Since 2020 has been such a bummer, with restrictions on movements and gatherings continuing today into 2021, we aren’t able to host our annual Open House get-together with family, friends, and neighbors. So, I will make do by reminiscing — and sharing — last year’s “festa” and hoping that this new year will be a time of recovery for all!

Feliz ano novo.

The day dawned delightful during my early morning walk with the dogs, providing Portugal’s blue and bright skies amid a string of belle weather days. Already the sun was beginning to rise earlier … with the roosters advancing their “wake-up” calls, while the town’s bells never missed a beat.

With the help of Facebook to prod people with props and reminders, we had decided to continue our annual tradition of celebrating the New Year with an open house. Last year, we combined the open house with a house-warming, as it was our first, full year of living in Portugal (and Spain), and we’d finally finished furnishing and making needed improvements.

An open house wasn’t that difficult to describe to those who spoke Portuguese: we explained that we invited guests to visit, at their convenience, between certain times … “stay as long or as little as you can,” we clarified. A house-warming, however? It simply didn’t translate.

Along with wines and beers, a variety of cheeses and appetizers are joining our fulsome-food buffet: Pisto, a vegetarian dish I’d learned to prepare from my grandmother in Spain more than 50 years ago (though I’m told the Portuguese people are familiar with it, too); the quintessential American mac-and-cheese, embellished by Russ but done Martha Stewart’s way; a new twist on my annual pot of beans and franks—beans and chourizo; meatballs served in a special, Piri-Piri sauce; and a heaping bowl of home-made Potato Salad. Plus all the little “side dishes” and samplers, of course.

Together, they offer an aromatic stew of smells, coalescing to greet our guests: friends, old and new.Side by side, the crockpots seem like similes – or metaphors? – for our lives: One, a humble slow cooker with but three basic settings (high, medium, low) purchased from Lidl for 20 euros; the other an oversize, state-of-the-art gizmo with settings and options galore.

Kind of hokey, huh?

Apart from four of us from the USA, most of those coming had moved to Portugal from elsewhere, becoming friends (first) online or meeting at gatherings with friends of other friends. Altogether, about two dozen are expected.

Our Portuguese friends and neighbors were grateful for the invitation, but felt some hesitation – perhaps reticence – about entering houses other than their own to share food and festivities. These bountiful and gracious people, often poor in pocket but rich in heart and spirit, would knock on our door, dropping off baskets of vegetables and fruits from their family quintas throughout the year.

No longer are we those “strange Americans” living among them … by now, they had adopted us. We’ve become their strange Americans!

Despite my limited language skills last year, I felt confident enough to do the honors by introducing friends and neighbors in Portuguese:

• Ele é o nosso amigo/Ela é a nossa amiga (He/she is our friend);
• Eles são os nossos amigos (They’re our friends);
• Ela é a nossa vizinha (She is our neighbor);
• Eles são os nossos vizinhos (They are our neighbors); and even
• Ela é a dona do mercado na esquina (She owns the market on the corner).

This year, my vocabulary and ability to use it have expanded.

Since January 1, 2019, we have dealt with Portuguese contractors on home repairs and remodeling. We’ve traveled and got lost around the roundabouts—asking directions and, finally, finding our way. Processing down the street with our neighbors, we mourned the passing of people we knew, and participated in our village’s ferias by placing flower petals along the street. We made purchases – major and minor – and financial decisions, dealing with salespeople and bankers. We suffered medical exams with doctors and staff who didn’t speak English, answering their questions as best we could. And we responded to the dictates of government bureaucracy, as well as those of big business: Freguesias, Cámaras, Centros da Saúde, Segurança Social, IMT, SEF, NHS, MEO, EDP. We began weekly Portuguese for Foreigners classes, applying our lessons about contractions (no, na, nos, nas) to others: do, da, das, dos; pelo, pela, pelos, pelas. While sitting on the “throne,” we read Portuguese advertisements of all shapes and sizes, newspaper stories and obituaries, and children’s books. We figured out the meanings of various signs lit on the motorways

.Last year, we could ask and answer simple questions; now, we are able to ask natives to speak more slowly—to repeat or explain what we don’t understand. Nonetheless, we can engage in limited conversations and dialogues … even if our accents still are awful and it’s all in the present tense. Our Portuguese pronunciation often falters, but we have learned to say “shkola” (escola), “shkreetorio” (escritorio), and “shkadera” (escadera), although we’re still at a loss about blending the end of some words with the beginning of others.

