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.

We’re pissed off …

… because we are tired of stepping in dog poop on the cobble stones of our streets.

Today, one dog – wearing a collar but no leash attached to a person – followed us as I walked our dog around town. Ours had a collar, along with a leash held in my hand. In my pocket was a stash of poopy bags. Bending over to scoop up my dog’s “litter,” the other dog lifted his leg against the wall in front of us. Immediately, a window opened above and a woman began berating me to clean up after my dogs.

Waving the plastic poopy bag in her direction and explaining that only one of the dogs was mine, “I did!” I insisted. “It’s this other dog who is making the mess … following us and not leaving us alone.

”She slammed the window.

This is the time of year that families and friends visit our village as it swelters in heat and humidity. All those vacated houses shut up for much of the year are flung open again, filled with lives producing lots of litter.

Accompanying the adults are their children and pets.

Suddenly, it’s not just one or two stray dogs meandering and messing on our streets—at times it’s nearly a dozen. Because people open the front doors to let their dogs out and about town to dispense their “necessities.”

I don’t doubt that they love them, but being responsible and respectful of others are other matters entirely … regardless of culture of local tradition.

“We are planning on spending this summer in Portugal and taking our dog,” someone recently remarked online. “He’s not very sociable and doesn’t tolerate other dogs. Everything’s fine if we walk on the street and the other dog is on a leash, too; but things get nasty if the other dog is roaming free with no leash–our dog takes it as a potential attack and goes crazy, barking and pulling unbelievably!”

So, it’s not just a matter of health and hygiene for dogs to be restrained on leashes, but the safety of others as well.

I know it is wrong for foreigners like us to move into another country, imposing our own sets of values and assessing appropriate behavior. But the laws of Portugal are being broken.

Recent legislation requires people to be responsible for their pets. According to current law, it is mandatory to put a leash on pets in public places—like our village streets.

Moreover, every cat and dog “walking” in public places must wear a collar or harness with the name, address, and/or telephone number of its owner clearly inscribed.

Dogs and cats that haven’t been neutered, but allowed to roam loosely on the streets will follow their natural instincts and biology. Which means that more unwanted puppies and kittens will either be abandoned to the streets or dealt with fatefully in a way that makes me cringe and breaks my heart … even though (some) people believe it’s more merciful than condemning them to a life on the street.

Street animals will always be with us. It’s just the way things are. My comments here aren’t about these destitute critters, but directed to people with pets: Not only are they part of your family, but you have responsibilities – legal obligations — to your dogs and cats, as well as to others who live in the community.

Noise is one of the biggest problems between dogs and the people living around them. You’re responsible for ensuring they don’t disturb your neighbors.

Anyone experiencing problems can contact the police (GNR or PSP) and request that they stop the source of the noise. If you don’t, they can alert the council … which will issue a minimum fine of 500 euros! (You’ll also be fined if driving with dogs or cats in the car that aren’t tethered to the seat belt clasps or in carrying crates or “containers.”)

In addition to walking with pets on leashes in public places (and, presumably, picking up after them), and keeping them from being noisy neighbors, Portuguese law requires that you register your pet and have it licensed at the town hall (Junta de Freguesia) where you and the dog (or cat) live.

You’ll need a health report for the animal (with an up-to-date rabies vaccination) and documentation that an electronic identification chip has been implanted by a veterinarian in the left lateral side of the neck. You then have 30 days to register and license your pets(s) … and the registration must be renewed annually.

(Leave it to Portugal to identify dogs and cats as belonging to specific categories: Category A – Pet dog; B – Dogs for your economic livelihood; C – Dogs for military purposes; D – Dogs for scientific research; E – Hunting dogs; F – Guide dogs; G – Potentially dangerous dogs; H – Dangerous dogs; and I – Cats.Category G includes: Rottweilers, Brazilian Fila Dogs, Argentine Dogo, Pitt Bull Terriers, American Staffordshire Terriers, Staffordshire Bull Terriers, and Tosa Inu.)

People, please respect the rights of others by overseeing your pets. And if you’re planning to move to Portugal (or Spain, which imposes similar requirements and restrictions on pets and their people), be aware of what will be expected of you … and your furry family.

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Disclaimer: I share these stories of our experiences not to complain or seek sympathy, but because we are North Americans acculturating to another country’s norms and expectations. Information in posts such as this aren’t found in tourist or relocation guides … nor asked about and answered in most Facebook groups. Hopefully, some will learn from my anecdotes and be better prepared for the grit and grist, the grain of living abroad. We love Portugal for what it is, not what it isn’t, and have no intention of returning to the USA.

Bruce is publisher and creative director of Portugal Living Magazine. Read the current online issue and subscribe to the magazine at no cost whatsoever: http://portugallivingmagazine.com/our-current-issue

Months after arriving in Portugal and finishing much of the work on our property in Lousa, Castelo Branco, we decided to take our three dogs with us on a “real” vacation and see some of the sights (and sites) we’d thus far only posted Thumbs Up! *Likes* on Facebook pictures.

Our time away would be short (just six days) and our agenda agreeable: We’d stay somewhere near the beaches north of us, close to the coast, with easy access to Portugal’s convenient train system. From there, we’d take day trips: Monday’s market at Espinho, a gondola ride in Alveiro, the extraordinarily tiled buildings (especially the church) of Ovar, and a day sampling some of Porto’s special deliciousness.

Searching the listings on AirBnB, FlipKey, and TripAdviser, we found what sounded like the perfect place: a “romantic room in a magic place near the beach,” the property touted its “artistic atmosphere.” Offering “lots of privacy,” it was in front of the train station–just ten minutes to Porto!

Amenities included bed linens and bathroom towels, WiFi Internet, a private garden, and a kitchen with fridge, stove, toaster, and kettle. Plus, among the property’s features was its waterfront location!

