Here are some random pictures we’ve taken recently. It seems that everywhere you go in Portugal, there’s something beautiful or amazing to see. We are so incredibly fortunate to be able to live in a place with so much beauty!

 

One of the reasons we made this move to Portugal was so that in our retirement we could see and experience things we never could on a regular basis, if at all, had we stayed home.

So when I saw the below link on Facebook, I eagerly clicked on it, ready to catalog some of its featured destinations for a future trip. Lo and behold, the second one on their list was in Portugal! I searched the town name of Óbidos in Google Maps, and discovered it was only an hour away from us!

In fact, the very first place they listed was in Salamanca, Spain, which is about a five hour drive away and certainly doable as well, although we’d probably want to spend the night instead of making it just a day trip. I think that will be next on our list!

Anyway, this day seemed like a good day for a Sunday drive, seeing as how it was Sunday and, well, Sunday drives are best when they’re done on the day they’re named after. If we tried a Sunday drive on Monday, I’m sure the Portuguese would really think we’re weird, and throw metric-measured tomatoes at us as they passed us by on the freeways.

So we hopped into the car and input the city name in our Waze app in order to listen to the dulcet tones of one of the Top Gear guys guiding us to our destination. By the way, Waze is a much better app for driving directions than either Google Maps or Apple’s Maps. Plus the Waze voice says funny things –sounding all the more amusing in their chipper British accent– such as: “Make a U-Turn, which means turning your car around in the completely opposite direction,” and “Congratulations! You have now reached your destination! Although, to be honest, I did most of the work.”

The town of Óbidos is located on a hilltop, and is encircled by a fortified wall from medieval times. We immediately hearkened back to our vacation last year when we delighted in seeing castles of all sorts throughout Ireland and London. We like castles!

So here follows a bunch of pictures we took while wandering about. To be honest, the cobblestone streets were not as much out of a fairy tale as we’d hoped. I think TripAdvisor oversold the fairy tale aspects of the town, and I’d certainly never want to stay in a hotel there just to be inside an area that can all be viewed in a couple of hours. Still, due to the castle itself, and the rest of it certainly being charming, we enjoyed ourselves immensely. We hope you do too:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

According to Marta, our real estate agent, most of the time when Portuguese are looking for a home, they look at three or four properties before deciding to buy.

We increased her average by a substantial amount.

However, it proved to be a worthwhile endeavor because the wide net we cast resulted in reeling in a home we absolutely fell in love with. It’s about fifteen minutes from downtown Sesimbra, fifteen minutes from some beautiful beaches, including Praia da Foz, which may actually be where the Fonz “jumped the shark” in his leather jacket, I dunno.

It’s also twenty minutes from the Cabo Espichel Lighthouse, which we showed pictures of in a previous post, 45 minutes from the airport, and a little under 14 hours as the crow flies from Portland. It’s in the “country,” but we have neighbors (although not very many), and all the services we need are within a fifteen minute drive. We won’t be able to take possession for a couple of months, but we’re excited!

The house and property actually reminds me a little bit of our home in Wilsonville, albeit smaller and half the cost. It has three bedrooms downstairs, his and hers bathrooms (they are outside of the master bedroom, which doesn’t bother us in the least), and a house-long upstairs that’ll serve as the man-attic, plus room to hide a few refugees.

Next on the agenda: we have to find an apartment to use as a rental somewhere in Lisbon. Now that we have our main home in our pocket, we know exactly what we have to spend for the second place, and of course our realtor Marta is getting to know what we like very well!

 

Yup, this is all we did today: took a number and waited. Long story short, we spent all day obtaining our NIF (Portuguese tax ID) and Portuguese bank account. That’s it.

We’re closing in on it! We don’t want to jinx anything by saying something too soon, but suffice it to say we definitely can see ourselves living someplace in Portugal, and we think the final choice will happen soon.