We have even begun to punctuate our conversations with typical pause phrases in Portuguese: “tá bem,” “pois, pois,” “pronto,” “é que …?” as well as to interject common rejoinders: “Tudo bem?” and “Não faz mal,” especially.

Language like this from our Portuguese textbook no longer is quite so intimidating: O Fernando é elecricista e trabalha por conta própia. Ele é casado e tem tres filhos. Os filhos são ainda muito jovens e por isso não andam na escola. A mulher do Fernando, a Ines, fica em casa com os meninos e prepara o jantar para o Fernando. Ele não almoça em casa, porque mora longe. Ele apanha o autocarro e chega a casa sempre cansado.

Still, there are many challenges ahead!

Our New Year’s resolutions include learning to correctly respond to the divisions of the day, so we know when it’s proper to say “Bom dia,” “Boa tarde,” or “Boa noite.”

Apparently, during mornings – until lunch – it’s “bom dia” … but, after eating lunch (13H-14H for the Portuguese), it becomes “boa tarde.” As for evening, there’s still some disagreement over whether “boa noite” is best said after eating dinner (jantar) … or after the skies turn dark and stars can be seen. And, what does one say – if anything – following that curious extra meal of the day: “lanche”?

Another resolution is to memorize our fiscal numbers (os números contribuientes), although our “números utentes” already are a forgotten cause.

We are so thankful for all of you, people who understand … people who care and share … people who love to live and live to love … people who follow those impossible dreams.

This is what the good life is about.

Good people. Good times. Good places. Good feelings.

Feeling good, knowing that you’re in a good place now.

We are. And we hope you are, too.

Happy New Year!

Shared here are personal observations, experiences, and happenstance that actually occurred to us as we moved from the USA to begin a new life in Portugal and Spain. Collected and compiled in EXPAT: Leaving the USA for Good, the book is available in hardcover, paperback, and eBook editions from Amazon and most online booksellers.

With all due respect to our friends and acquaintances who live in Portugal’s bigger cities and Spain’s metropolises – or, at least, in more upscale dwellings than ours – we who make our homes in the small towns and villages of these two Iberian countries lack and may covet what you probably have that we don’t: Creature comforts.

I’m talking about petite pleasures and little luxuries like central heating, mold-free residences, bug barriers, food without flies, and gnats not whining in your ears. Wouldn’t it be nice not to wipe down our digs daily because a layer of grit always appears overnight, sprinkling silt and dust bunnies on our table tops, furniture and floors! Most of all, however, I’m referring to the pure delight of starting my days with long, luxurious, hot, über strong showers.

To prioritize these niceties:

Along with our “creatures” – three Miniature Schnauzers – we work, eat, sleep, shower, and attend to life’s necessities in two adjoining rooms measuring no more than 40-square-meters (combined). In other words, about two-thirds of our time is spent in a concrete and plaster crucible with windows but zero, zilch, insulation. Nada. Which is why we mop and dust daily. We indulged ourselves and invested in an 18,000 BTU inverter air conditioning unit that, according to our research, is the most cost-effective and efficient way to keep us warm during the cold times, yet cooler if it’s hot. We set it at 19º C (66º F) when the temperature falls … and 24º C (75º F) once the heat hits those shades of hades. Yes, I know that we pay a steep price for such succor, with monthly electric (EDP) bills averaging 150 Euros for a three-story, 135m2 house.

