One year in Portugal

The question I’m most frequently asked when meeting someone new is “So, how do you like living in Portugal?”. It’s also something I’m repeatedly asked when I visit my Polish home or friends in the UK, and despite my efforts to give as exhaustive answer as possible (for it really isn’t a matter of a simple “yeah it’s great” or “nah, not especially”), I usually don’t have the possibility to embrace the great scope of things that shape my life here. That’s why I’ve decided to write a blog post, hoping that not only will it satisfy the curiosity of people interested in my experience of Portugal, but that it will perhaps be useful to those debating whether to move to this country.

I arrived at Lisbon Portela airport exactly one year ago, on 13^th June 2017. While a year is not nearly enough to get to know a foreign culture, it is long enough to make observations and establish how one feels about a lot of things. This post is a very honest and naturally subjective view, written from the perspective of a UK-shaped, Polish-born freelance female artist.

During my year in Portugal, I’ve heard on a number of occasions, often from the Portuguese themselves, that Portugal is the best country in the world. This kind of statement always surprises me, for I don’t think one can say this about any country. For one thing, there is no such thing as perfection, and secondly – it is always a question of one’s needs and expectations. For a digital nomad with substantial savings who enjoys the proximity of sea, surfing and hiking, Portugal might indeed be perfect. For someone interested in career options, good healthcare, and a high standard of living, it probably won’t be. For me Portugal is still a fascinating and exotic place where I’m very much an outsider, learning and discovering a lot of things, and evaluating whether it can become my permanent home.

Arts

As an artist, I care deeply about the arts and culture, and from that point of view, I can say that Portugal is indisputably a fascinating country.

I first fell in love with Portugal upon seeing Wim Wenders “Lisbon Story” film which came out in 1994. Although the mysterious and quiet city portrayed in the film is in many ways long gone, as hordes of tourists are now exploiting its every corner, entertained by fake fado clubs and cheap souvenirs, and the enchanting Alfama has become the home of an aggressive Airbnb business, it is still possible to find this disarming charm in places like the little streets of Mouraria. The beauty oozing from almost every piece of architecture and omnipresent tile works makes life here an aesthetic feast. And then there’s the music. I remember that while watching Wenders’ film I was absolutely enchanted with the voice and persona of Teresa Salgueiro, the singer of Madredeus, a band so unique that it’s impossible to compare it with any other group. I was thrilled to discover that both Madredeus and Teresa are still very much active (though they work separately now). But Madredeus was just an introduction to Portuguese music. Besides numerous fado musicians, both traditional and more avant-garde, there are a few great bands of different genre I particularly like. One of them is Moonspell, a band discovered in my teenage years (which broadly could be described as heavy-metal though it escapes categorisation) which combines great music with poetical lyrics (its frontman, Fernando, is an avid writer). I also love Sinistro, another fantastic music formation known for its heavy riffs, theatrical singing and captivating spectacle (given their rising popularity here and abroad, I count myself lucky to have seen them at a tiny club in the São Paulo district) and Löbo, an instrumental feast of cinematic melodies and hypnotising passages.

Wender’s “Lisbon Story”, besides intriguing and firing my imagination of what Portugal’s capital would be, also introduced me to the concept of saudade, a vital part of the Portuguese culture. As a stereotypical artist prone to nostalgia and mild neurosis, I was pleased to find myself in the culture with so much acceptance and appreciation of melancholia and sadness. I used to think that the Mediterranea