midst of Portuguese people, my lifestyle is probably different from theirs. I can afford big and little luxuries — air conditioning, a modern kitchen, extra bedrooms, a new car — that many of them can’t. It behooves me to be sensitive to this difference.

• Whenever possible, I try to buy locally … without disrupting, depriving, or displacing the Portuguese people or their land.

• Because I benefit from residing in Portugal — health care, education, elder care, etc. — I contribute to the country’s Social Security … even though, because of my age and limited years of contributions, I’ll never qualify for even the most minimal of pensions.

• I am but a guest here, yet I do have a right to abhor malevolent practices–from abandonment, abuse, or neglect of domestic animals to charging different prices for foreigners and native locals.

• For whatever their reasons, some people decide that Portugal is not for them and leave the country. It is incumbent upon me to be empathetic and understanding, not snide or sarcastic, about the life they choose to pursue elsewhere–whatever and wherever it may be.

Bruce H. Joffe is publisher and creative director of Portugal Living Magazine.

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MEO & Me

There are some bureaucracies that frustrate me.

Others annoy and make me angry.

MEO – the largest telecommunications provider in Portugal – belongs to the latter.

So, when I read that MEO has been hit with a €2.46 million fine imposed by Portuguese media regulator Anacom, which found that MEO had violated rules applicable to the termination of contracts on the initiative of subscribers … nor had it confirmed complaints about contracts submitted by customers … and also provided incomplete information on the means and contacts available for submitting termination requests, I cheered.

Because my household and I are among MEO’s most recent victims.

Did you know that once your “loyalty period” (fidelização) – usually 24 months – is over, you are free to change companies and/or plans. Whichever offers you the most for the least.

At the time, our bills for both houses were totaling 140-150€ per month.

We trekked over to the large MEO store in the Forum shopping center, only to learn that its function is only to sell MEO packages and products. We couldn’t discuss the better terms we had seen advertised, nor could we cancel, change, or remove a second móvel which we no longer used, from our account. That would have to be done by phone, the salesman informed us, asking for a good time to have a customer service representative contact us. We could negotiate a better deal during the call.

“Will whoever calls speak English?” I asked. My faltering Portuguese was substantial to engage in conversations, ask and answer questions, and talk to my doctor and pharmacist face-to-face. But over the phone? No way.

“No,” replied the salesman. “But you can ask to speak to someone who does speak English. Can you do that—ask to speak to someone who speaks English?”

I nodded and agreed to receive a call from MEO at 4:00 pm that afternoon.

“Be certain to answer the call,” the salesman warned, “you will only receive that one call from MEO.”

Sure enough, at 4:30 (Portuguese time), the call came from MEO.

Posso falar com um empregado que fale inglês?” I asked.

Sim senhor. Mas ela precisará ligar de volta para você. Está ocupada falando com outro cliente no momento.”

I agreed. After all, what other choice did I have.

Twenty minutes later, an English speaking MEO customer service rep rang me up. We spoke for about 20 minutes, and she seemed to understand exactly what I wanted. Now, how much would the two plans – we had one for each house – cost? She asked if she could put me on hold while plugging all the data into her system to determine the monthly charges. “Only if you don’t disconnect me,” I replied, having experienced the agony of being cut off, of being disconnected, and trying to reach that same person again. “No worries,” she assured me. “If anything should happen, I will call you right back.”

She called back within a few minutes and ran through the numbers with me. Bottom line: For the two plans with the services we wanted, the total cost amounted to €104. A substantial savings over what we had been paying. She told me that, within an hour, I would receive the contracts for both properties in my email. All I needed to do was to click on the “Validate” button to create new contracts and cancel my former ones.

The contracts came, albeit with slight discrepancies from what we had discussed. The one for our second house at €29.99 was fine … but the bigger, main package linked to our principal residence was eleven euros more than she told me, bringing the total monthly cost to €111—not that great a savings.

Frustrated, I Googled “Portugal Internet Plans” and discovered NOWO, a company being bought by Vodafone that currently lags behind MEO, NOS, and Vodafone. Based on its advertising, NOWO appeared to be the best value in terms of our needs: For 90€ per month, NOWO would provide us with 1 Gbps with 360° coverage, a TV package including all the channels we watched (or wanted to), four TV boxes, 5,000 minutes or SMS on our móvel, a fixed telephone line with 9,000 minutes nationally and 1,000 minutes internationally at our two locations.

That would amount to a savings of at least fifty euros (50€) per month.

The next morning, we headed over to the one (and only) NOWO store in Castelo Branco. The lone salesperson was lovely—friendly, outgoing, helpful, and alternating her English with my Portuguese. Unfortunately, NOWO wouldn’t work for us; it had no broadband (fiber) service available at our home in the Alentejo and the best it could do for us in Alcains was to provide half the speed we currently have. She was as disappointed as we were.

“Before you go,” she asked, “would you mind if I take a look at the contracts that MEO proposed?”

Seeing no reason not to, I handed them to her. She looked at the first contract—the €29.99 monthly service to our second property, in Alentejo. “This looks fair and reasonable,” she nodded. “Let me take a look at the other one,” the bigger bill assigned to our primary residence in Castelo Branco.

“€81.89 per month,” she questioned, shaking her head negatively. “That’s way too much. You shouldn’t be paying more than 60€ or so for this package.”

“Do you have any suggestions?” I asked.

“Yes. Go to the MEO store a few doors down and show them this contract. Tell them that there must be a mistake to pay so much … “

That’s what we did.

The gal behind the counter took one look at the €81.89 contract proposal and made a series of faces ranging from curiosity to incredibility. She hit a key on her computer which, in turn, caused something to print out. It was a flyer and she handed it to me. Evidently a major mistake had been made by someone.