Which brings me to my current rant:

We needed to replace our (gas-fired) water heater.

It’s bad enough that the infernal contraption is located up in our attic and almost impossible to reach … that each canister of propane fueling it weighs over 75 pounds and costs €24.40 or so in Portugal, €11.50 in Spain … and getting the canister up those misplaced steps to the attic, where it takes the contortions of two Cirque du Soleil performers to lift it up the stairs … roll it across the attic’s cement floor … stand it up again … and connect it to the water heater on the far side.

All of which wouldn’t be quite so awful, except that:

• We never know when the hot water is going to give up and run out, but it usually happens while I’m in the middle of a shower and need to shout my partner out of a deep sleep and a warm bed to venture up to the attic and change the canister;

• To achieve maximum heat from the water it outputs, the pressure setting must be dialed down; and

• When all is said and done, the shower water is still but between a dribble and drizzle of tepid, lukewarm water at best—and certainly not forceful enough to rinse the shampoo out of hair, shaving lather from a face, or soap off one’s skin. We were going through three gas cylinders that serve only our bathroom’s sink and shower every month. Adding insult to injury, there’s always – always! – unproductive propane still left in the tank.

The lady who owns the corner mini-market where we exchange our depleted “garrafas” for refills shakes her head “não,” wagging her finger. She explains emphatically (in Portuguese too rapid for me) that gas should only be used in the kitchen for cooking. Water, she insists, should be heated electrically. “But the electric is so expensive here …” I counter. She shrugs. And asks, “E aquelas?” referring to the three propane tanks we’d been going through each month. “Quanto custam?” How much arewere we spending every month on those propane canisters?

Eighty euros!

Would our electric bills increase more than that if we were to replace the feeble gas water heater with an electric one?

She doesn’t know, but suggests I ask EDP (the electric company), an electrician, or the appliance store where we buy the new unit. Fortunately, we’ve got a great electrodomésticos (appliance) shop managed by a good-looking guy who knows his stuff – he’s actually “energy-certified” – and explains the problem to us: Because the weather is colder, it requires more gas to heat the water. And since it’s coldest in the attic where the water heater is located, we’re not getting our money’s worth out of the propane. Always, some will remain.

Handsome João concurs that an electric water heater will serve our purposes better … and operating it should cost less than the €80 we’d been spending monthly on gas. Even with the 120 liter capacity model recommended for three people taking back-to-back showers.

We bought the unit and made arrangements for it to be installed, which included having electricity brought up to the attic. All should be ready to use in another week or so (probably “or so,” this being Portugal). Until then, we dashed down a flight of steps every morning in our terrycloth robes to avail ourselves of the guest bedroom shower.

We also did battle with water on another front: the mold. The most common causes of mold growing on walls and ceilings here are high humidity, condensation, and water leaks (often hidden inside the walls or ceilings). Check. Check. Check. In houses like ours, it’s not uncommon to have all three. Condensation forms when water vapor in the air meets cold surfaces and cools to become liquid. Leaking pipes near or inside of walls are a common cause of mold.

Say “hello” to typical village home construction in Spain and Portugal!

A bottle with bleach in hand, we spray the ceilings and walls whenever we notice any “damp” (as our British friends call it) shadow appearing. During colder times, especially, we move furniture away from the walls and take our clothing off the wardrobe rods that come in contact with walls. Following a heavy douse of bleach solution, we follow up with special “anti-mofo” spray and let the areas dry for 24 hours.

After the rainy season, we’ll need to have a new €8,000 roof installed next spring: a special “sandwich” with insulation between the faux-tile metal top and its bottom surface, that should cut down on the leaks and the moisture—along with the mold. It would also keep us warmer, reducing the electricity consumed by our aircon and new water heater.

Despite spending a bundle on our new water heater, we counted on all the money we’d be saving on our EDP bills.

