It’s common knowledge that Paris and much of France shuts down for vacation in August.

What’s not that well-known is that many French people head to Spain and Portugal, where they visit their “poor” cousins, friends, and family members while enjoying down-home Portuguese and Spanish hospitality.

In other words, “férias!”

Throughout the month of August, those of us living in central Portugal cannot help but be bombarded by ubiquitous brightly-colored plastic bags hanging everywhere, imprinted with too many letters too small to read while driving, announcing this town’s férias … or that one’s.

Suddenly, little villages and larger towns are where it’s happening … with overpriced food cooked and eaten with flies al fresco, beer by the barrel or bottle, and second-string singers who – though advertised as famous – appear in our own little hamlets to entertain us.

Observes the Rev. António Vitalino in Reconquista, Beira Baixa’s regional religious newspaper, “Infelizmente não é apenas por causa da sua condiçao de ser peregrine, que o ser humano se desloca do torrã e do país onde nasceu. Mas também devido a guerras, a perseguições, a cataclismos e à fome.”*

Father Vitalino obviously overlooked or forgot about the férias!

Assuming, of course, that fires don’t disrupt the festivities, the férias change everything … for better and worse, beginning with the people. Overcapacity indulging is what turns community “festas” into férias.

Joyous occasions though these celebrations can be, they bring along with them troubles … and trash.Trash bins that barely can contain their own disposables now overflow, unable to close. More refuse in plastic bags continues to be added and placed on top of and next to the bins, where cats and dogs roaming the streets rip them open and feast of their entrails … leaving tracks of thrown-away food and decayed vittles throughout the village.

“Land mines” multiply, as an influx of immigrant dogs and cats that accompany adults and children are let loose to litter on our streets.

Capillaries barely capable of carrying – or accommodating – vehicles to begin with are suddenly overwhelmed beyond capacity. Cars are left wherever: in the middle of streets, at roundabouts and intersections, double- and triple-parked, anywhere and everywhere.

No room at the inn? Forget the inn. There’s no room for the locals at their own coffee shops and bars, a sacrilege greater than sin.

Hobbit houses otherwise abandoned the rest of the year are brimming, bulging, and bursting at their seams with visitors and far-away families. Adolescents aged from barely double-digits to teenagers and young adults – people who should know better – go carousing noisily through the streets at very early morning hours, while their elders desperately try to rest and sleep. There’s plenty of noise-making at these férias. From the babble of voices around communal tables, eating and drinking … to the spine-chilling feedback of rebellious sound amplifiers … too-late hijinks of intoxicated youngsters weaving their way through our streets … and the firecrackers, a bit too dangerous for these times of ferocious fires.

Just as férias can be good for one’s soul and community spirit, it’s also quite healthy to bypass the hustle-bustle for calm and tranquility.

Needless to say, this year is quite different.

Maybe for their own good — and ours — people will stay put?

*“Unfortunately it is not only because of their pilgrim condition that the human being moves from the torrent and the country where he was born. But also because of wars, persecution, cataclysms and famine.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

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.

Undoubtedly, I’m going to be crucified for my confessions here, so be my guest … skip to the end of this piece … and give it your best shot.

“What do you miss most from the USA?” I’m frequently asked.

That’s changed quite a bit since living in Portugal and Spain almost four years; but, originally, leading my list was American-style coffee.

You know: what the locals, especially, refer to as “dirty water.”

Coffee is almost a religion in Portugal; but unlike religion, it’s worshiped daily here. Both the Portuguese and Spanish are addicted to their bold beverage, which they drink from early in the morning until late at night. From black Espresso Intenso to Ristretto Ardenza, the consistency of Iberian coffee seemed more like motor oil to me than the “pish” water we Americans drink and consider caffeine.