Except for a second MEO TV box (€2.99/month), everything included in that €81.89 was also included in her offer for €56.99!

Between the two houses, our monthly MEO bill would be 50€ less than we’d be paying. Exactly what we were hoping for. Yes, ma’am, we’ll take it.

If only life with MEO were so simple.

We had two choices: Either cancel our current contract and sign up for this plan under my partner’s name (MEO wouldn’t allow it to be put in my name). Or receive another call from MEO’s negotiating team and renegotiate.

Discretion being the better part of valor, we decided to renegotiate.

Again, the MEO store employee made all the arrangements for an English-speaking negotiation agent to contact us at a given time with all of our particulars. Including the mistakes made by the previous agent. She was quite pleasant and accessed our previously proposed contract. “You spoke with Carmen, is that correct?” she asked. That was correct, as were all the other details she had about us, our dealings with MEO, and even information about our discussions with the latest salespeople we had spoken with at the MEO store.

“And you want to renegotiate your contract?” she confirmed. “Exactly,” I replied. “We want the €56.99 package MEO is offering.”

“Let me see what I can do,” she said.

Over the next ten minutes, she came back several times, thanking me for my patience and saying she needed just a few more minutes. Finally, she came back on the line prepared with an offer: “I cannot give you that €56.99 package. The best I can do is to give you the same package for 66€.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “Why can’t you give me the same package for the same package that the MEO store can give.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s not in my script. I cannot offer that price to you.”

“MEO is giving me no choice but to cancel my contract and write a new one under my partner’s name at the MEO store,” I argued.

“You certainly can do that,” she agreed. “But then, you would lose all of the MEO points you have earned—18,444 so far.”

MEO points? I’d never heard of them before. What were they?

“For each euro you pay to MEO, we give you one MEO point. You can use these points to purchase many items … from telemóvels to small and large appliances and many other valuable items.  Just look at everything you can choose from on the MEO website. For a difference of nine euros each month, is it worth giving up all your MEO points? They’re non-transferrable. If you accept my offer, the points will stay with you and be transferred with your new contract. If you cancel your current contract and go with the one offered at the MEO store, you will lose all your points.”

“Let me think about it,” I said. “I’ll take a look at what’s available on your website.”

“No problem,” she said. “But before we can do anything in either case, we will need to remove your second móvel, which you no longer use or want, from your account before we can proceed.”

“Is that something I can do now with you?” I asked.

“No,” she answered. “We have a separate department that handles removals of specific services contained in your contract. If you hold on briefly, I will transfer you to that department. I will also send them all the details we’ve discussed.”

“Will the person you transfer me to speak English?” I continued.

“I cannot say for sure,” she said. “But you can ask to talk with someone who speaks English in that department.”

“Okay, go ahead and transfer me.”

The person on the other end spoke rapid-speed Portuguese, but no English. I understood what she was telling me, though: The English speaker in this MEO department was currently engaged with another customer. But she would call me back within the hour. I confirmed that she had all my correct contact and account information. She did, repeating my name, phone number, and contract ID to me in Portuguese. Yes, all the information was correct.

While waiting for the call back, I meandered through MEO’s website “store.” There really wasn’t anything we needed … but, who knows, we could have taken advantage of our points and redeemed them for products. Discovering how the point system worked was another exercise in futility. While we earned one MEO point for each euro we paid MEO, it didn’t work that way with purchases using points. Much like my Travel Rewards credit card, each point earned didn’t equal one euro to spend. One hundred points earned equaled one euro to spend. So, my 18,444 MEO points were worth €184.44. Sure, nothing to sneeze at. But was it worth it? Especially given all the grief MEO already had put me through?

The straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back was that the designated English speaker from MEO’s service “removals” department never called back. We waited three days. No calls from MEO, nor even a new contract in my email.

Despite my annoyance, this whole round-and-round-we-go had become a matter of principle for me by now. My partner and I agreed that the MEO points be damned. We would cancel our contract and sign up for a new one under his name. Doing so would achieve our overall goal: to reduce our monthly MEO bills substantially. We’d be saving over fifty euros each month, even if we had to go through the motions and inconvenience of bringing our routers and MEO boxes into the store to cancel our account and having MEO’s technicians schedule a time to come and bring us other ones. No installation work was needed … just bringing us a new router and two MEO TV boxes.

“That doesn’t make sense,” I told the gal at the MEO store. “We already have the router and boxes in place, working fine. Why not let us keep them instead of playing this ‘musical MEO’ with our time and equipment?”

She shrugged. I guess she didn’t get the reference to American “musical chairs.”

But I was reminded of that quintessential refrain: “Once, shame on you; twice, shame on me.”

P.S. Despite the machinations involved in dealing with MEO—and, I suspect, its brothers in arms—one of the customer service reps I spoke to gave me a good piece of advice: Once your “loyalty” period has ended, check the offers MEO (or NOS, Vodafone, NOWO) are offering, which change every month. You could end up saving a bushel and a peck!

Bruce Joffe is publisher and creative director of Portugal Living Magazine.

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Journalism That Matters?

CNN Commercializes Its Beauties and Beasts

Even for those of us living in Portugal, there’s plenty of news available in English, especially via computer and “smart” TV.

Among the staples that come with our Internet packages are “news” channels Al Jezeera (Qatar), BBC (UK), Bloomberg (USA), CCTV and CGTN (China), CNN (USA), Euro News (EU), France 24, KBS World (Korea), Sky News (UK), i24 (Israel), NHK World (Japan), and TRT World (Turkey). All in English. Snippets from other news outlets can be accessed as well via their YouTube feeds.

Can you guess which channel uses the following slogans?

• “Facts First”

• “Journalism that Reflects the World We Live In”

• “Go There”

• “Capturing the Moment”

• “Journalism That Matters”

If you guessed CNN, good for you. (Or maybe not.) You may be viewing too much of this cable-sourced channel that uses these catchphrases as part of its “This Is CNN” branding campaign.

