MEO & Me

Posted on April 13, 2023 by Pastor Bruce

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 millionfine 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.

Processing…

Success! You're on the list.

Whoops! There was an error and we couldn't process your subscription. Please reload the page and try again.

Inside-Out Voices

Featured

Posted on March 30, 2023 by Pastor Bruce

Back in the day parents, teachers, and caretakers would warn or advise their kinfolk (typically children) to “use your inside voice” when they were becoming too loud.

Even outside.

Described as a modulated, relatively calm voice considered polite and socially appropriate when speaking indoors (at home, in school, or at the office), an inside voice is opposed to an outside voice: the latter a strong, elevated voice considered acceptable when speaking outdoors to be heard above a crowd or other background sounds.

Inside or out, an inside voice means that you’re thinking about the eardrums of others and that you know how to communicate without hollering.

Such is not the case in Spain.

Spain is loud.

People — especially women — tend to use their outdoor voices everywhere and all the time. Especially in the streets and right outside their front doors. That’s where they socialize. The streets are their living rooms, reception areas to interact and communicate.

Perhaps that’s because, for the most part, houses in Spain (and Portugal) were built with spaces too small to accommodate gatherings and inside voices. So people, their families, and neighbors congregate in the street, speaking up without realizing how loud is their talk.

My grandmother looked down on the street (although she also disapproved of jeans and bell bottoms, popular at the time). She came from money, married into more, and lived in a 12-room apartment on the fourth floor of Madrid’s prestigious Salamanca barrio (neighborhood). There was plenty of room for guests to gather in one of her several sitting rooms. “Sólo los Fulanos de tal se quedan por las calles” (Only nondescripts stay out on the streets), she would say.

Of course, those were the days of Francisco Franco, “caudillo de España por la gracia de Dios” (leader of Spain by the grace of God), according to the coins, when one never used outside voices while walking the streets patrolled by stern faced guardia civil with firearms.

So, maybe using outside voices is a social thing learned from childhood: to be heard over one’s male siblings and family members, girls tend to lift up their voices. It could be, too, that screaming and screeching are learned and reinforced on unsupervised toddlers when they’re ignored rather than disciplined for running amok and yelling at the top of their lungs in supermarkets and other public places, where inside voices are expected.

Spain is loud, a country of outside voices and sounds.

Facing us on the same street is a family comprising a middle-aged woman, her elderly mother, a twenty-something young man without work and living at home, and two very young grandchildren. A husband appears periodically. From early morning until what we consider late at night (10:00 pm), they are in their doorway using loud, outside voices.

And it’s not only them.

Some women, especially, terrify our dogs with their loud, high-pitched voices. Men, too, project their bass and baritone tenors decibels beyond normal hearing levels. Sometimes, we’re not certain whether they’re having a heated argument or just an everyday discussion … so we mind our business and don’t get involved. Due to the often industrial nature of their workplaces, men can be heard using outside voices inside.

Why do the Spanish shout when talking?

Sometimes, people may shout to be heard. This is not necessarily rude but indicates full engagement with the discussion. One often hears Spaniards call out and even heckle during speaking engagements and performances. This is expected to be taken in jest.

“I live in Madrid and share a flat with a few Spaniards,” says Sofía. “It depends on the crowd, to be honest, but I found that Spanish girls in particular tend to get pretty loud, even for me (Italian f). I used to live in Germany before moving to Spain and I am not surprised to find the difference in decibels a bit jarring.”

Nuno, a Spaniard, responds: “We love being loud. Loud means friends. Loud means fun. Loud means interesting. Loud means fiesta. There’s nothing worse than a silent bar.”

Spain is a loud country.

The bread man leans too long on his horn during his morning runs up and down the streets. Machismo throttling of motorcycles going the wrong way on one-way streets is deafening, as if the whine of the loudest motors denotes riders with the biggest cojones (or vice-versa). The vendors at the outdoor market bark as part of their sales routine. Even the rumbling of cars with diesel engines momentarily stopped albeit beating and belching — along with their fumes — are enough to disturb the peace. Heck, there’s even slang in Spanish (ruidoso/a) or (escandaloso/a) to describe the noise. Language textbooks make note of Spain’s noise:

• Mike didn’t like going to the city because it was always so noisy.
A Miguel no le gustaba ir al centro porque siempre era muy ruidosa.