So far, everything has gone according to plan. We always have backup plans and backup plans for the backup plans, and plans to make backup plans for the backup plans for… well, you get the idea. But so far, we haven’t had to back up anywhere. Except into the street from the street-side parking at the Airbnb apartment we’re staying at, where you have to back up into the street without being able to see whoever might be coming. You grit your teeth, and back up slowly, hoping you won’t hear a blaring honk followed by a loud crunch. So far, so good.

Today we ended up back in Sesimbra (detecting a theme here?). Mostly these are pictures of some of what we have experienced during the last couple of days. Yay! Limited writing for the reading impaired!

This is outside the main train station in Lisbon. I keep wondering why these elaborate statues are never erected on new buildings, in the U.S., for instance. They’re very cool, and I would have to think easier to make today than whenever they were crafted before. Of course, maybe I shouldn’t be giving Trump any ideas.

This is the view from our current apartment. The blue skies finally gave way to some January rain, which was needed. So we don’t mind, as long as it doesn’t last for too long. We brought just enough of Oregon along with us already, thank you.

This is a rooftop pool on top of a condo building with a view toward the hills in Sesimbra. We’ve decided the apartment/condo life isn’t for us, but we still had some of these properties on the appointment list. They’re nice, and feature awesome views, but it’s just not a lifestyle either of us have ever practiced, just like Buddhism or Plushophilia.

More views from the Sesimbra condos. We were sorely tempted because I don’t think we’d ever get tired of the views, but a house is the home for us.

Carolyn walking through one of the condos.

Here’s another set of condos outside the downtown/cliff area of Sesimbra. They’re new, and look nice, with a great view toward Lisbon. We got a kick out of our Portuguese real estate agent, who is a real sweetheart but whose English is at about 90%. She kept calling these places “condoms.” As a result, we preferred looking at new ones.

We stopped for lunch at a fresh fish restaurant. Caught right off the pier across the street. Portuguese cuisine is really growing on us (and might just make us grow horizontally as well), although I like fish better than Carolyn.

Carolyn demands action from our “transition helper” (I’m not sure what title she would pick, but that’s what she’s doing for us). Her name is Erika and she has been invaluable with helping us navigate the move. While she’s only spent a few weeks of her life traveling in the U.S., her English is near-perfect, and her understanding of our idioms and cultural stuff is spot on. She even gets all of my bad jokes!

This is a view of three directions while standing in the same place in downtown Sesimbra.

About five or ten minutes from one house we really like stands this lighthouse, and beyond it, the Atlantic ocean.  We’re jazzed about the idea of living just minutes from some awesome beaches while still only being about 45 minutes away from an international airport!

This is Cabo Espichel, which is right near the lighthouse. We didn’t go over there because it was raining too hard and, well, we plan on living near here so we’d rather go over during a sunny day. It was still worth a shot from under the umbrella.

Also nearby are some dinosaur fossil tracks. We didn’t get out to see them due to the rain, but I’ll be jazzed to take a look. It is said that local superstition interpreted the trackways as the path taken by the Virgin Mary when riding a giant mule from the ocean and up the cliffs, which led to the eventual construction of a convent there. A giant mule, huh? And what what she doing in Portugal? People are so funny…

Ain’t no giant mule here. Maybe an ass or something, but no mule.

We stopped at a store in Sesimbra. Prices are even better than in Lisbon. That’s 19 cents (100 cents make a Euro, which is close enough to even to a dollar that we just figure it’s about the same) for a container of salt. And those 79 cent price tags? For wine. Okay, it’s boxed wine, but the bottled versions can be had for less than a euro more.

I’d typpue somme tmore but thatt winne is prettyy gud!  %lk

 

 

 

 

This week was mostly spent looking at a variety of homes. After looking at a lot of apartment-type places, we’ve pretty much decided to invoke our American nuclear option and hunt harder for actual houses (or perhaps townhouses) instead. I guess I’m not ready to live in a place where one wrong leap means instant death. 

We have already seen some we could definitely live in, but there are always more to see. What’s also true is that a lot of them are sold before we even get a chance to see them; the market is pretty robust over here. Anyway, house hunting marches on at least through next week. We’re hoping it won’t be much longer than that. We’re not tired of the hunting yet, but obviously we’d love to find our dream love nest and keep moving forward with all this.