Yeah, right.

The flies and the gnats already are gathering in anticipation.

Shared here are personal observations, experiences, and happenstance that actually occurred to us as we moved from the USA to begin a new life in Portugal and Spain. Collected and compiled in EXPAT: Leaving the USA for Good, the book is available in hardcover, paperback, and eBook editions from Amazon and most online booksellers.

Among Portugal’s extraordinary pleasures are its amazing panoramas, extraordinary places, and breathtaking vistas that can be enjoyed in a day trip.

From Algarve to Nazaré, people along the coast head to the Atlantic for a change of pace and a respite on the beach.

On the other side of the country, closer to its Iberian border, others cross into Spain along spiraling roads, with little villages dotting the way. Suddenly, we’re in another country … with different foods, related culture, and a somewhat “sister” language.

We typically travel into Spain on Sundays through Idanha a Nova and Segura, crossing a Roman bridge and aqueduct to enter Spain several kilometers before Alcántara. Apart from a few restaurants, a tourist trap or two, mini-mercado, and pharmacy, there’s not much else at this border town. For that, you’ll need to drive another 40 kms or so.

The food, however, is quite good at the area’s three restaurants: Kantara (the most expensive), Kantara Al Saif, and Gundin (our favorite). Gundin’s €11.00 Menu del Día provides the best gazpacho I’ve ever enjoyed. Except for the bread (Spain doesn’t come close to Portugal’s bread), the other two dishes are also quite tasty.

This time, though, we headed farther north – through Penamacor – to visit Valverde del Fresno for its Thursday market. The town is 16 kms from the Portugal border which, in turn, is 16 kms from Penamacor.

While we looked forward to a Spanish meal, we were on a special mission this trip: shopping for stuff at prices cheaper than in Portugal.

Textiles!

The irony is that thick, plush, absorbent, 100% cotton towels tagged with “Made in Portugal” labels cost half the price in Spain. Same for linens—from sheet sets to table cloths and coverlets.

That’s the good news. The bad?

Regardless of mattress size – including “king” and “queen” – Spanish sheet sets contain only three pieces: a top sheet, bottom sheet, and pillow case—each almost the same size. For some reason unbeknown to us (or any salespeople), the Spaniards have humongous pillows—measuring almost 200 cms across! We, however, have two pillows … each about 75 cms wide.

So, despite the higher cost, we buy our sheets and pillow cases in Portugal, where the larger size sets come standard with two matching pillow cases. (And, no, the label doesn’t say “Made in Spain.”)

Our favorite place to shop for such textile goods is the Monday market in Fundão. It’s massive! In fact, our next expat get-together will be a trip to Fundão’s Monday market, followed by a fixed-price (€9.95) buffet lunch at the city’s Principe da Beira hotel.

Anyway, I’ve digressed …

Fait accompli: We purchased our towels and took time to poke about the town, which is bigger and much more typically Spanish than Alcántara. We’d forgotten that it’s an hour later in Spain than Portugal, so most of the shops were closing … and restaurants were filling.

Tapas. We wanted tapas!

In Olvera, our Spanish hometown, as in most of Andalucía – southern Spain – menus offer meals in three sizes: tapas, media (half) ración, and a full dish (ración). Not here in Extremadura! Patrons and wait staff at restaurant after restaurant explained to us that tapas weren’t available … but complimentary “pinchos” were served with the drinks.

In southern Spain, pinchos are a type of tapa—they’re anything served on a skewer. Here to the north, in Extremadura, pinchos refer to a small, tasty dish provided gratis that accompanies your beverage.

We ate at Restaurante Casa Laura. With 120 “excellent” TripAdvisor reviews – four times more than the closest competition – we soon understood why: the food is to die for there. We began with some beer accompanied by a small dish of pinchos, potatoes mixed with egg and pieces of chorizo in a carmel sauce. Yum-mo! The cool gazpacho soup was good (enough), followed by meatballs in a thick and rich tomato sauce for me and cod (bacalao) with nary a single bone for Russ. The pièce de résistance, however, was dessert: dreamy-creamy cheesecake.