• María was happy when school started because the noisy children were gone for a while.
María estaba contenta cuando empezaron las clases porque los niños ruidosos se irían por un rato.

Excessive noise seriously harms human health and interferes with people’s daily activities at school, at work, at home and during leisure time. It can disturb sleep, cause cardiovascular and psychophysiological effects, reduce performance, and provoke annoyance responses and changes in social behavior. According to research by the American College of Cardiology, noise pollution is linked to an increase in cardiovascular problems. The stress of constant noise results in the more frequent release of cortisol — the infamous stress hormone — which damages blood vessels.

Noise has emerged as a leading environmental nuisance in the WHO European Region, and the public complains about excessive noise more and more often.

The noise levels in Spain are generally a little higher than one might find in other countries. In fact, according to the World Health Organization (WHO), the only country higher on the decibel tables worldwide is Japan.

No matter where or when, Spain is loud.

“It doesn’t matter what time it is, or what type of environment. I have been having breakfast at 8:00 am in a restaurant with Brits and Swedes and there is conversation. I can make out every word they say from across the room … until one Spanish family arrives,” shares a Brit. “They arrive at the table with their speaker phones on because, apparently, they think I need to hear both sides of their loud conversation. And they ignore their children to the point that the kids are screaming for attention. When they do decide to acknowledge the kids, they scream even louder.”

Attempting to sound a bit more diplomatic, I’ve often said that the Portuguese evidence more soul, while the Spaniards are more spirited.

Nonetheless, much as I have been tempted to (nicely) ask a Spaniard to speak more softly, I remind myself that I am an expat for a time in their country. I have no right to intrude on their culture … or communication modus operandi, for that matter.

Yet, even foreigners are entitled to a fair share of accommodation and hospitality …

Last night, I was awakened after midnight by the voices of a man, his young son, and their dog cavorting in the street in front of our house. The ruckus continued for more than half an hour, awakening my dogs who began barking. Finally, I went to the window and said, “Es medianoche. Cállense, por favor” (It’s midnight. Please be quiet.).

And, no, I didn’t use my inside voice.

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

Processing…

Success! You're on the list.

Whoops! There was an error and we couldn't process your subscription. Please reload the page and try again.

Selling Portugal

Posted on January 12, 2023 by Pastor Bruce

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 Traveler, Político, The Los Angeles Times, CNN, 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.

And, yes, some of them advertise in Portugal Living Magazine. (Think of us as a Portuguese Robin Hood–charging advertisers so we can provide free subscriptions to readers!)

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/

Processing…

Success! You're on the list.

Whoops! There was an error and we couldn't process your subscription. Please reload the page and try again.

Masquerade

Posted on January 4, 2023 by Pastor Bruce

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.

Processing…

Success! You're on the list.

Whoops! There was an error and we couldn't process your subscription. Please reload the page and try again.

Spanish Towns, Portuguese Villages:

Posted on November 19, 2022 by Pastor Bruce

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/

Processing…

Success! You're on the list.

Whoops! There was an error and we couldn't process your subscription. Please reload the page and try again.

Fickle about Food

Posted on September 9, 2022 by Pastor Bruce

We’re fortunate to have a slew of supermarkets – Aldi, Auchan, Continente, Lidl, MiniPreço, Pingo Doce – conveniently located, within driving distance.

Except (possibly) for Auchan, we unfortunately lack the hipermercados … like El Corte Inglés, Carrefour, and E. LeClerc.

Why should that matter?

Because I’m fickle to the point of fetish about my foods. And not one of our area supermarkets – not even Auchan – carries the variety, brands, and even foods that I crave. Which means that going to the grocery is a day of shopping and playing supermarket sweepstakes.

Granted, I can get most of what I’m looking for at Auchan. Especially my wine. Heck, I’ve even purchased some clothes there! You must be careful about their prices, though. (The same J&J baby powder Auchan sells for €2.49 costs only €1.75 at my neighborhood grocery.) And the super-sized box doesn’t sell the zumo de toronja rosa (grapefruit juice) that I mix with my morning zumo de laranja (orange juice) and daily dose of pills.