No, I wasn’t looking for that over-priced, sugary, syrupy Starbucks stuff that’s more like make-believe ice cream dressed up as coffee, but something more akin to my mellow-morning-medium-roast-breakfast-blend: Folgers, Maxwell House, Chock Full O’Nuts, even Costco’s Kirkland brand.

Anything but “instant.”

Along with the coffee, I yearned for my Keurig coffee maker. Nescafé (clutching my pearls!) makes something like it, known as “Dolce Gusto,” but it’s just not the same. Besides, the polluting plastic pods (Nescafé produces them for the Dolce Gusto) are more java-jolting than Green Mountain’s, whose name, at least, implies environmentally-friendly.

So, we ditched the Dolce and, little by little, I adjusted to Portuguese (and Spanish) coffee. Actually, there are some “flavors” and brands that I really appreciate … even more than the American stuff I’ve abandoned. Especially the Sical blend. By the numbers, I guess I prefer those deemed 5, 6, or 7. Beyond that, the brews are too bitter and brash for my taste.

Having satisfied my need for a morning pick-me-up, what I miss most from the USA — apart from some people — is food.

Topping the chart is a real New York City Carnegie Deli-style sandwich piled high with spicy pastrami on rye bread with a shmear of mustard, some creamy cole slaw, a sour pickle, and cheese cake that adds pounds to your waistline just by admiring it. (Carnegie’s has closed, but similar fare has been available at Katz’s Delicatessen—since 1888!)

Oh, for Nathan’s “Coney Island” all-beef hot dogs heaped high with sauerkraut and plenty of mustard on a bun. Heck, given those turd-like specimens swimming about in slimy water that are sold in the stores here, I’d be happy with Hebrew National or even Ball Park franks.

Freshly-made bagels – even “plain” ones not already in plastic bags – though onion, garlic, cinnamon raison, asiago cheese, and “everything” bagels would be heaven sent … if they were more easily accessible across the Iberian peninsula.

And steaks! Hunger-hunkering slabs of beef, perfectly cut with just the right amount of fat. Filet Mignon. Porterhouse. Rib Eye. Strip steak, flank steak, even top sirloin! But, please, not those strange cuts of meat butchered in too many Portuguese churrasqueira restaurants.

I wonder whether those Kansas City mail order steak houses deliver to Portugal?

Other favorite foods that are hopefully hiding on shelves somewhere around these parts are a wide(r) variety and selection of salad dressings – not just mayonnaise, olive oil, and vinegar, along with a token “ranch” – and Tabasco-style hot sauces (anything but Piri-Piri!) for Bloody Marys and Sunday brunches. Add a dash of red (hot) pepper flakes to the list!

Yes, yes, yes, I know: Much of this stuff is available in Lisbon and Porto, Madrid and Barcelona, and other expat ghettos. Or online. But we live in more rural areas, where it’s just not available or to be found.

Restaurants, too, I miss.

Hey, we have a food court with pepperoni pizza and foot-long, all beef hot dogs at the Costco in Sevilla … and Swedish meatballs are plentiful at Ikea.

But, what I wouldn’t give for a Tex-Mex restaurant’s multi-page menu featuring variations on the taco and tortilla themes! They’re probably there in the larger, more tourist-oriented cities. But what about Thai restaurants? Where are they hiding, apart from on the back pages of our Chinese restaurant menus? Speaking of Asian food, a Japanese restaurant couldn’t hurt. Heck, sometimes I even grow nostalgic for IHOPs (although rumor has it their menu has changed from stacks of flapjacks and waffles to burgers and pizza), Baskin-Robbins, and Dunkin’ Donuts–which I just came across in my local Continente.

It’s not that some of this stuff isn’t available here … just daring to be found. Expensive, too, at times. But we don’t live along the coast where Lisbon, Porto, and Algarve cater to the appetites of English-speaking expats and immigrants. Yes, I know that many if not most of these delicacies can be found in these big cities, along with wonderful supermarkets like Aldi and the Corte Inglés.

They’re just not here, where we live, or within driving distance.