Total tab for our lunch, including tip, was twenty-seven euros (€27), somewhat pricier than what we’ve paid in Alcántara. But well worth it! Everyone working at the restaurant was super friendly and all made a point of stopping by our table to be sure we were satisfied.

Heading back across the windy roads surrounded by a lush, distinctly parceled landscape, it occurred to us how different the topography of Spain is in some ways from Portugal’s.

The two countries are close enough to be kissing cousins, but remnants of historical bitterness and jealousies remain between them. That’s truly a shame, since they’re so convenient and complementary.

It’s good to see Portuguese people visiting Spain … and vice-versa.

Throughout the Castelo Branco district’s tantalizing come-hithers, we’ve come across many Spanish tourists taking day trips into Portugal.

Turnabout is surely fair play for us to sightsee and go shopping in Spain!

Shared here are personal observations, experiences, and happenstance that actually occurred to us as we moved from the USA to begin a new life in Portugal and Spain. Collected and compiled in EXPAT: Leaving the USA for Good, the book is available in hardcover, paperback, and eBook editions from Amazon and most online booksellers.

Relocating from the United States to the European Union? Especially Spain or Portugal?

Then consider the items listed below as invaluable traveling companions.

Much back-and-forth already has been written about whether to ship furniture, cars, appliances, artwork, keepsakes, and even clothing from one continent to the other. Ultimately, that’s a personal choice you’ll have to make yourself.

But, bear this in mind:

Once you decide to ship this piece of furniture or that collection of vinyl records, this set of family heirloom dinnerware or (only) all that artwork, their shipping cost can be less to rent an entire 8 X 8 X 20 container than to divvy your stuff, sharing someone else’s container. All things considered, it costs about five thousand dollars ($5,000) to ship that container from the USA to the EU. Prices do fluctuate, so it might cost a bit less … or a bit more.

Nonetheless, that’s not the purpose of my message here. If you want more information about international shipping, please read about our experiences in my post, “A Moving Experience.”

What I want to share with you, instead, are a list of ten little items that you may never have thought about or considered when planning what to pack for your bon voyage. Yet each can make a big difference to your lifestyle once you get here. Why bring them? Because, either they’re not available (i.e., readily accessible) here. Or, the price you’d pay for them is well beyond their prices in Yankeeville. So, sooner or later, you’ll find yourself asking people you know who are traveling this way, west to east, to bring back some of this and a little of that.

Ready to scribble some notes? Here’s my list.

(1) Eye drops like Visine, ClearEyes, “Artificial Tears” or similar store brands for red, dry, and/or tired eyes. Ask for them at a local pharmacy (items like eye drops and aspirin are only sold in pharmacies here) and you’ll, no doubt, be given the local version of “Restasis,” which is prescribed for dry eyes, although no prescription is needed here for it. A drop (or two) in each eye produces an oily-like feeling that brings discomfort, rather than relief. Return to the pharmacy with the last bottle you brought from home and you’ll likely be greeted with a shake of the head by the pharmacist. Such miracle medicinals for allergies, tired, or over-stressed eyes aren’t available in Spain or Portugal. So, be sure to bring a few with you!

(2) Low-dose aspirin. You know that 81 mg or so “baby aspirin” that your doctor will likely recommend you take daily If you’ve had a heart attack or stroke–or have a high risk of one (unless you have a serious allergy or history of bleeding)? A small container of 120 or more sells at most USA pharmacies for under two dollars. In Spain or Portugal, however, you’ll pay the same price and more for a 30-day supply.

(3) Crushed red pepper and/or Tabasco sauce. Some like it hot! I’m one of them. Yet no amount of Piri-Piri can compare with those red hot pepper flakes or that patented flavor that heats up your cooking (and works great in Bloody Marys, as well)!