I don’t particularly care for Auchan’s orange juice. Even the squeeze-it-yourself machine that, depending on the oranges, puts out too sweet or sour juice.

The OJ honor goes to Lidl, whose cold bottled orange juice (with just a little pulp) is by far my favorite. At Lidl – or Aldi – I can get orange juice I’ll drink, although we prefer the cuts of meat butchered by Lidl. Aldi’s delicious mini quiches in the bakery department aren’t sold anywhere else. But, like Lidl, their stock always changes, and you never can be certain that what you bought there last week will be there next. Aldi’s prices are higher on that good stuff on special that week … of which there’s much more of it at Lidl. Lidl also carries a rather decent cole slaw (ensaladilla americana) and – sometimes – even the better potato salad (ensaladilla de patatas) brands, of which they sell two. We’ve tried them both. One is slathered with gobs of mayonnaise or crème fraiche (we don’t care for that one), while the other isn’t covered with so much sloppy fat and contains small pickles, carrots, and other appropriate veggies.

A creature of habit, I know what I like … so, our weekly shopping trek usually takes us from Auchan > Lidl > Continente.

Why Continente? Because, to us, the bakery items sold there are better. (At least they taste better to us.) Plus, Continente is the only store in Castelo Branco that sells real, honest-to-goodness grapefruit juice … produced or packaged by Andros. Elsewhere, you can find juices of other flavors – orange, apple, multi-fruit – with the Andros label, but not grapefruit. Sometimes, if we’re lucky, we’ll also be able to find Continente’s own brand of Bailey’s Irish Cream, a lip-smacking bargain at just €5.99 per bottle.

Alas, the only place where we can buy anything that comes close to Nathan’s, Hebrew National, Oscar-Meyer, Ball Park, or even Costco hot dogs is in Spain—at Mercadona. That’s why we purchased a “vacation” home (casa de ferias) on the Portuguese border with Spain at Badajoz. A side dish benefit is the number of restaurants in Spain that serve real, mouth-watering, hamburgers. There’s a chain of The Good Burger(s), along with Foster’s Hollywood … kind of a cross between Fuddruckers and Planet Hollywood.

After the car’s boot has stuffed itself on our groceries, it’s time to treat ourselves to lunch out. There are more than enough places around here with different cuisines that we like, although it usually boils down to either pizza or a family-style restaurant serving only a dozen or so Portuguese dishes … and we like at least half of them!

We bemoan the lack of good hamburger joints, frankfurter stands, even breakfast bistros like International House of Pancakes, Denny’s, Bob Evans, Waffle House, and Cracker Barrel. But we’re more than satisfied with the out-of-this-world pastries and breads here in Portugal that make for mighty fine breakfast fixings.

The problem with the restaurants around where we live – a district that occupies one-third of Portugal’s land space! – is that there just are too many or not enough. Feast or famine. If I had the money, I’d open a Tex-Mex, Thai, Japanese (more than sushi), or beefy steak house restaurant that serves London broil, prime ribs, and filet mignon. The thought of a real delicatessen makes my mouth water. Or even a takeout (“take away”) bagel emporium.

With all the Chinese shops on every corner, you’d think there’d be room for several Chinese restaurants here. One, at best, is mediocre. The other advertises “All you can eat” … which is not the same thing as a Chinese buffet! You order one dish at a time and, by the time your server comes to take away your third plate, you’re looked at disdainfully should you dare to order more. In Estremoz, near our second home (in Elvas), are some excellent restaurants where I enjoy eating even Portuguese food. Yummo: porco preto! Yet, tucked out of the way, on the outskirts of town, is a building that looks like it’s a lamp showroom. Instead, it houses the best Chinese buffet I have enjoyed in Portugal—down to General Tso’s chicken and hot-and-spicy whatevers.

Here, there´s rotating Indian food here that takes turns as the favorite. First, it was 7 Especiarias. It closed. Swagat, a combination of Indian and Nepalese—still is our favorite. Along came a family-owned and operated take away place which listed its menu for the following day on Facebook. People marvelled at the taste and heapings of the food carried away, as well as the gentility of the owners. Now, it appears that Taste of India is the flavor de jour, outshining Namaste (Vegeterian).