Surely, anyone who watches CNN has heard and seen one of its famous faces in a “I’m (name) … and THIS is CNN” promotion.

Pay attention to how they emphasize the “… and THIS” part of the sentence: dramatic, seductive, exclamatory, emphatically, defensively, declaratory, et al. Dr. Sanjay Gupta is, perhaps, the only one to say the word (this) nonchalantly, without shouting it out over his name or the other words.

While I tend to channel hop and surf to get different perspectives on the same happenings, I confess that I spend more time with CNN than with all the others combined. Because I’m American. Perhaps that’s why I’m so opinionated and annoyed at what used to be known as the Cable News Network.

I’ve gotten to know CNN’s people—their actions, voices, looks, and demeaner. Some of them drive me nuts; others deserve accolades and more airtime than they’re given.

Women, especially, are featured in the promotions.

Can any CNN-watcher hear the words “I am Nigerian by blood, British by birth, and American by residence,” without identifying CNN’s own Cleopatra—Zane Asher? She adds: “It is important that those same strands of inclusivity that flow through me are mirrored in the stories that we tell.”

Am I the only one a bit dismayed by the inclusive promotion with diminutive Lady Julia Chatterly’s hip gyrations in the continuous commercials for her First Move show?

CNN men should be roasted or toasted, too, when the shoe fits.

Wolf Blitzer, for instance, surely befits his name. I get nervous and edgy every time I’m in his situation room with breaking news.

Or the ubiquitous Richard Quest who’s hardly ever on his own primetime program anymore. How anyone can be so obnoxious, crude, rude, and in-your-face infuriates me. We all know people who don’t listen because they’re too busy getting their own next words ready. That’s Richard Quest. Maybe the network sees him as an asset, but, to me, he’s just an ass that turns me off whenever his gravelly pitch folk voice grinds. “On assignment” or traveling around his world of wonder, it’s good to see the stand-ins whose presentations are always better. It’s time to say “Good riddance” to Richard Quest and his hand-held ringer.

Actually, the one thing on CNN that bothers me more than that horrid man is watching gruesome images of the devastation in Turkey and Syria (or Ukraine) violated by that little box on the lower right hand of the screen updating the status of stock markets worldwide. Yeah, poor people are suffering but the wealthy merchants of gloom and doom can’t be left without their score cards.

It’s what Quest would call one of his “profitable moments.”

In other news, replacing Hana Gorami with Isa Soares was a brilliant move. While the former was repeatedly caught live and on-camera looking bored, fidgeting, or forgetting her lines, the latter is dynamic … whether on air or on the ground. And she’s Portuguese—fluent in her native language, English and Spanish as well.

Isn’t it time to retire the promo for Erin Burnett’s OutFront show? A “potential breakthrough in treating Corona virus,” and whether “all this spending” could lead to “a bigger economic crisis” are gone with the wind already. And that poor girl so delighted that a viewer paid her rent that month must have a year pre-paid by now. “Shut up,” she said. Yeah.

Meanwhile, girl-next-door Kaitlan Collins makes a better chatterer than Chief White House Correspondent, in my opinion. CNN must agree, as it’s have her a morning show shared with Poppy Harlow and Don Lemon (his honor now goes to Phil Mattingly, doing an excellent job in show biz now as the former Eddie Munster. Can he fit any more words into his broadcast bites? Only dashing Frederik Pleitgen seems able to speak so quickly yet coherently.

Back to Kaitlan: What threesome could be any cuter for an early morning chat fest than Kaitlan Collins, Poppy Harlow, and Don Lemon? Evidently, Poppy Harlow and Phil Mattingly, alongside meteorologist Derek Van Dam. Kaitlan Collins, “one of the top reporters and interviewers in the game,” according to CNN CEO Chris Licht, now hosts her own evening interview show, The Source. Really.

Poppy Harlow, Don Lemon and Kaitlin Collins, the new co-anchors of “CNN This Morning.”

Smart, sassy, and stunning with a mane of auburn hair is Bianca Nobile … but why play hide-and-seek with her or pair her with regal Max Foster as co-hosts on the catch-as-can CNN Newsroom? Never mind that he’s handsome and has his own share of good hair.

(Speaking of hair, does any man have more perfectly coiffed hair than John Berman? Ivan Watson’s got great hair, too. And what happened to cutie correspondent David Culter?)

One thing CNN is guilty of, as are most round-the-clock newscasts, is repetition. How many different hosts and reporters can tell the same story – Breaking News! Breaking News! Breaking News! – from different faces and voices? A really big story (Trump’s or Biden’s or Pence’s supposedly classified documents removed from the White House, Library of Congress, or National Archives) breaks. Now that we’ve been told about it, bring in the crowd to give their thoughts, implications, and guesses on the outcome.

Overdone after so many videoclips and playbacks with the has-been experts, it’s time for panel discussions. Honestly, I do enjoy the banter between and among Dana Bash, Abby Phillip, and Van Jones.

Cheers to the “second tier” of CNN anchors—those who fill in for the name “brands” without pomp and circumstance: Fredericka (Fred) Whitfield, Brianna Keilar, Pamela Brown, Jim Acosta, John King.

Clarissa Ward deserves an Emmy, Nobel, and/or Pulitzer prize for her documentary commercials, as well as for her sensitive, sensible, heroic work in Afghanistan and Turkey!

BREAKING NEWS …

When push comes, it’s good to remember that there’s more than one CNN in town. The new CNN Portugal (in Portuguese) can learn some important lessons from the intrusive tactics of its American counterpart.

We can, too …

Like, for instance, discovering the mother lode of MSNBC goodies (and others), both immediate and recent, in bite-size morsels trimmed without the fat on YouTube!