(4) Duplicate of your state driver’s license. In Portugal and Spain, you’re required to turn in your state driver’s license when exchanging it for one in your new country of residence. In other words, you lose your USA driver’s license. But, what happens when (or if) you return to the states for a visit, vacation, or emergency? You’ll face quite a hassle, as your Spanish or Portuguese license isn’t recognized. Best bet is to contact your state’s motor vehicle department (DMV) well before departing and request a duplicate copy. Just say you lost yours. Or whatever. Then, when you turn over your state driver’s license for a new one in Iberia, you’ll still have a copy or your original one.

(5) Authorized copy of your birth certificate. Of all the legal, apostilled documents we made sure to bring with us (plus made plenty of paper and digitized copies), somehow we forgot to bring our birth certificates. After all, it was never asked for when we applied for our immigration visas … when we appeared at SEF for our residency docs … when we went to Finanças for our NIFs and NHRs … or when we spent the better part of a day at IMT transferring our driver licenses. Who would have thought that Social Security would require a birth certificate? When registering with this service — at least in Portugal — you’re asked to provide (and prove!) your parents’ names, whether living or deceased. A birth certificate (yours) is suggested. If you think there’s a lot of bureaucracy in Portugal and Spain, try requesting and obtaining an apostilled copy of your birth certificate from abroad!

(6) Plastic lids for cans. Granted, you can always use aluminum foil or plastic wrap. But they’re just not the same as those ubiquitous, multi-color plastic lids that “seal in the freshness” of food once you’ve opened the can. Good luck trying to find any in Spain or Portugal. Not even the all-purpose Chinese bazaars (Portugal) or Moroccan markets (Spain) carry them. Bring three or four with you.

(7) List of all the medicines and prescriptions you take. This is an item for your to-do list. Sit down with all of the medicines — prescribed and over-the-counter — that you take. Copy their “generic” (chemical) names, dosage, and instructions for taking them. Not only will your doctor(s) in Spain or Portugal want to know this information as part of your medical and health history, but pharmacists unfamiliar with what something is named or branded in the USA can determine what the appropriate equivalent is here.

(8) English language computer keyboard. Whether connected to a desktop or laptop computer, the keyboards sold in Portugal and Spain have different characters, along with the standard QWERTY keys we’re accustomed to. Sometimes, they’re located in diffeent places; other times, a single key is the source for producing three or more different characters, not just upper and lower case. Sure, you can configure the computer’s system so that the keyboard acts as an English language one; what you see on the keyboard, however, can vary dramatically from what you get on your screen. Regardless of the computer (or pad), it will respond effortlessly to an English language keyboard.

(9) Genuine “Sharpies.” The markers sold here just don’t compare for clarity and precision; few, if any, are “permanent.” If you’re labeling a freezer back with its contents identified and dated, for instance, only a Sharpie won’t smear. For those Sharpie afficionados out there, pick up a pack and pack it in your m/purse, laptop carrying case, or luggage.

(10) “Liquid Nails.” Wimpy facsimiles are available, but none work nearly as well. When fixing a broken ceramic pot, affixing a knob to a door, or holding something firmly for a long time, there’s nothing like this product for strength and durability. The real McCoy is extremely hard to find in Spain and Portugal–even online, where not even Amazon sells it.

Dividing our time between Portugal and Spain after living full-time for three years in Europe, these are the curiosities and, perhaps, oddities that we wish we’d have brought with us.

Maybe you have others … items we’ve overlooked? Please share your list with us!

Shared here are personal observations, experiences, and happenstance that actually occurred to us as we moved from the USA to begin a new life in Portugal and Spain. Collected and compiled in EXPAT: Leaving the USA for Good, the book is available in hardcover, paperback, and eBook editions from Amazon and most online booksellers.

In March 2017, Russ and I sold our modest home in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin, and walked away from the house and the USA with $135,000 in proceeds.