In terms of pizza parlors, we have more than enough … thank you. But what about Italian restaurants that serve more than pizza, spaghetti, and lasagna loaded with bechemel? Bring me some meatballs, at least!

Yeah, I know; I’ve heard it before: Some of you have no problem finding foods or places to eat. That’s what makes Lisbon, Porto, and Coimbra different in cuisine and culinary delights than Castelo Branco.

Here, we have our pastelerías. OMG! Portuguese sweets are second to none.

Bruce Joffe is publisher and creative director of Portugal Living Magazine, the “thoughtful magazine for people with Portugal on their minds.” You can read the current issue online and subscribe — FREE! — at https://portugallivingmagazine.com/our-current-issue. Prefer the feel of fingers flicking paper pages? High-quality, low-cost copies of Portugal Living Magazine are available through all Amazon sites.

Processing…

Success! You're on the list.

Whoops! There was an error and we couldn't process your subscription. Please reload the page and try again.

The BBB

Posted on June 17, 2022 by Pastor Bruce

Have you ever entertained the thought of retiring to some romantic place and opening a bed and breakfast there?

We have.

Nothing fancy, mind you; just a comfortable, offbeat place where weary workers or disheartened folks – single or couples – can relax and find some charm (or curiosities) and respite, off the beaten track.

For us, that means Portugal and southern Spain.

In these days of AirBnB, almost anyone can open a bed and breakfast. Anywhere. Even if you only have one “guest” bedroom to spare … or a sofa-sleeper in your living room!

Not long ago, we spent several days at a bed and breakfast outside a substantial suburb at the fringes of a major Iberian provincial capital. The chaps who own the place obviously love it and lavish cook-and-clean duties diligently on it daily. They’ve invested a lot of time, funds, and creativity in establishing an attractive b&b.

But it can be the little things – sometimes overlooked by people thinking they can create an idyllic bed and breakfast – that make all the difference between a memorable experience and one that won’t be repeated anytime soon.

As many people are hoping to move away from the USA or the UK or anywhere else and open a B&B in Spain or Portugal, here are a few observations and considerations for building the better bed and breakfast (The BBB):

• Warmth—Beyond the comeliness and hospitality of a bed and breakfast is the mere matter of its comfort factor. As in temperature. Nobody enjoys staying in a bone-chilling room when it’s raining and nasty cold outside. If heating is provided by a single source (i.e., the warm setting of an air conditioner), consider back-ups. Even a portable electric heater can turn an unpleasant environment into a more comfortable one. Conversely, an air conditioner is an essential cost of doing business when inviting people to stay during warmer times.

• Beds—Some people prefer to sleep au naturel. So, sleeping in a bed covered only by a nice duvet cover over a heavy blanket or comforter may be okay; but top (and bottom) sheets are better. After all, do you really want guests to wonder whose skin had caressed the comforter before they did? And, of course, provide comfortable mattresses.

• Breakfast—Juice, fruits, cereals and yogurt, eggs, tortillas, toast, an assortment of charcuterie, and coffee (or tea) are delicious. Tasty and fulfilling. The first day (and maybe the second). But lacking distinction in this all-too-important meal, day after day, can become tiresome and ritualistic. There’s truth to the adage that, “variety is the spice of life.”

• Lighting and Electrical—By all means, have enough. Some is good … more is better … too much is just enough! Many of us like to read in bed. A light – even a clip-one to the headboard – is essential. Who wants to get up to turn off the overhead light(s) just when we’re ready to close our eyes and fall asleep, because there aren’t any lamps on the nightstands on the side of the bed? Then, too, some of us travel with quite a few contrivances: computers, laptops, devices, irons, whatever. Outlets providing 110/220-AC/DC are essential!

• Slipping and Sliding—Having suffered a broken a leg (and currently saddled with five pins around my ankle and a titanium rod in my shin), I have no desire whatsoever to repeat the experience. So, please – please! – consider your flooring … especially in the bathrooms. Shiny surfaces (aka “glazed” tiles) may look wonderful, but they can become sheets of ice when wet feet come in contact with them. Especially when trying to reach for that towel at the other end of the bathroom! How much safer and simpler are those tacky plastic mats for inside the bathtub, a rug and a utilitarian hook close to the shower for hanging the towel! Similarly, you may have gorgeous marble staircases … or ceramic or tile. Remember that they can be slippery. We’ve heard more than one sad story about a top-of-the-line b&b where a guest accidentally slipped down the steps.