Bruce Joffe is publisher and creative director of Portugal Living Magazine.

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Selling Portugal

First and foremost, let me say that we love Portugal … despite its quirks and eccentricities. There is nowhere else we would want to live, except for our periodic vacations at our pied a terre in Olvera, Spain.

It’s been five years now that we’ve been living in Portugal. Though Portugal hadn’t been on our radar — we´d had a vacation bolt in Spain for 15 years — friends who lived near us in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin, urged us to consider the little country between Spain and the Atlantic Ocean where they had bought some property in Alpedrinha, a charming village between Castelo Branco and Fundão.

Why Portugal and not Spain?

As non-EU nationals, the bottom line for us was this: Portugal wanted us and did everything possible to make our residency there easier; Spain didn’t.

Over these years, we’ve seen a lot of hype and disinformation spread about Portugal. For us and many others, it’s a great place to live. But too many people get caught up in all the hype and the hoopla: How many different media and magazines have decreed that Portugal is the top place to be … to visit … to live … to retire?

Do you have any idea how many Americans from the USA (alone) are moving to Portugal in increasing numbers?

Enough to command cover and feature stories from Condé Nast TravelerPolíticoThe Los Angeles TimesCNN, and many others.

Why all the hype and hoopla about this tiny, westernmost European nation?

Lots of reasons … including the selling of Portugal.

“Portugal is a good country to live in,” reports the Goa Spotlight newspaper. “Security, the friendliness of the people, the open and tolerant culture, education, among many other aspects, are factors that lead Brazilians to seek out the country. However, promises of an El Dourado, designed by youtubers from Brazil, are bringing people from the other side of the Atlantic in search of a reality that does not exist.”

The reality of Portugal is framed by what happens on the planet. The war continues to leave its marks on post-pandemic growth, and the economic recession threatens, above all, those who cannot extend what they earn at the end of the month.

In addition, with rents rising – last year they rose by an average of 37%, with the energy bill rising, gas, water, food and transport at more expensive prices, it’s complicated for anyone looking for a better life easier, or at least with surmountable challenges, in Portugal.

Truth be told, Portugal is being oversold.

I suspect that many professionals who can’t find appropriate work (and pay) in the country are pumping up the rhetoric and joining the bandwagon of those selling Portugal. Grocers specializing in food products generally hard to find are shipping them to your doorstep in Portugal. Therapists are dealing with post-expatric syndrome and a host of other unsettling behaviors. Lawyers are catering to the big slice of business that comprises the market of people needing NIFs, bank accounts, and houses. Property agencies are a dime a dozen. Relocation experts promise to facilitate the transition. Packed tighter than sardines in a tin are webinars, blogs, vlogs, and YouTube channels catering to expats, immigrants, and foreigners. We have countless scores of people and groups teaching Portuguese in a variety of formats. Others are arranging round-trip scouting trips to the destination(s) of client interest(s), as well as charter flights bringing people and their pets to Portugal. Customized trips and tours are at your disposal, as are money lenders and currency brokers. Portugal itself is subsidizing numerous public relations undertakings that lure people — as tourists, travelers, and residents — to its land of the fado and saudade.

Even the letter of the law in Portugal is designed to work in the consumer’s favor. Consider this one: “Restaurants and beverage establishments are obliged to provide customers with tap water and non-disposable cups for consumption on site, and cannot charge any amount for this.” How many other countries have a law like this on their books? The entry into force of the changes introduced by Law No. 52/2021, “made it mandatory to keep a container with tap water and sanitized non-disposable cups available to customers for free on-site consumption, and cannot charge even at a lower cost than packaged water,” said Ana Jacinto, the general secretary of the Portuguese Hotel, Restaurant and Similar Association.

Still, there’s a point to be realistic and not conjure up expectations of cobble stone streets with porto flowing freely. It just doesn’t work that way.

“The sales gimmick of Portugal having the best beaches in Europe, the warm weather, low cost of living, and hospitable people was charming and very appealing. However, as reality set in, I discovered a different picture–more of a western country being operated as a third world country, or an eastern bloc bureaucratic central system,” one critic said.

This particular person itemized his disappointments with and complaints about Portugal:

Regarding responsibility: The irresponsible behavior of the Portuguese citizens exacerbated the (Covid lock-down) problem. For example, the Portuguese government imposed a travel restriction over the 2021 Easter Weekend, so 50% of the country (5 million residents) traveled to the Algarve a day before the travel restriction started to go to the beach, only to spike the covid-19 numbers with this super spreader practice. So, Portugal went from easing the restriction phases of Mar/Apr/May to a delayed roll-out easing rules for Aug/Sep/October plan, with no consequences to law breakers.

Regarding taxes: The Non-Habitual Resident tax system for expats went from 0% to 10% overnight, with the stroke of a pin starting from 31 Mar 2020. Also, that NHR expires after 10 years, leaving expats’ pensions at the mercy of the Portuguese income tax brackets of 14.5%-48%. Another thing that I didn’t learn till later was the effect of obtaining Portuguese citizenship on tax exempt pensions under the current 1994 tax treaty with the US, where federal pensions (from Fed, State, and local governments) would be subject to Portuguese income taxes once the recipient is both a resident and a citizen of Portugal. Thus requiring the recipient to stay under the 183 days per year to avoid being a tax resident, provided that the expat’s primary residence was not considered by Finanças as being in Portugal, a big grey-area open to interpretation, especially if you own a property in Portugal!