We also had to meet with our attorney and apply for our NIF (pronounced “neef”), which is the tax ID we need to do just about anything non-touristy in Portugal. We should have that in a few days.

Portuguese realtors don’t have some of the advantages of their US counterparts. They employ no lockboxes, have no single source (like the MLS) for all properties, they have no open houses, every visit needs to be scheduled with the appropriate realtor, and not much happens on weekends. Our poor realtor has to work a lot harder than they do in the US, at least when looking for houses to buy. She already has pages and pages of contacts and crossed out meetings filling her book just because of us. It’s not an easy job.

So, with the weekend upon us we thought we’d go visit the São Jorge Castle, which is one of Lisbon’s top attractions. As we drove toward it, I looked at Carolyn and said, “Do we really want to go visit a castle that has a great view on such a cloudy day?” It’s been a little difficult to adjust to the fact that we’re sightseeing in a place where we’re going to live. Usually we’re all like, “Let’s go see this, and that, and hurry up! We might have to leave before we can see it!” But we’re retired and living here. We can slow the hell down!

And so we agreed that we could pick any one of the 300 days of the year the sun shines in Lisbon instead of this day’s cloudy offering to see the castle. We decided to just keep driving and head down once again to Sesimbra, where we’re also going on Monday to look at a bunch of homes. We’re very attracted to the area, and so thought it worth some additional scouting about.

But first, here are two images taken within Lisbon. If I don’t throw those on here now, we’ll forget all about them and you’ll never see them again. And then you’ll be like all mad and everything because there was one fewer bridge and statue picture than you felt you deserved for all the money you’ve paid to read this. So get off our back.

Since we already bored you with some Sisembra pictures on a recent post below, we’ll only add one more that we took while four-wheeling it up into the mountains. Here, you get greenery, the beautiful buildings of Sesimbra, and the ocean, all in one shot. They truly have some breathtaking vistas almost everywhere you go.

Once we conquered that territory again, we decided to drive over to Setúbal, which is a city about 40 minutes to the east of Sesimbra. Setúbal used to be a big part of Portugal’s fishing industry, particularly with sardines. Unfortunately, they decided the things were too damn small to mess with, and besides, most people in the world finally figured out they just plain taste bad, so they closed all those factories. However, the port remains vibrant with import/export and other maritime activities.

It was a little more industrial than anything we’ve seen so far, but we took some pictures because, in the end, everything in another country is a little bit interesting, isn’t it?

It was a good day of traveling and sightseeing and just getting to know the whole area better. Thank God for the iPhone, because it means we can just drive and get lost and use the GPS to find our way home whenever we want. However, Portuguese road signs and our ever-growing knowledge of the area allowed us to conduct the entire day’s trip without having to use the GPS at all!

 

 

 

It was another calm and sunny day in Portugal. We decided to explore some more of the Lisbon area. Slowly but surely, we’re gaining a better feel for the lay of the land. As we drove around, essentially getting intentionally lost knowing that our GPS could always get us home. Although it turns out we didn’t even need it at all despite the fact that we were out driving around all day while covering quite a bit of geography. It is, ironically, easier to drive in Portugal than in Ireland, despite the language barrier.

We ended up at a place called Cabo da Roca. (Which translates literally to: “Don’t drive your taxi over my Almond Roca.”) Cabo da Roca is the westernmost point of all of Europe (and all of Eurasia for that matter).

It’s a nice place for tourists to hang out to see the ocean and some of the beautiful cliffs. Unfortunately, that also means it’s a great place for pickpockets.

Carolyn overheard a tour guide telling her group to be wary of pickpockets. For some reason, Europe seems to have more pickpockets than the U.S. Maybe if they could buy guns just like in the states they could just start shooting everyone instead, which would reduce the number of pickpockets by turning them into serious felons just like ours. Anyway, shortly after hearing that, we heard a commotion not very far from us and saw a cop, gun drawn, corralling two scofflaws. I gotta tell ya, the Portuguese cops don’t pull any punches. The crooks had no discernible weapons, but that didn’t stop him from getting very serious with his pistol. As he led them away, he also pulled out his collapsible billy club and kept lifting it above his head, ready to beat them silly should they give him any guff.