Lest anyone worry, rest assured that we’re doing fine – really well – with what we do have here. And what we don’t have? We probably don’t need it, anyway. We’re still newbies, who are adjusting. Especially to all those flies attracted by food eaten al fresco!

After all, we do have with the coffee.

Despite being serious business in Portugal and Spain – an amphetamine and aphrodisiac of the gods to some – to me, coffee is just a morning beverage that’s sometimes enjoyed at the end of a good meal.

Blasphemy! Sacrilege! Heresy!

Now, let the carnage continue.

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.

Now, here’s a sensitive topic if there ever was one: tipping.

That extra “something” provided to (certain) people who provide services to us: waiters and waitresses, barbers and hair stylists, guides, helpers and assistants working for contractors you’re paying directly.

I’ve asked the question(s) many times of lots of people. And plenty, in turn, have asked me: Do you tip? Who(m)? Where? How much?

Unlike USA workers in some industries and trades, tips aren’t necessarily expected by their counterparts in Portugal and Spain.

But they’re surely appreciated … especially if unanticipated.

There’s a theoretical irony here in that a “tip,” according to reasonable references, was originally given “to insure promptness.” Promptness? Doesn’t that go against the grain here in Portugal and Spain?

But the reasons for gracious tipping these days go well beyond timing and promptness. They’re about the quality of service we receive.

Regardless of where they’re working or what they’re doing in their jobs, my understanding is that Portuguese and Spanish workers are entitled, at least, to the prevailing minimum wage. Restaurant workers in Spain receive at least the minimum wage, known as the Salario Mínimo Interprofesional (SMI), which is set by the government and applies to all workers regardless of their sector, age, or gender. In 2025, the annual minimum wage is €16,576 (US $19,429.56), distributed in 14 payments. Restaurant workers in Portugal are also legally entitled to the national minimum wage, €870 ($1,019.77) per month in 2025.

Not so in the “colonies,” where restaurant and salon workers (among others) are paid a lower minimum wage, often not even earning a living wage that covers the basic costs of a life. For them, tips comprise a substantial portion of their income.

Despite the lower costs of some products and services here on the Iberia peninsula, I couldn’t live on those wages. Could you?

So, yes, I tip. Because I feel good when I can help and give a little extra.

But only for good and/or special service. And, usually, not to the owner or proprietor of a business, even if s/he is the one who is serving me … although, contrary to the conventional rule not to, I do tip taxi drivers who help me load and unload lots of baggage to and from airports.

Not everyone tips. They just don’t believe in it, as it’s not part of their culture, upbringing, and overall formation. If and when they do tip, it’s typically given as a token—but appreciated nonetheless.

Tipping has been one of those difficult adjustments for me to make, now that we live in Portugal and Spain.

While I am tempted to use the same rule of thumb that guided my gratuities in the USA – 20% for good service, 10-15% for acceptable, less for less – I am seeing how awkward even appreciative workers here may feel and react when given a tip based on these percentages.

On my restaurant tab of, say, 20 Euros, most service staff are delighted to receive a one Euro tip … they seem uncomfortable accepting three euros (15%) or four (20%). Evidently, the rule of thumb is 5% in restaurants here and 10% only if lots of plates are being changed. Similarly, my barber is very grateful when I give him (or her) a 50 cent or one euro tip on a charge ranging from €6-14. More often than not, a few coins are appropriate and thankfully welcomed. Especially for beer or wine, coffee, and “raciones” (tapas).

When you do tip, try to leave it directly for those who have served you. In cash (or coins), not on credit or debit cards, whose transaction fees and merchant charges will be deducted from your largesse.

Ultimately, tipping – like most perks and bonuses – is a judgment call.

There’s no right or wrong, no rules or standards set in stone.

My advice about tipping, therefore, is to do what feels right for you. Tip or don’t tip, whenever, wherever, whatever you believe is appropriate.

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.