Regarding the cost of living: While in general the cost of living in Portugal is lower than most places in the USA, some things just aren’t that much cheaper in Portugal. Many posts rant about how cheap the food is here, where lunch shouldn’t exceed 10 Euros, and dinners shouldn’t exceed 20 Euros, and never tip more than one euro. Well no one tells you that locals have two menus, where an Algarve restaurant owner emailed me his Portuguese patrons’ local-priced menu, but handed his walk-in customers the overpriced touristy priced menu. I ordered a breakfast cheese omelet, a coffee, bread, and water, for which I was charged 17 Euros! The concept of exploiting your expat residents is appalling to me. The grocery stores are not cheap, and are comparable to USA prices, unless you elect to forfeit all “luxury” foods and brands you’ve grown accustomed to back home. Residential electricity cost in PT is 211.4% of that in the USA. The average price a residential customer in the United States pays for electricity is $0.149 per kWh, where in Portugal the average residential rate [with the 23%IVA tax] is 0.262 Euro per kWh ($0.315 per kWh). The gasoline price in PT is 228% of that in the USA: The average price of gasoline in the United States is $3.043 per gallon, where in Portugal the average price of gas is $6.95 (1.527€ per Liter/5.78 per gallon). Even though renting can be affordable in Portugal, the entire Algarve region spikes rents to three or four folds in the tourist season month’s May through September, asking their tenants to pay up or evict them, resulting in the entire expat population in the Algarve desperately pleading for accommodations on expat groups. Cars cost at least twice as much as they are in the USA, simply because of the outrageous taxes imposed on imported cars and the added VAT and road taxes. Used cars are unreliable and are triple and quadruple what a reasonably priced used car should comparably cost in the USA.

(Note: I disagree with several of the points the writer made above. For one, the price of electricity. Numbers can be tricky and used every which way to justify a point. Personally, we have lived from Florida to Wisconsin and places in between, where our typical monthly electric bills were U.S. $300-500. In Portugal, we’re paying €125 on average for two separate properties with aircons, washers, dryers, dehumidifiers, and hot water heaters in use. Our Internet “package” — including a fixed line telephone, a mobile phone with more minutes and data that we’ll ever use, over 100 channels — more with a “Smart” TV — and high-speed broadband is 70€ per month. Compare that to Comcast! And property taxes? For us in the USA, it was well over $3,000 per year vs. €125 in Portugal. All things considered, our cost of living is covered by my monthly Social Security payments–about US $2,000.)

Regarding health care: Everyone touts the great prices of medical care in Portugal. That may be true in emergency medicine (life, limb, or eye sight), which one could very well require if you drive enough in this country, being cut off around every corner at high speeds for no apparent reason. However the public health system is grossly inadequately equipped and understaffed, where my diabetic expat neighbor is waiting over three months to get his eye exam scheduled. I attempted to schedule an appointment with a public clinic doctor to no avail for eight months now; every time I go to the clinic they say it’s not possible or no doctors available in the next month, and refuse to schedule future appointments that are beyond a 30-day window. The fact is that the public health doctors in Portugal moonlight at private clinics during the tourist season for more income, and their staff at the public clinics cover for them. 

(Note: Free, national health care plans — from Canada to the UK and beyond — suffer similar problems. Voilà: enter another money-making service catering to confused and frustrated foreigners in Portugal–the health concierge, whose team helps you navigate the system, make appointments with doctors and dentists, and resolve any concerns you may have. All for a fee, of course. On the other hand, private health insurance is a bargain in Portugal. My partner, 59, and I, 73, together are paying €2,000 for the most comprehensive coverage we’ve had anywhere … and it includes all of Iberia, Spain as well as Portugal.)

Like everywhere these days, Portugal — and the European Union — has its share of liberals and alt-righters. There are robberies, both burglaries and advantage-taking. Not everyone is nice–some people are downright nasty. Fuel is more expensive here, at least three times its cost in the USA. It gets bone-chilling cold all over the country, a different type of cold that we’ve not experienced elsewhere. There’s mold and bugs and flies and creepy crawlers. And lots of houses that continue to be inhabited since they were built (and hardly upgraded) in the 1930s, 40s, and 50s. Yes, there are some people who have different attitudes about domestic pets than we do. We cringe when we hear of their abuse and abandonment. They may cringe when they see us treating our dogs and cats as children, rather than pets. But, increasingly, I see Portuguese people walking their dogs on leads, picking up after them, buying specialty foods at upscale pet shops, and taking their “familiars” to the vet to be diagnosed, treated, and inoculated.

My friend João (don’t we all have at least one?), whom I respect immensely, responded to a litany of complaints about living in Portugal with these words:

“We describe things as we are, not as they are. As objective as one can be, the overall joy of living in one place cannot be calculated from some parameters on a bullet list. I must say that as a former expat myself, what some considered negative points were truly the things that made me happy. Take into consideration that the grass is always greener … and there will always be people (seeking to) overrate their products–countries included.”

One of the questions asked of would-be members to the largest Facebook group for expats, immigrants, and others interested in moving to Portugal is “What do you like most about Portugal?” By far, the majority of those answering say “Everything!”

Give me a break, please. Most of them have yet to set foot in the country, but they already know that they like everything about Portugal. Yeah, right.

A friend, Rudi, posted this on her Facebook feed today: “I love my little village. I spent this morning emailing and calling four companies to ask if they could send me an invoice for work they had done at my place and materials they had delivered. After four texts from me, the wood guy finally did send me an invoice for wood he delivered the first week of October. I don’t think I ever before had to beg to pay my bills.

That’s the paradox of Portugal.

For some reason, I’m reminded of these lyrics from Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi: “They paved paradise, put up a parking lot.”

Those who come to Portugal because they’ve been sold on it being paradise are in for some surprises and reality checks. But just what is “paradise,” anyway? One person’s paradise may put another in the doldrums.

For us, it’s living in peace–safely and securely. It’s having a diverse group of multi-lingual friends who enjoy being together. It’s marveling at the splendors of the world within driving distance. It’s integrating to the culture rather than making it subordinate to ours.

