Things Happen Slowly in Portugal, but...

During yesterday afternoon’s walk with Kiitos, we passed by Senhora Carvalho’s house, as we often do. Her large house is always well taken care of but she has a special knack for flowers, which pour joyfully and colorfully from the low cement wall that separates her driveway from her house.

When I first moved into the village, one of the first phrases I learned was, que linda! How beautiful. I practiced saying this to her one day while pointing to her flowers. She smiled and told me she would give me some seeds or bulbs from them. (I only understood what she said because I had my phone translation app on at the time.)

That was a year and a half ago, and although I’ve seen her dozens of times since, I had long since given up any expectation this would happen.

And then yesterday, to my surprise, she flagged me down as we walked by, waving a small baggie. The seeds!

When I first moved here, the best advice I received was to modify my American expectations.

“Things often take a long time here in Portugal,” I was told. “But they do eventually happen.”

Senhora Carvalho had remembered and I was thrilled.