I only took one picture because as soon after I snapped this one, the cop began looking around the crowd with something less than a happy face, and you know, when you see a gun, you really don’t want to irritate the gun holder in any way.

So that added a bit of fun to what was otherwise a picturesque view of the furthest west we can get on this mainland. While standing on land anyway.

And yeah, okay, the headline is slightly misleading because there wasn’t any actual shooting. I was channeling either the dishonest liberal media or a Trump tweet; pick one depending on which side of the aisle you’re on.

These cliffs and views reminded us a bit of the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, which, if you scroll down continuously for about 12 minutes, you’ll see in a previous blog post. The Cliffs of Moher were more impressive, but they definitely featured a lot less gunplay than Portugal’s version.

Last year, our visit to Portugal was specifically intended to help us figure out if we would want to move to Portugal, so we didn’t do much sightseeing. We checked out prices at the grocery and other stores, wandered throughout Lisbon just to get a vibe of the place, visited Cascais as a possible nesting place, and hired a couple of people to help us with the move.

Since it doesn’t appear that they do as much house shopping on the weekends as we do in the US (and apparently they don’t do open houses at all), during our house-hunting phase we will experience what it’s like to do something different on a weekend again. One of the main things we’ve learned about being retired is that you often have no idea what day it is, nor is there any reason to care. Now we’ll have to a little bit.

You’ve probably never heard of Sesimbra (pronounced SezzEEmbra, with a rolling ‘r’). It’s a seaside town of about 50,000 people, certainly a lot more than that on weekends or during the holidays or summer. It’s a popular destination for many Lisbions (okay, I know that’s not the official word, but I like it) as a holiday spot. It’s only about 30 minutes south of Lisbon, although it doesn’t look that way on a map. But in fact, Cascais is also 30 minutes away from the center of Lisbon; it just doesn’t seem as far away as Sesimbra because the metropolis sprawls from Lisbon through and past Cascais without interruption.

To get to Sesimbra, you have to go over the 27th largest suspension bridge in the world, called Ponte 25 de Abril, or the 25th of April Bridge. We’ve noticed that the Portuguese name their streets not only after a lot of people, but also they use dates. The 25th of April moniker commemorates the Carnation Revolution, which is very similar to the War of the Roses. Or maybe it was just over spilt milk. Okay, it really was when a military coup overthrew the regime of Estado Novo, which was a fascist regime described in Wikipedia as: Opposed to communism, socialism, anarchism, liberalism and anti-colonialism, the regime was corporatist, conservative, and nationalist in nature… If that sounds in any way familiar to some of today’s politics, congratulations, you’re paying attention!

Anyway, standing guard over the bridge is a Christ the King statue, which was modeled after the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro.

After a 20 minute drive through a sparse forest, you reach the outskirts of Sesimbra. Outside of town and up on the highest point is Castelo de Sesimbra, also known as Castelo dos Mouros. It’s a sleepy little national monument, but it reminded us of all the castles we saw while in Ireland and England last year. We like castles.

Once again, the below pictures illustrate Portugal’s laissez-faire attitude toward safety. The stairs and ledges pictured are open for all to walk upon, but they don’t bother with adding railings or the like. I kind of like that approach; it only helps to thin the herd. Of course, it was only about a 20-foot drop, so maybe it only thins the herd by breaking limbs, making it easier for the lions to catch them. We just need more lions.

There is a small church on the grounds. Inside the church is covered with Portuguese tile, which is beautiful and seems very durable.

A dolphin and a mermaid stand guard at the entrance of the church, one symbolizing the beauty of nature and the other about the importance of keeping abreast of the news. I’m not sure which is which. Although I believe the mermaid’s name was Sesim. Someone hid a piece of her clothing near the beach, which is how the town got its name.