We experience that in Portugal.

“At the end it’s a wonderful country to experience but it’s not paradise,” commented Jon Collier in a post. “That’s a place you create in your heart.”

Bruce Joffe is publisher and creative director of Portugal Living Magazine, the “thoughtful magazine for people everywhere with Portugal on their minds.” To read the current issue and subscribe — free of charge! — please visit https://portugallivingmagazine.com/our-current-issue/

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Masquerade

I found myself thinking about masks today.

Some people continue to wear them when out walking, shopping, even driving in their cars.

Most people no longer wear them, except where it’s obrigatorio–in pharmacies, health centers, and other such places.

Others should — but don’t — wear them. Like the waitress in the restaurant we ate at on Saturday. Her cough was continuous. Not the dry, hacking kind … nor the wet, sneezing kind that’s symptomatic of colds or the flu with phlegm. Hers was an incessant cough, like something scratching relentlessly at her throat. When she didn’t have anything in her hands — a plate of food, a pitcher of wine, a menu — she’d cough into her hands. Not once did she wash her hands while working or waiting on customers.

“Deves chevar uma máscara,” I told her in my best Portuguese while she stood over our table taking our order. Não, she shook her head. She’d have nothing to do with wearing a mask. Except for her father (maybe her husband?), nobody else was handling the food. And he was too busy moving ice cream around in the freezer to notice or be bothered about the need for good hygiene–especially around food.

Even during the height of the pandemic, most people in Portugal understood the need to wear masks to protect themselves as well as others. It didn’t require a government mandate (although one was issued), nor was it a matter of government interference, intervention, and/or disinformation. Certainly, there were those who believed in government conspiracies and refused to wear masks. But they were few and far between. The same could be said for Spain, where the protective face shields are called mascarillas instead of máscaras.

While there was some grumbling at times, mask-wearing never became the cause celébre provoking country-wide revolutions and demonstrations as has women not wearing face covering hijabs in Muslim countries–especially the Islamic Republic of Iran. Nor was mask wearing (or not) the divisive political issue at rallies and riots in the USA (and elsewhere).

Today when I see people wearing masks, I assume it’s because of common sense: people caring for themselves and others. Although their facial apparel makes them stand out in the crowds, I respect them for going against the grain and taking care.

Russ and I suffered through bad colds, or maybe the flu, for two weeks recently. When not bedridden or staying inside, we wore masks. In the supermarkets. In shops. On the streets.

As Covid restrictions and travel advisories become realities again, mainly because of China’s international travel while cases of this plague-like virus and its variants are surging, it’s well worth remembering that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

When in doubt, wear a mask.

There’s no law requiring you to do so … but there’s no law saying you shouldn’t.

Bruce Joffe is publisher and creative director of Portugal Living Magazine, the thoughtful magazine for people everywhere with Portugal on their minds. To read current and past issues … and subscribe — free! — visit https://portugallivingmagazine.com.

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Spanish Towns, Portuguese Villages:

Some (Not So) Subtle Differences

After owning a vacation home in southern Spain for 15 years and two properties in Portugal for five, we’ve started to notice and track a variety of not so subtle lifestyle differences between the two countries.

When or if comparing your experiences with ours, please bear in mind that we live in towns and villages – not coastal cities – where our neighbors are natives, and many don’t speak English. We’re comparing typical suburban standing, not urban ubiquities, between the two countries.

For example, shopping centers and supermarkets are closed on Sundays (and holidays) in Spain; they’re open in Portugal. For the most part.

With every purchase made in Portugal, merchants are required by law to ask for your fiscal number (NIF in Portugal, NIE in Spain). It’s your choice whether to give it. But if you do provide the number, merchants report the transaction – and the taxes you paid – to Finanças and you’re automatically credited for these tax payments against your annual income taxes. For whatever reason, we’ve never been asked for a fiscal number in Spain. Perhaps, Portugal’s central accounting system is more sophisticated than Spain’s … or maybe Spain simply doesn’t tabulate taxes paid on purchases to offset one’s annual income tax liability.

Trash in most Spanish towns is picked up daily – seven days per week, including holidays – by garbage trucks with door-to-door service. Residents hang their bags of trash on nearby railings or set them out against convenient spaces nearby. A recycling center is centrally located, although there may be a few bins scattered throughout the area for the purpose. In Portugal, however, people take their garbage to trash and recycling bins conveniently grouped together and located every few blocks. Large items – furniture, major appliances, etc. – are collected in both countries by calling and scheduling the pickup.

IVA is 21% in Spain and 23% in Portugal.

The Spanish might assume that all Portuguese women — except for children — are married, as there are no “señoritas” in Portugal. Just senhoras.

Speaking of which, there’s no such thing as gender neutrality in Portuguese or Spanish. Everything that’s named must either be masculine or feminine. Except, sometimes, the two countries and their respective languages can’t agree on the gender. Take “Christmas,” for example. The Spanish call it female (la Navidad), while the Portuguese think of it as male (o Natal).

Houses are comparable in cost in both countries.

Nevertheless, property purchase costs (taxes, stamps, legal and notary services, other fees) are far lower in Portugal—especially on a primary residence costing less than €100,000. Depending on location, figure between 10-14% on top of the purchase price in Spain v. perhaps 1% in Portugal. That’s because the transfer tax in Spain on such properties varies between 6% and 13%, while the same tax in Portugal is a meager 0.1%.

Drying laundry is another matter. In Portugal, all sorts of rack contraptions are used to hang drying clothes from windows, terraces, and balconies. It remains a mystery to me where the Spaniards hang theirs.

Spain, even in rural areas, is much louder, longer … and later. Portuguese people tend to hold their peace and tranquility much longer.

The spirit of Spain is expressed in its flamenco; the soul of Portugal in its fado.