We invested the money in two Portuguese properties: one in a small village about 15 minutes outside of Castelo Branco … and the other – 18 months later – in a small village outside of Elvas in the Portalegre district, deliberately near the Spanish border at Badajoz.

(Almost fifteen years earlier, we had purchased a vacation bolt in one of the towns that dot inland Andalucía.)

While “privileged” in the absolute sense of the word, by no means were we rich, entitled, upper-class, or even upwardly mobile. One of us was about to retire on monthly Social Security payments of less than $2,000; the other earned about $1,000 per month as an independent contractor working remotely for a nonprofit organization. Yet, all three properties were purchased, renovated, updated and upgraded, then furnished (where needed) … with cash.

Takeaways from the above are that we believe in the value of real estate investments (at least here and now in Portugal and Spain); we prefer native villages, where learning to speak and understand other languages are de rigueur, rather than more “fashionable” and trendy places surrounded by other expats and immigrants whose language of choice is English; and that it’s definitely possible to purchase perfectly proper property in Portugal and Spain at remarkably low prices. Brilliant!

Each of our homes in Portugal is a study in contrasts, and quite different from our place in Spain.

With some 150m2 spread among three floors separated by a stairwell containing 37 steps, our first Portuguese purchase is in Lousa, a village of some 600 souls adjoined by its partnered “parish” (freguesía), within 20 kilometers of the big city: Castelo Branco. Sited on Rua Nossa Senhora Dos Altos Céus – the main street in town – it’s always amazing how vehicles large and small move in both directions, traversing such narrow confines, with cars and trucks parked on one side.

One of our first neighbors told me (in Portuguese) that people in the village wondered what would possess two American men to move to such a “nondescript” yet typical village in the central core of the country. I tried to explain to her that, perhaps it was the increasingly dark Americanisms devouring the USA that motivated us to move to a place with a slower pace, peaceful coexistence, and tangible tranquility.

Lousa has all the charm one could want in a homestead. Its cobblestone streets, standard blueprint church (igreja matriz) with bells that signal appointed times of our rotes and rituals exude an aura that is truly Portugal. Like every village, it reveres several saints, although paying homage to Nossa Senhora Dos Altos Céus during an annual, four-day festival.

Bespoken are the health care center, primary school, multi-sport playground, senior day care facility, “casa de cultura,” and meeting space for the “junta de freguesía.”

Not quite so obvious, however, are Lousa’s charm and character … a place where everyone knows who you are, if not your name. What the town is missing, however, are retail shops and eateries, whether snack bar or restaurant. With two, sometimes three, cafés and two facing mini-markets along the main street, all of the action passes by our house (which, earlier, had housed the village’s most popular café—where lottery tickets were sold).

Our third-floor bedroom has four large windows overlooking the street; so, everything from funeral processions to passing sheep and achingly old diesel engines crunching up the cobbled stones looms loud, up close and (a bit too) personal.

Remember those 37 steps mentioned at the top of this tale? With three dogs but without a backyard, they need to be four times every day (eight separate outings, as only two can be walked at a time). Going up and down that staircase certainly takes a physical toll!  

We do love the property, though.

The former café with its two separate restrooms (the men’s has a working urinal!) has been our gathering space, where we welcome friends and neighbors for food and drink. Behind it is a small patio, off of which is our kitchen and family room combination, where we cook, eat, and relax with our critters and Netflix. Above the kitchen, in that separate wing, is a secluded guest suite with private bathroom. Also on this first floor (as numbered in Portugal and Spain), albeit in the main part of the house, are our offices and an expansive living room. Up 18 steps from the landing is our own bedroom suite featuring an adjoining breakfast room and sleeping areas for the dogs, the master bedroom, walk-in closet, and another full bath. There’s quite a large, covered terrace comprising space for doing laundry, grilling, eating, and socializing. Atop the building is an attic with concrete floor under a new, insulated roof providing plenty of storage space.