As you might imagine, standing on top of the tallest hill in the area affords some spectacular views. And when it comes to looking at Sesimbra, it can be nothing but spectacular; it’s a beautiful town. It reminded me of the pictures I’ve seen of seaside towns in Greece.

After driving into town and navigating through a labyrinth of narrow one-way streets, we enjoyed a nice stroll along the beachfront. It was a comparatively balmy 60 degrees (vs. the low 40’s in our homeland). The forecast calls for pretty much nothing but 60 degree weather for the next week or two. We can get used to that in January.

The beachfront is bordered by lots of little shops and restaurants. Being the estupido Americans that we are, we ordered hamburgers. However, there wasn’t much in the way of identifiable Portuguese cuisine in their other offerings, and we were hungry, so there you go. But the funny thing was it appears that the Portuguese misunderstood the word hamburger when they came up with their version (although I have to admit it actually makes more sense). They put ham on the burger. Maybe it’s the Americans who took the ham away, although that’s hard to imagine since we’re so good at dumping food on top of food on top of more food. But it may also be because we were told Portuguese beef isn’t the greatest. Indeed, the hamburger meat itself was rather bland. Oh well; Carolyn and I don’t eat much beef anyway.

After walking around town a bit and checking out property values, there’s a chance we could end up landing in Sesimbra. It’s a laid back, friendly town, with spectacular views of the Atlantic almost no matter where you go. This is the view of Morocco from the beach. Okay, you can’t actually see it, but that’s what you’d run into if you started paddling.

We have to research further as to the pros and cons of living in a town that is heavily touristed. It also looks like there are few expats who move here, which is no problem for us. We’d just as soon get cozy with Portuguese people, who thus far have been very friendly and helpful. Our experience is that many Portuguese say they speak very little English when asked, but then when they speak it anyway, they’re completely understandable and reasonably fluent. I like that basic humility about them.

And so, the sun set on an absolutely delightful day, leaving us dreaming of living in a place where we can enjoy this kind of scenery day after day. Not a bad location to retire to, wouldn’t you say?

Today we began the search for our residence. Our transition helper and her real estate agent took us to about a half dozen properties. The first five were not quite what we were looking for. Since Lisbon is so old, much of the housing reflects that. Any construction prior to, say, 2000, tends to be somewhat cramped and certainly lacking in the amenities we’re used to in the US. Which is fine, we’ll be living in Portugal, which is, as we can tell by the fact that it has a different name, a different country.

The last place we looked at on this first day was closer to what we’re used to: more modern with higher ceilings and wider hallways. On this first go-round, we’re looking at flats or condominiums, which means we’re generally looking at living in a place where one false move can mean instant death. The Portuguese are clearly not as concerned with safety issues as we are in the US. I’m not a big fan of heights, especially when the railings are below my waist. As I stand next to that kind of railing and look down, I can almost hear the sirens calling from below: “Jump! C’mon, it’ll be interesting! Just climb over the railing and see what it’s like!” Obviously, I’m not going to jump, but it’s disconcerting nonetheless. Our hosts gave me some strange looks as I staggered around the balcony with my hands over my ears, shouting “Shut up! Shut up!”

I rarely get drunk, and certainly not drunk enough to stand by a railing ready to topple over it, but I just can’t get it out of my mind that if I was too drunk and stumbled next to it or bent over too far, or someone pushed me (accidentally or otherwise), that the place in which I live could also be the place of my accidental death. It’s not actually a fear of heights as much as a combination of a fear of falling and a vivid imagination. I can just hear the wind whistling past my ears as the ground rushes up to greet my helpless body. It’s a weird feeling, and nothing I want to live with every day.

One of the places was on about the sixth or eighth or one hundred and tenth (same difference) floor, and even the windows in the kids room (!) opened right up to… air, and a long drop to a permanent sleep. When we asked our hosts about it they just shrugged. Portuguese kids are smart enough not to fall out I guess. I’m not sure some American kids are as smart as that. If we bought a house with such a window and our grandkids visited, we’d probably tie a rope around them and affix it to the middle of the home.