The sole drawback (for us) was that its one-and-a-half bathrooms would be shared.

The place had been booked continuously, from April through October, according to its hosts. But with a bit of shuffling, six consecutive available days were found. I contacted the property’s lister with a bunch of questions: Would three dogs be acceptable? Was it a non-smoking property? How would sharing the bathroom(s) actually work?

“No problem at all,” she replied. “Just enjoy.”

Before losing our chance at what appeared to be a place ideally suited for us, I confirmed the reservation and paid by credit card.

Hindsight, at best, is 20/20. But using a credit card is paying it forward!

“Don’t you think it’s a little strange that, with all those bookings, there’s not even a single review for this place?” Russ asked me. Not one guest had taken a moment to say something – good, bad, indifferent – about their experience there. Most properties had a fair share of comments. Not this one, though.

That should have been a harbinger.

We packed the car and spent about €50 in tolls and a tank full of gas before pulling up and parking in front of the property.

“Is this it?” I asked, incredulously. There’s always one derelict property surrounded by others in pristine condition.

Ours was the destitute one.

Blue boards tried valiantly to look like a cross-weave pattern through which weeds wound their way up, down, and through the broken wooden remnants. An unlatched double gate, painted the same color blue, was opening and closing on one side, blown by the breeze.

From the exterior, at best it could be thought of as a “beach house” … but the word that stuck in my mind was “ramshackle.” Nowhere to be seen was a beach, let alone the promised waterfront.

Facing the house was the train station. Every ten minutes, sometimes sooner, we’d hear the tick-tick-tick-tick signaling an approaching train, followed by a series of bells, as the guard rails came down. Local commuter trains. Freight trains. Express train service between Porto and Lisbon. All stopped or sped by, clickity-clack, clickity-clack on the tracks, as the transports tooted, honked, squealed, and blared off-key melodies announcing their every approach and departure.

While Russ – with some help from the property agent and her artist – emptied the car and carried in our bags, I walked the dogs.

Our amiable hosts apologized when the bedroom’s inside door knob kept falling off and onto the floor, explaining that the property wasn’t actually theirs—they rented it from the owner, who had been negligent in his responsibilities regarding its upkeep.

Although the description specifically stated that the property’s two-bedroom, one full and one-half bath could accommodate four people, whether that took into account the two caretakers and their bedroom is uncertain.

Especially since the listing began in the singular: “Romantic room … near the beach” and unequivocally stated, “A total of 4 people can sleep here comfortably.”

Romantic room. Not rooms. A total of four people …

Our hosts then told us we would be joined the next day by other guests and their dog. Wouldn’t that be nice?

“If you had told us that earlier, we would have reconsidered …” was all I could muster, as we continued to take stock of the accommodations.

Our bedroom was at the front of the house, directly facing the trains. Mismatched furniture – a small “matrimonial” size bed with a well-worn mattress, throw pillows that felt as though they were filled with rice, two totally incompatible nightstands (one with a tiny lamp sold at most Chinese markets for ten euros), a bookcase, a round table with two chairs in front of the window – could all trace their ancestry to rummage sales or second-hand stores. Neither of the two bath towels on the bed compared to the ones we had bought at thrift shops in the USA for use as packing materials, and later used for the dogs.

An eclectic mix done well can be artistic and even elegant: “shabby chic.” Chic? This place was plain shabby.

If you’re renting this room out to a steady stream of people, how about investing twenty euros on a clothing rack, instead of the over-the-door hanger with five hooks? Isn’t that where bathrobes and towels hang? What about a bureau or chest-of-drawers? Where do people put their other stuff—underwear, socks, bathing gear, bathroom necessities, and collaterals? For that matter, where was a garbage can?

Nowhere near the bedroom, both bathrooms were way down the hall, beyond the kitchen. Add the full one (with shower and tub) and the half bath next door with only a sink and a WC, and you’d have one full and proper working bathroom. Depending on the time of day or night. Painted, one toilet was taped shut; the plastic toilet seat cover on the other wasn’t attached; so, using it was awkward. The sink’s faucets were outdated: scalding hot water came out of one spigot, cold from the other, yielding no comfortable temperature without filling the sink.

Not that it mattered. We had no hot water (in either bathroom) that night. Nor were our hosts around to help us deal with it.

The bathroom was missing a bath mat, an anti-slid mat, and a garbage can. The tub was lined with someone else’s bottles of shampoo and conditioner–more than a dozen of them! Two glass shelves near the sink were full of creams and cosmetics, powders and perfumes. There was no space for anything of the guests, so we schlepped our toiletries back to the bedroom.

Settling down to sleep that night, we were thankful the trains, by then, had stopped. (Two did pass in the middle of the night: at 2:00 and 4:00 AM, but didn’t honor us with their horns). Sleepless noises were constant, however, courtesy of the beach and its breezes: the front gate and shutters banged open and shut … again and again and again.

Itching to bite, one or more mosquitoes whined in my ears throughout the night. I slapped my face but missed the bugger.

The next morning, I went quietly to the kitchen. Sometime during the night or early that morning, someone had left a package of cheese open on a plate with a knife, a half-empty glass and coffee cup next to it. Flies weren’t fickle as they feasted.

Russ saw the upset look on my face when I came back to our room. “Let’s pack,” he implored. “We’re going back home!”

Following a hurried and harried breakfast at a nearby café, we hustled ourselves and the dogs out of there and headed back home.

Spending lazy time in Lousa and visiting nearby points of interest, we relaxed and tinkered together.

Merriam-Webster calls that a “staycation.”

Our credit card company, through which we disputed the charge (and won!), agreed with us, calling it a “sham!” and removing the property from its listings.

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.