All things considered – purchase price; major repairs to walls and floors; a new roof; upgrading the electricity throughout; new appliances: water heaters, four inverter aircon units, washer, dryer, three refrigerators, electric range and oven; and new cabinetry built to spec in the upper and lower kitchens – we spent about US $70,000 (slightly more than €50,000 at the current exchange rate).  Furniture and furnishings (artwork!) were shipped over from the USA.

We had thought about selling this property, as walking the dogs during the incredibly hot and nasty rainy seasons is a royal pain, encumbered by all those stairs. But how could we leave a place that had adopted us, where we’re integral strands in the fabric of the gentry, surrounded by immigrant friends from nearby towns and villages? We couldn’t.

Until we had no choice.

Our other Portuguese property is located in what’s known as the “high” Alentejo: Vila Boim is a village of 1,200, five kilometers outside of Elvas – a UNESCO World Heritage site – which, in turn, is just about 10 kilometers from Badajoz, Spain. Around the corner and up the street are several snack bars, cafés, and an upscale restaurant, along with a bank, pharmacy, and mini-market. Our streets here are paved in asphalt, rather than cobble-stoned.

If our former place in Lousa is spacious and plentiful, this property is cute and cozy. The bungalow style, single-story structure has one large bedroom, one full bath, a spacious dining room, intimate living room, brand new galley-style kitchen, and an office … all under roof housed in a tidy 55m2. The bonus “room” is a small, bricked backyard (quintal), where our dogs can take care of their business, and a substantial storage shed. My own, special bonus is a dishwasher in the kitchen (although Russ prefers the side-by-side “American” style refrigerator and freezer). From soup to nuts, we purchased and primed this property for carefree, full-time living at an approximate cost of US $55,000 (€46,500).

Even as novice language learners, we’re aware of slight differences in Portuguese pronunciation and accents between the two villages separated by less than 200 kilometers. In both locations we have guardian angels who watch out for our welfare and help us to better understand the Portuguese people, their language and culture. Similarly, opening our front doors to knocks or the bell, we find neighbors bringing us food from their farms. In return, we take home-made meals to them: classic American cuisine: mac and cheese, franks and beans, meatloaf, cheesecakes, our own ”piri-piri” meatballs and spaghetti.

Unlike our house in Lousa, the layout and build of the Vila Boim bungalow place the bedroom squarely in the middle of the house—cutting down, substantially, on street noise. Exterior walls are at least a meter thick, providing natural insulation and keeping our heating and cooling bills to a minimum. Due to its size, it’s easier to clean, maintain, and use the premises in full than our Lousa lodging.

Besides being next-door to Badajoz, a busy and bustling metropolis, two hours were shaved off our trip each way back and forth to Spain by leaving from our Vila Boim property, rather than the one in Lousa.

(A separate post on  pastorbrucesblog.com deals with our operating costs, living expenses, and monthly budget for all three properties.)

If you’ve been adding up the numbers given here, you’ll notice that we spent $125,000 of the $135,000 received from the sale of our house in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin. What did we do with the remaining $10,000? Half we put into savings. With the rest, we added a “fitted” kitchen and replaced our leaky, cast iron bathtub with a walk-in shower at our Olvera home.

But that is another story!

Bruce is publisher and creative director of Portugal Living Magazine, a free digital quarterly that covers the country top to bottom, east to west, inside and out. Read our current issue and subscribe at now cost: http://portugallivingmagazine.com/our-current-issue Visit the magazine’s popular Facebook Page (www.facebook.com/PortugalLivingMagazine) for dozens of daily posts and comments.

Shared here are personal observations, experiences, and happenstance that actually occurred to us as we moved from the USA to begin a new life in Portugal and Spain. Collected and compiled in EXPAT: Leaving the USA for Good, the book is available in hardcover, paperback, and eBook editions from Amazon and most online booksellers.