Parking your money in traditional, brick-and-mortar banks – even those with online banking – is a losing proposition in both countries. Portugal charges between four and six euros each month (Montepio and Millenium) per account, while Spain charges many accountholders €45 per quarter (€180 per year). All for the privilege of using our money to invest in the bank’s profitability.

Petrol (gasoline, diesel, LPG) has historically been cheaper in Spain than Portugal. Not so anymore. Portugal is giving Spain a run for its money at the fuel pump, although canisters of propane and butane continue to cost far less in Spain.

Electrodomésticos – especially large screen “smart” TVs – are far more expensive in Spain than Portugal. Take, for example, this 43-inch, 2022 LG Smart TV: It’s advertised at a “promotional price” of €449 at “Electrochollo,” a chain of discount appliance stores throughout Spain. The same unit and model at Worten throughout Portugal, however, costs just €299.99. Even the ads are the same. The same holds true for many other major appliances—washing machines, cookers and hobs, frost-free refrigerators and freezers, even computers and peripherals. I guess it has something to do with the market: Spaniards typically earn more than the Portuguese; Portuguese are poorer than Spaniards.

Maybe it’s the electricity—which also is somewhat higher in Spain?

Curiously, despite Portugal’s pharmaceutical subsidies, Spain is far cheaper when it comes to over-the-counter drugs (not prescriptions). “Baby” aspirin (90 or 100 mgs) for the heart, anti-fungal cream, and pills to fight the allergies in the air everywhere here, cost less than ten euros combined in Spain vs. 25 in Portugal.

For those who savor haute cuisine, for the most part Spanish food is better than Portuguese. I know, I know: all those articles raving about how delicious the food – especially fish and other concoctions – are in Portugal. Perhaps that’s true if you don’t know what you’re eating or see pictures of it in supermarket flyers.

Disculpa, Portugal, but Spanish food looks and tastes better. A lot of credit for that goes to its small plated “tapas” served with bread, plastic packages of crackers, and olives (or, sometimes, peanuts) … all included for €2.50-€3.50 per dish. Add another euro for a large pour of tinto and two people can share a variety of food – croquetas, chicken, meat, fish – for less than fifteen euros, including salad and crisps (fries) that come with the “meal.”

But the bread …

Spanish bread cannot compete with its Portuguese cousins. Dry, tasteless, starchy, and bland, the best that can be said about it is “blah.” For its part, Portuguese bread tends to be hard crusted but moist and flavorful inside, luscious when served warm. The same holds true for pastries and desserts: The sheer variety of sweets in Portugal is mind-blowing, loaded with creams, and succulent—a delicious and delightful way to end a meal. Except for its flan, perhaps, the best to be said about pasties in Spanish towns and villages is “blah” … they’re just not finger-licking good.

I’ve often told friends (so it’s no longer funny) that when my time comes, I don’t want funebre faces or empathetic eulogies. Instead, rent a Portuguese pastelaria and enjoy remembering me for my sweet tooth.

Rather than end this epistle on a morbid note, I share this curious beginning of the most commonplace greetings in Spanish towns and Portuguese villages: Why is it that the Portuguese greet us in the singular: bom dia … boa tarde … boa noite, while the Spanish express such pleasantries in the plural: buenos días, buenas tardes, buenas noches?

Is there something they know that we don’t?

Bruce Joffe is publisher and creative director of Portugal Living Magazine, the award-winning thoughtful magazine for people everywhere with Portugal on their minds. He and his partner divide their time between homes in Spanish towns and Portuguese villages—and vice-versa. Read the current issue of Portugal Living Magazine online and subscribe – FREE! – at https://portugallivingmagazine.com/our-current-issue/

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Street Sounds in Spain

For 15 years now, we’ve had a vacation bolt in Andalucía–southern Spain. Our pied a terre is in a town named Olvera, which is found precisely at the point where the provinces of Málaga, Sevilla, and Cadiz intersect and collide. Except for its majestic appearance from the roadway, Olvera is a typical Spanish town, albeit one with a good share of expats and immigrants–mainly from the UK, but increasing numbers from elsewhere.

Olvera view

Since moving to Portugal in 2017, we’ve made the four-hour trek from our Portuguese home (in Elvas) at the Spanish border by Badajoz two or three times each year. And with each trip, we’re reminded of my good doctor’s prescription for old age (mine) and assorted aches and pains, including a broken leg and ankle from 20+ years ago: “Stop climbing up and down all those steps.¨(At the time, we lived in a house with 37 steps between the three floors.) The doctor went on to warn me how dangerous it was to be pulled down the village’s cobble stone streets — especially when wet and slippery — by our three Miniature Schnauzers.

“You need a single story home, a bungalow, with a small, enclosed backyard for the dogs,” she stressed. “You will feel much better and enjoy life that much more.”

The doctor was right.

Except for Olvera.

We loved our three-story 55m2 house that had “Challenging!” written all over it. It was challenging to decorate according to our taste when the small space dictated absolute minimalism. It was challenging to go up and down all those steps, which twisted and turned and had less surface area to support us. It was challenging to walk the dogs up the steepening street, avoiding poopstacles along the way.

Heck, it was challenging even to get to the place!

A tiny alley way sliced through the retail shops on Calle Llana, the main street in town. Blink and you’ll miss it. Try to make a 90 degree right turn from Calle Llana onto Calle Cantillos (yes, the alley has a name!) and you’d better pull in both of the car’s side mirrors. And pray.

It’s there that you first become aware of it …

The noise.

In abandoned, decrepit, former manor homes now falling apart, you’ll hear the constant coo-coo-coo-ing of pigeons. Whether love calls or sirens crying for times past, the pigeons are loud. They’re also dirty, their droppings plastering the street.