• Hot H20—Honestly, is anything worse than running out of hot water when you’re in the middle of taking a shower or about to begin shaving? Fortunately, today’s technology can provide hot water, continuously, courtesy of relatively inexpensive, on-demand water heaters. If you’re thinking of turning your place into a b&b, please be sure your guests don’t get a cold shoulder without continuous running hot water.

• Computers—They may be called “laptops,” but sitting in bed with a computer on your lap is awkward at best and doesn’t work (at worst). Better bed and breakfasts provide a desk (and chair) where one can work online conveniently and comfortably.

• Je ne sais quoi–When push comes to shove, it’s the congeniality, the ambience, the undefinable yet unmistakable personality of your place that guests will remember and why they’ll come back again and/or recommend your hideaway to others. Those teeth-gritting exercises in being pleasant to people arriving four or five hours before check-in time … the tasty treat or homemade snack … the continued cleanliness of your rooms and gathering spaces distinguish you from the downtown hotels and near-to-the-airport facilities.

Each of these little comforts and conveniences add up to a BBB: a Better Bed & Breakfast!

Bruce Joffe is publisher and creative director of Portugal Living Magazine. You are invited to read our current and past issues on this page of its website. For those who prefer the feel of paper pages, paperback editions of the magazine are available at all Amazon sites.

Processing…

Success! You're on the list.

Whoops! There was an error and we couldn't process your subscription. Please reload the page and try again.

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Posted on March 4, 2022 by Pastor Bruce

It’s those seemingly little frustrations while living in Portugal or Spain that can make you angry and disgruntled, wanting or needing to rant.

Like going to the dentist.

I’m not referring to being treated by the dentist, which sometimes can be painful, but the whole series of complex procedures involved. Especially if you have dental insurance.

It had been a while since we’d had our teeth and gums cleaned, and wanted to check that off our bucket list. Cleaner teeth are easier to wrap your tongue around and actually feel smoother after brushing.

Our dentist, mind you, is great … it’s the bureaucracy, finger-pointing, and “not my responsibility” attitude involved. Plus, of course, all the time waiting.

Step #1—We log on to our insurance company’s network of affiliated providers, choosing “Dental” rather than “Medical,” “Well Being,” or “Hospitals” from the options. With the pull-down menus, we select our province, district, concelho, and specialty (general dentistry).

Step #2—We’re delighted to find that the clinic where our medical doctor practices tops of the list of three area providers that accept our insurance.

Step #3—Appointments are made, rescheduled, rescheduled again, and rescheduled once more. Internal matters at the clinic, you know.

Step #4—We show up on time (the scheduled hour, not the Portuguese one), check in with the receptionist, fill out a couple of forms, and wait for about 45 minutes before I’m called – the first patient in a full waiting room – into the dentist’s office. My partner will have to wait.

Step #5—The dentist and I exchange small talk as I’m seated in the curvy horror chair with all those awful attachments. Turns out, he’s just recently relocated to Portugal from Cuba. I feel somewhat better, knowing that, whatever else may be wrong in Cuba, its health care is known to be outstanding. The receptionist is role-playing dental assistant now, getting everything ready for the dentist (and me). She speaks Portuguese, not English or Spanish; the dentist can speak Portuguese, but prefers talking to me in Spanish. Throughout my 15-minute cleaning, he speaks Spanish into my right ear, while she speaks Portuguese into my left. Apart from all the head movements and rotations required, my head is spinning from trying to sort the two languages spoken simultaneously into my orifices. The cleaning completed, I’m told to rinse out my mouth with the water in the paper cup held by one of the chair’s many tentacles. I’m escorted back to the waiting room. It’s my partner’s turn now.

