There Were Many Things I Expected When I Moved to Portugal – But Definitely Not This!

And had it not been for the rainy season in Portugal, I might never have discovered it.

As any Portuguese person knows and will tell you (if you give them a chance) – the reasons Americans and other foreigners move here are many.

Two years ago, I had my first ‘meet & greet’ appointment with my general doctor here. After the medical history preliminaries, she looked up at me.

“So, tell me, Kristin,” she said, smiling. “What brings you to Portugal?”

Having (at last count) about 48 reasons, I pondered where to begin.

“The weather?!” she said, when I was too slow to respond.

“Oh, yes, of course,” I said.

“And the food?!” she added, encouraging me with an expectant widening of her eyes.

“Oh, absolutely the food!” I nodded with enthusiasm.

“And it’s a beautiful country, right?” she said, smiling.

“Yes,” I said. “Really beautiful!”

“And you feel so much safer here, right?!” she said, giving me – the American – a knowing look.

As long as I’m not in a car, I thought, but I didn’t say that out loud. Because #Portuguesedrivers. Other than that, yes to all of the above.

And there was another reason, one I wouldn’t discover for another year.

It happened last spring when Central Portugal had a very unusual seven weeks of rain and I nearly thought I would lose my mind. One Cat in the Hat day followed another, as my dog and I, side by side, stared out the windows of our little casa at the soggy farmlands, dripping trees and low hanging, dark gray skies.

Although I had now been here a year, there were still a few boxes in my studio I’d yet to unpack – boxes of unused art supplies I’d brought with me when I moved here.

For as long as I can recall, I have frequented art stores. I love being in them, looking around at all the tools and possibilities of creative expression. Each time, there would be something irresistible to me – paints, a canvas, colored pens, carving tools, clay, marble, sets of watercolors, notepads and special papers.

Each time I bought something new, then squirreled it away in my studio at home where it remained untouched. Even though I had drawn in high school and college, I was worried I would not like the results if I gave any of my treasured art supplies a try. So they sat there and I just admired them from a distance.

And then one day, out of sheer boredom and desperation, I unpacked some of them and finally put pen to paper. I began sketching the scenes of daily life around me. Colorful sketches bloomed on my sketch pad – my farmer neighbor sauntering down the lane, hand on hip and a large crate of freshly picked produce balanced upon her head; the two old men who meet up at the chapel fountain to wash out their old wine bottles; Granny Cabbage, my first friend in the village, petting Kiitos through the rails of our gate; the daily wash hanging from a line strung up on a terrace; Granny Cabbage walking down the dirt road with her crutch to check on her grape vines; my neighbor’s four cats, asleep in the sun on the roof of her blue car.

These simple, colorful moments of daily life in a small Portuguese farming village – this is what has captured my heart and tumbled me in love with my new life here.

Just for grins, I shared some of these sketches on social media.

To my shock and amazement, friends liked them. Then friends of friends. Then complete strangers.

Soon I began getting requests and commissions from America, Poland, Denmark and, of course, Portugal – along with suggestions to make a book of them, which I am now in the process of doing.

These simple, colorful and whimsical little sketches of life here would never have happened had I not moved to Portugal. They are my own ‘voyage of discovery’ in a country that invented that term centuries ago.

The next time I see my doctor, I will be ready with my answer – what I most like about Portugal is how it will surprise you!

[The above illustration of Coimbra of the ‘Village of Santa Clara’ by Kristin was commissioned by Jeanne Langston for her husband, Dante.]