Continuing about 20 meters, the road widens somewhat … enough for cars to park, clinging to houses on one side of the street. Normal size cars can pass through … with about half a meter to spare. A harrowing experience driving down the street, it’s no wonder that every car exhibits what is affectionately known around town as “Olvera kisses.”

Not far down the street is a “park” which resulted from tearing down the former post office building and erecting a site to sit on facing concrete benches atop a cement slab injected with three precisely placed trees and two trash baskets on stands. Approaching this oasis set in the midst of too much crammed tightly together, one becomes aware of clucking sounds, somewhat like a brood of hens. Especially around dusk. It’s a group of about 10 senior citizens, men facing women on opposite sides, gathering to socialize.

Immediately thereafter, the road lurches left, into another alley-like connection. That’s where our house is located–directly opposite a so-called “street” branching off to the left. Though it has a name (C/Arcos), only two-wheel vehicles — bicycles, scooters, and motos — can pass through, as there’s a low-hanging archway just a few meters ahead.

In effect, we live in the middle of a man-made echo chamber exaggerating simple sounds into raucous roars.

Maybe it’s me who’s exaggerating?

Here’s what we hear:

• Despite the “no parking” sign and curb painted yellow on this leg of C/Arcos, someone parks there late at night and leaves early in the morning. Maybe s/he thinks that nobody will need to pass that way or be inconvenienced at such times. Nor would the possibility of police patrolling and ticketing the car be that great. We know that the car is old and its engine is diesel. From the series of 30-second motor cranking to the belching and burping of the engine engaged, there’s no mistaking those sounds at six in the morning.

• Not much later, a tractor shakes, rattles, and rolls, trudging its way into the vacated spot, creeping its way up the incline until it can go no farther. Stopping beside what’s left of a row house, the man driving yells something to a colleague and the demolition continues. Bang! Boom! Snap, Crackle, and Pop!

It’s just before 7:00 am.

• One by one, up and down the street, “persianas” — those built-in blinds comprising wood and other weather-resistant materials — are cranked up to let in a new day. At the same hour that evening, they will be cranked down again.

• Next door, our neighbor is having repairs and renovations done. Industrial-size bags of concrete (cement?) are parked in front of her house. Promptly each morning at 8h,the men come to begin work. There’s the steady banging of a hand-held hammer. The high-pitched whine of electric drills. And the ear-jarring rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat of a jack-hammer jamming. The men stop their work when the lady of the house begins arguing with whoever is in charge. I don’t know what the problem is, but their voices are raised and, despite bickering for 15 minutes, she is determined to have the last word. Their voices rising to crescendo, a door is slammed and we become aware of the infrequent sounds of silence on our street.

• The same next door neighbor and two others get together in front of our house — which, for whatever reason is convenient — mid-morning and mid-evening to chat. Their pitch is that of loud, overpowering shrillness that scares the sh*t out of our dogs. I wish! Instead, they are petrified, tail between their legs, refusing to eat or do their business, fearing they’ll come across what they perceive as perils.

(Fifty or so years ago, while I was attending the University of Madrid, my very proper Spanish grandmother would wag her finger at me, stating unequivocally, “No te quedes en la calle.” In other words, don’t hang out on the street. Streets had their purpose, she believed — to take you somewhere and bring you back — but were not the place for respectable people to spend time gossiping.)

• Motorcycles scream by, going the wrong way on our one direction (only) street. You can tell their manufacturers, makes, and models by the whine and howl of their motors as those driving demons rev, rev, rev their motors to make a point as they pass. Evidently, since the pandemic lockdowns, more people have discovered the convenience of restaurant food delivered to their doors, thereby increasing the number of motos (and noise) on the street.

It’s now nine in the morning.

• Rather than beeping politely, the bread truck bullies its way down the street, driver leaning heavily on his horn every 10-meters for what seems like eternities. The bread truck is followed by the gas truck, delivering full canisters of propane and fetching the empty ones. It, too, follows the same ear-piercing etiquette. Every so often, the fish monger comes along, making a trio of the cacophony.

• Meanwhile, the masters and mistresses of dogs on our street have opened their doors to let the canines out to do their business in the street. From the soprano voices of the women to the gravely, baritone tones of the men — and, sometimes, whistling in between — it can take 15 minutes for the dogs to return home from their jaunts around the neighborhood.

• Later, cats who’ve taken residence in the ruina facing us howl and screech in nighttime hissy fits. Either they’re fighting for mastery or having great sex.

Any one of these matters — two, three, or even four — could be accepted and adapted to, considering the friendships and food we enjoy here in Olvera. But put all of them together, continuously, day after day, and it’s a lifestyle … regardless of how we describe it.

Of course, there are other nondescript sounds that get muffled by all the racket: people walking and talking to each other in sotto voices or listening to their mobiles. Cars passing carefully at a sensible pace. Children playing in the street. Ladies back from their grocery shopping, dragging the carts behind them. Elderly gentlemen gingerly tapping their canes. Birds chirping. Flies buzzing. Bicycle riders gliding silently down the street. Emergency vehicle sirens off in the distance.

Maybe it’s only our street where expats and immigrants must learn to fish or cut bait. Perhaps people in other towns and villages across Iberia are comfortable living where such happenstance is routine and acceptable behavior.

Then, too, others are probably more tolerant than we.

When asked about the differences between Spain and Portugal or why we chose to live in the latter instead of the former, we tell them that there are many similarities between the two countries and cultures.

But we do believe that Spain is louder.

P.S. We cut short our “vacation” and returned to Portugal a week earlier than anticipated. We missed the relative peace and quiet of our new homeland.

Bruce Joffe is publisher and creative director of Portugal Living Magazine, the thoughtful magazine for people everywhere with Portugal on their minds. Read current and past issues — and subscribe free of charge — at https://portugallivingmagazine.com/our-current-issue/

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