Step #6—As Russ undergoes an intensely long cleaning, I attempt to deal with a very flustered man seated in the receptionist chair, trying to find and/or organize records and documents scattered all around him. I hand him my insurance card, telling him to save us both time by billing of our cleanings so we can leave as soon as Russ is finished. After pecking at the computer, he pulls out binders full of papers and folders full of files. Nowhere can he find what he’s looking for. He picks up the phone and uses the intercom button to summon the receptionist (aka dental assistant) up front. Speaking a mile a minute in rapid-fire Portuguese, she returns to the dentist as the man behind the desk turns to me. “We don’t accept this insurance,” he says. Fortunately, I have printed out the dentists covered by our insurance plan, pointing out the clinic at the top of the list. He shakes his head, obviously at his wit’s end. “I’m sorry,” he shrugs in Portuguese. I hand him my Portuguese debit card and pay the 80 euros — @ 40€ per cleaning – figuring I’ll take the matter up with my insurance representative. Russ comes up front saying, “The dentist can’t do a full cleaning … my teeth are too tartared. We’ve got to come back.” We leave and head home.

Step #7—As soon as we’re home, I send an email to my insurance representative, explaining what had happened and asking him to, please, deal with it for us. Knowing all too well that it would be a while before receiving a response, I take care of some business and then return to the clinic the next day with Russ. He is seen by the dentist immediately.

Step #8—Half an hour later, Russ is back in the reception area. Turns out he has had more than a dental cleaning, but a tooth extraction as well. I don’t bring up the matter of insurance with the receptionist (last night’s dental assistant); I just hand her our debit card . At this point, I have three invoices and three receipts documenting my payments. We’ve paid €120 out of pocket to the clinic.

Step #9—Back home, I look to see if my insurance rep has responded. He hasn’t. I scan copies of the dental invoices and receipts, attaching them to the earlier message I had sent. I await his reply, I repeat.

Step #10—He replies, stating that the dental clinic is, indeed, a member of the insurance provider’s network. He attaches a file from the clinic showing all the insurance coverages it accepts. Ours isn’t there; but the rep says that our insurance company is part of another insurance company which is listed. “You will need to resolve this with the clinic,” he says, matter-of-factly. “The problem is with them, not with us.”

Step #11—We return the next morning to the clinic, assuming that – with insurance documents in hand – everything will be easy-peasy and we’ll be refunded our payments on the spot. Yeah, right. According to the very sweet receptionist, maybe four or five years ago, with a different dentist, the clinic accepted the “other” insurance (the one our insurance company alluded to) … but certainly not – ever! – ours. Who knew that insurance follows the doctor (or dentist), not the clinic? I hand her the email from my insurance agent and ask if she would be so kind as to call him while I stand there. She does, arguing with him over the phone for about twenty minutes. Smiling at me, she then says everything has been taken care of and that I should have a nice afternoon. “So, who is going to reimburse me the €120 I paid?” I ask her. “You’ll have to talk to your insurance agent about that,” she replies.

Step #12—Home again, I check my emails once more. Still no response from my insurance agent. I send him a new email asking him how this can be resolved: I’m between a rock and a hard place, out €120 because the dental clinic insists it’s not affiliated with my insurance provider and my insurance agent claims that it is. Really pissed at this point, I end my email reminding the agent that the signature line of his email shows his title as “Client Customer Service” and that customer service means more than paying bills and processing payments.

Step #13—Not much later, I receive the agent’s response: “Thank you for your email. Regarding the insurance company’s dental obligations, our agreement with the dental clinic is done through the company I mentioned,” he begins. “According to the clinic’s website, they have an agreement for dental treatments with that company—see the clinic’s insurance agreements on its website. As you can easily confirm, we provided you the same information that is mentioned in ours and the clinic´s records … which is that the clinic belongs to our dental network.”

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.

##End of Rant##

Bruce Joffe is publisher and creative director of Portugal Living Magazine. You can read the current issue and subscribe, without cost, online: https://portugallivingmagazine.com/our-current-issue/

Processing…

Success! You're on the list.

Whoops! There was an error and we couldn't process your subscription. Please reload the page and try again.

Shoo, Fly

Posted on February 13, 2022 by Pastor Bruce

They’re back.

Already.

And it’s still only early spring.

Maybe they never really left?

I’m talking about flies, gnats, buzzy buggers, and hovering hoodwinks. Not to mention ‘squitos, dive-bombers, and flying ants.

They land on our food, swim in our drinks, nest down our drainpipes, lodge in our eyes, sing trebling love songs in our ears.