Obviously, living in a high rise is something I’m not used to. Chances are, we’ll have to get used to it because housing around Lisbon tends to be mostly high rises. We’re not overly keen on owning a house with a yard, etc. We don’t want to spend much time caring for one, especially if we’re traveling.

The day wasn’t a complete loss, however, because while we didn’t find our personal Shangri-La as yet, we did finally sample some genuine Portuguese cuisine!

While frozen pizza and store bought burritos are clearly universal in their appeal, we are way behind the curve when it comes to eating Portuguese. People who ask us about Portugal seem more curious about the food than anything, and we’ve never had a good answer.

We went to small Portuguese restaurant for lunch, so authentic that the menu was available only in Portuguese. Fortunately, we were with two Portuguese speakers, so we received a thorough translation of all the offerings.

One dish was called “Açorda” (The ç in Portuguese is pronounced like a “z”), which is made from bread and milk and assorted spices, and in our case supplemented with shrimp. It was one of the favorites of our two Portuguese friends. To our pallet, it was slightly bland; it could’ve used a little more flavor. It was plenty tasty to be sure, even if it looked like mushy porridge. I might’ve liked it better with some pork or meatballs or even chopped up hot dogs, but apparently they only put seafood in it: mostly shrimp, but often with no meat at all.

We also ordered a pork dish, which appeared to be about the size of a quarter of a pig. It was huge, but the meat rolled off the bone like pulled pork. Delicioso! We then sampled a variety of desserts, which of course were all great because they were, well, desserts.

So we finally took the lid off Portuguese cuisine, and found it to be very good.

We will clearly have no issues with Portuguese food; of course this is based on a total of one restaurant so far. At least from our single sampling, we found that it wasn’t particularly exotic or excessively spicy; they generally seem to offer a good variety of dishes and meats and so on. They also love cheese, which is fine by us.

As to the house hunting, we have to content ourselves with a combination of being eager to get it done, and the patience to find just the right housing. It’s a big city, and property values are on the rise, so it’ll be an interesting dance. We’ll hold out for the perfect place (and price) as long as we can; if that fails, we’ll settle for plan B, or maybe Plan C, which will include a rope for the grandkids.

(I call Carolyn a hummingbird because she’s always flitting about with as much energy as one. If she were an animal, she’d either be a hummingbird or a squirrel.)

Prior to our departure, we were often asked if were excited to be going to Portugal. Both of us had pretty much the same reaction: sure, but we were really just more ready than anything. The lead-up to the flight had us busy for months: selling the house, getting everything in it sold, staying at my sister Lynne’s house (with much, much gratitude for putting up with us for months), seeing and saying goodbye to everyone, packing, canceling things like insurance, and so on and so forth and so on.

But mostly, we felt like we were in limbo: homeless, without roots, waiting for our long flight and new adventure.

They say it feels like time moves ever faster and faster. I dispute that notion: it only moves faster in hindsight. I figure that’s because your memory compresses even a full year into an easy-to-digest matter of seconds. When you’re looking ahead, it crawls just like it did when you were a kid waiting for a trip to Disneyland. To us, it seemed like a long time between retirement and trip, so we were simply ready.

The 9-1/2 hour plane ride from Portland to Amsterdam was uneventful. Neither of us slept much; I ended up watching three movies, Carolyn two. At one point I was finally able to doze off, only to be awoken by a very loud-voiced knucklehead standing in the aisle talking to some babe in the seat across the aisle from me. I almost said something, but in the end decided to throw on my headphones and watch another movie.

After a four hour layover in the Amsterdam Airport Schiphol, we boarded the plane for the 2-1/2 hour flight to Lisbon.

I found it interesting that other than going through security in Portland, we only had to pass one customs checkpoint, which was in Amsterdam when we switched terminals. He was a very nice guy who only checked our passports. After we landed in Lisbon, we picked up our luggage and walked through the “nothing to declare” door (of course, I had to challenge authority by saying, “I do declare Mr. Beauregard!”) (For you non film buffs, that’s a famous line from both Gone with the Wind and the much higher regarded Ace Ventura).

Anyway, the point is that we didn’t have anyone in Portugal even pretend to inspect our luggage (within our view anyway) or otherwise acknowledge our arrival, and our multiple carry-ons were never even looked at by anyone other than the machine in Portland. Going from Amsterdam to Lisbon was no different than flying from state to state in the US.

After exiting the airport, we were delighted to find ourselves in 60 degree weather, especially after the continuous cold snap and snow Portland has been experiencing. We cannot complain about the weather in our new home!

We had rented a small Airbnb flat in Cascais, which is about 30 minutes outside of Lisbon and a prime location for us to buy. 

We got to sleep around 8:00 PM after about 30 hours near-sleeplessness. We decided to make the first day all about getting over jet lag. After a nice long sleep (only bothered a bit by walls that are just too thin for Americans) and a restful day, I think we’ve mostly conquered that, even though traveling from west to east is usually the more difficult transition in regards to jet lag. We woke up about 10:00 AM, reasonably rested, but with few food supplies.

After our visit to Portugal last spring, people often asked us about Portuguese cuisine. To help illustrate our incredible culinary expertise, we can use our first full day in Portugal as a great example. On this first day alone, we have consumed a small frozen pizza, a bag of potato chips, and an apple (we each got half). We might have a banana before we go to bed. So yes, it’s clear that we are able to tout the awesomeness of Portuguese cuisine.

Because the Lisbon area is so hilly, there are many places where you can enjoy a view to die for (literally, if you jump). The first three pictures below are scenes from the rooftop of the building we’re staying in. The next three are the views from our window, which is on the sixth floor. They’re mostly views of Cascais; Lisbon is way off beyond the hills to the left in the very first picture.

I did have to run to our favorite store (so far) in the Lisbon area: Jumbo. It’s a huge Fred Meyer-esque place for all kinds of groceries, home goods, liquor, and electronics, as well as featuring banking, a laundromat, an airplane hangar, a petting zoo, and hula dance lessons. Maybe if we’re lucky we can find an apartment right above it, we’d never want for anything.

But I immediately remembered what a challenge it can be to buy groceries in a country that doesn’t realize everyone in the world should speak english. I utilized my iPhone frequently to translate all sorts of words. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t buying dog meat instead of ham, for instance. Simply going to a grocery store will help us in our quest to understand Portuguese, although I’ll confess that I don’t remember a damn word I learned while in the store. Repetition will be our friend.

I did try to mutter a few of the phrases we’ve “mastered.” I tried out ”deshkoolpa” a few times (“desculpa” means “excuse me”) after I accidentally ran into people, but I’m certain I spoke so quietly no one even heard me butcher that single word. I spoke quietly because when my memory is put to a stress test, I have a hard time pulling out the word. It’s one reason I’m so bad at remembering names. Sitting here writing, for instance, I can remember just about anyone’s name. But when confronted with an introduction, I barely can remember my wife’s (you know, what’s her face). I almost said “Obrigado” after running my cart into someone else, which means “thank you.” “Desculpa” came into my head about two minutes later. Mr. Bean has nothing on me.

I also tried to tell the checkout clerk that I was American (“Eu, uh, es su, ah Americano!”) as I fumbled around with the credit card machine, but I’m pretty sure she inwardly rolled her eyes while thinking, “Well, duh!”

Fortunately, Cascais has a bit of tourism, so the locals there are used to non-Portuguese speakers trying to make their way. When we’re finally fluent in Portuguese in about 2027, our location within the country won’t matter as much. But for the first number of years as we flail about mispronouncing or misusing every word we speak, being around people who are used to being around dummies like us will be an advantage.

Friday we begin looking at flats (Ha! See- I’m already mastering British english!) in an area between Cascais and Lisbon. We have a 90-day deadline to buy two properties before they kick us out of the country, although based on the way we entered it, I’m not even sure the authorities know (or care) we’re here!