And no matter how we try, we can’t get rid of them.

Invest what you will in window fly screens, swatters, battery-operated boomerangs, electric gizmos or gadgets that zap them, hang sticky strips that grab and hold them, or buy old-fashioned “natural” aerosols that claim to remove them in an environmentally friendly way.

The only sure-fire way to get rid of them – one at a time – is to have someone as talented as my partner, Russ, around. (Except, perhaps for David and his Goliath slingshot, I’ve yet to meet anyone else who can precisely target flies with rubber bands, hit them with bullseye precision, and watch them drop. One of these days I am going to shoot a video of his perfect aim and conquests, then post it on YouTube or submit the vid to America’s Got Talent.)

Like cockroaches and rodents, the swarming wings of insect brigades — or even an errant fly out of season — refuse to surrender. Ever notice how the bigger (older?) ones don’t have the get-up-and-go of the smaller, swaggering, bolder ones? The latter always seem to get away, staying around to tease us again and again. Their fatter friends are easier to smash as they languish lazily on a windowpane, drawer, or refrigerator door.

Heaven help us when those invasive Asian tiger mosquitos descend!

Of all the places we lived before Portugal and Spain, only West Virginia came close to the number of flying demons and little lady bugs – Japanese beetles – that committed collective hari-kari on the inside tracks of our sliding doors. What a stink, sweeping them up or emptying the vacuum cleaner bags. Mountain folk wisdom was to hang a clear plastic bag full of water on your entry door. That would keep them out. Curiously, it often did.

But not here in Iberia, where they’re everywhere we want to be. Basically, our choices boil down to being oblivious and ignoring them, as the natives do (even when the darned nasties are crawling all over their skin). Aren’t you tempted, honestly, to reach out and smack that litter bugger crawling up and down the cheeks of the person sitting opposite you, his or her tearful sweat creating swimming pools for flies?

If you can’t – or won’t – learn to live with them, you’ll need to live without them. You know what that means …

In my role as a public relations executive, one of our accounts was a homeopathic bug spray company that promised to do away with the bugs harmlessly and recycle them back into the earth. Their packaging and cans were idyllic—using pastel colors and lyrical wording to make shoppers feel less guilty about destroying the predators. But, despite all good intentions, customers weren’t buying it. My job was to find out why. We used focus groups. Here’s what we learned: When it comes to killing these stealthy pests, people bypass the pretty cans in grocery store aisles and head for the skull and crossbones, instead.

RAID: KILLS BUGS DEAD!

That’s the message most consumers like me want to hear.

Because bugs make themselves at home with us (not contributing to the mortgage or rent) in our kitchens and dining rooms, or – worse – our bedrooms and bathrooms. Can there be anything more annoying than sitting down to take a wiz or do a #2 … only to discover that you’ve got insatiable company in the loo? Or, for that matter, more satisfying than smashing their innards out with a magazine, newspaper, advertising flyer, or paperback book in hand before taking care of your business?

Except for a mention, I’m not planning to discuss the flying bombasts that cling for dear life to our car grilles, mirrors, bumpers, and painted surfaces. Florida calls them “love bugs,” probably because they love to hug and kiss these objects of our desire … leaving their residues behind to clog the namesake lattices and bumpers of our vehicles and ruin the luster of extra-cost metallic paints with their kindred clusters.

Shoo Fly, Don’t Bother Me is *a minstrel show song from the 1860s that has remained popular since that time. It was sung by soldiers during the Spanish–American War of 1898, when flies and the yellow fever mosquito were a serious enemy.

I’ve got news for *Wikipedia: they still are.

Whether in Portugal or Spain, this American is tempted to scream these words in his war against the flying, hovering whizzes from hell, marauders that would make me their prey:

Shoo fly, don’t bother me!!!

Bruce Joffe is Publisher and Creative Director of Portugal Living Magazine. You can read the magazine’s current issue online and subscribe at no charge: https://portugallivingmagazine.com/our-current-issue/

Processing…

Success! You're on the list.

Whoops! There was an error and we couldn't process your subscription. Please reload the page and try again.

Welcome to Portugal Living Magazine

Posted on January 25, 2022 by Pastor Bruce

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!