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Departure Check List

x  Gather required documents

x  Donate, sell, or pitch EVERYTHING (almost) 

x  Obtain residency visa 

x  Say “Goodbye” to family, friends, places, and everything that means home 

The list is short, but its impact is huge. People have referred to the process we’ve recently completed as “downsizing.” The tonnage of stuff donated to Goodwill makes that term seem inadequate. After 44 years of marriage, our material possessions fit into four suitcases and two carry-on bags. For the first time ever, we don’t own a car. It’s simultaneously freeing and frightening.

We leave in three days. Both of us are awed by the kindness our friends have shown to get us to this point.  Pam and Jim hosted a big Thanksgiving feast for the Darcy family after our estate sale left us with no chairs, pots, or silverware. Debbie and Art opened their beautiful home to us after we left our apartment. From there we were able to pass 10 hectic days of final errands without a worry. Mike and Frieda gave us unlimited use of their car during our transition. Wendy, Lisa, and Neal provided professional cleaning of our apartment after we moved out. Bobbie graciously agreed to manage our mail when we leave. Countless friends have feted us and sent us on our way with hearts overflowing. In spite of being on the brink of fulfilling a life-long dream of living overseas, we are sad to go.

Just when we were cocky enough to believe we’d mastered the whole downsizing thing, we were hit with a $75 fee at the Cincinnati airport for one overweight bag! We vowed we’d never do that again!

After a delightful dinner in Boston with Dennis, Carolyn, and Patrick Darcy, we returned to our hotel room to jettison more stuff. Our goal was to shed 13 pounds. The housekeeping staff must have thought we were quite absent minded when they found all the loot we left behind! Boots, shoes,  a lovely sampling of expensive lotions, creams, and scarves, and some household trinkets. 

Success! When we weighed our herd of suitcases at Logan airport,  all of them were a few ounces underweight! I’m proud to announce we’ve learned our first lesson of this adventure:  It’s better to invest in feather weight luggage than to throw money away on the hefty stuff.

With overnight flights, lost hours, and the onslaught of new sights, sounds, and emotions, I scarcely know what day it is. I do know I must get into the habit of writing the date in the European format of day first, followed by the month and year. It’s such a simple thing, but one I have to stop and think about. That’s the new story of our lives.

Since I last had a computer connection, I’ve seen and thought so much that was new to me. Tim and I spent several hours in the international terminal of Logan airport in Boston on Monday. What a great opportunity for people watching! Generally, it seems that most of the world’s population tends to be a little shorter, certainly darker, and much less gray than I am! Such beautiful people from all over the world. We rarely heard English that whole day.

On our flight from Paris to Lisbon, the announcements were made in French, Portuguese, and English. I felt sorry for the Asian tourists traveling with us, but perhaps they were fluent in one of the three languages. We were met at the airport by a kind and helpful Senhor Ferreria who drove us to our new home in Setubal. We each spoke a matched set of words from the other person’s language. That is “good morning,” (bom dia) and “thank you” (obrigada). Being freed from conversation on the 40 minute ride, we could drink in all the sights from the car window.

The speck of Portugal we’ve seen is charming. The city of Lisbon (Lisboa) is wrapped on two sides by the big Tagus River. Exactly where that river meets the Atlantic is mostly indiscernible to me, but the whole area has a decidedly coastal vibe. On the far end of a very long bridge that connects Lisbon to the Setubal district, we passed beautiful marshes that gave way to fertile farmland. I saw all kinds of trees – from pines to palms – but I believe most of what I saw were olive groves. It seems as though all the occupied homes are stucco, painted in cheery pastel shades. We also noticed a peppering of ancient ruins of stone or brick barns and farmhouses.

Along the drive, I discovered that I’d been rendered functionally illiterate. How humbling not to speak or read more than five words of a language! We are completely dependent on the kindness of strangers. I’ve heard from countless sources, and seen for myself, that the Portuguese people are very friendly and welcoming to foreigners.  I wonder what reputation Americans have in that category.

There’s more to tell about our new hometown and the apartment we’ll be occupying for four months, but we must begin the task of settling in. Tim and I will be venturing outside our door today to find food and necessities. Wish us luck!

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Since my last post, Tim and I have been pushing the boundaries of our experiences a tiny bit each day. Yesterday, in the mistaken belief that we had to register in person with local immigration authorities, we walked to the far side of town to their offices. The trip was much longer than it needed to be as the GPS misguided us up hills, down stairs, and through a warren of narrow alleys in ancient neighborhoods. My knees got a workout, but we saw some cool places. A very nice lady at the immigration office said that we merely needed to schedule an appointment online for our residency card interview.  We took a more direct route back home along the busy waterfront, passing upscale hotels and pricey seafood restaurants along the way. I guess that’s the tourist area of our working-class host city.

Back in our neighborhood we arranged to meet some American expats we had spoken with before coming here. It was great to spend an hour or so with Ken and Jo. They seem fully acclimated to life in Portugal after only 14 months here, which gave me a great deal of encouragement that we won’t always feel like aliens.  The pointers they shared will prove invaluable in the coming days and weeks. After our talk with K & J, we walked a little further from home to a large grocery store they’d told us about. We bought as much food as we could carry and went home to cook another meal in. (Mom would never believe me if I told her that!) At Jo’s brilliant suggestion, we will buy a handy little pull-cart to tote groceries at our earliest opportunity. I never would have believed I’d be scoping out other pedestrians today as they passed by with their handy folding carts. I’ve got my eye on a sweet tri-wheeled design that can climb stairs!

Tim made our immigration interview appointments online last evening. May 29 were the first available ones! I guarantee, we’ll find a shorter route to the immigration office next time.

Today we made our first local train trip to a little place about half way to Lisbon, called Foguetiero. The purpose of the trip was to deliver some items that a young couple had asked us to bring from the States. They have a new baby and wanted matching Christmas pajamas and stockings for their first holiday as a family. The meeting was friendly, but brief, and we headed back to our place for a late lunch. It was fun to see some more of the countryside between here and the capital city. We passed tiny villages filled with houses the color of Easter eggs; saw meadows of lush green sod where horses and sheep grazed; and noticed several backyard vineyards and opulent vegetable gardens (In December!). I was surprised how quickly the cityscape yielded to rural as we pulled out of Setubal.

As I began this post, Tim decided to check out a neighborhood we skirted past a few days ago, but had to abandon to avoid a downpour. He has just returned with a bag of delicious chocolates and some intriguing photos of Old Setubal. Enjoy!

Our lives just got 100% easier. I had told my friend Debbie that we’d been taking photos of signs in store windows and then coming home to look up the words on our translation app. Debbie shared my belief that we were being terribly clever. Forget that. We were just making life harder than it needed to be. Her son and favorite techno-wizard, Perry gave us the key to the kingdom when he told us about an amazing app. The Google Translate app is the closest thing to magic I’ve seen since the time I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus. With this app and your chosen language loaded in, you can simply point your phone at any printed or written word and the phone screen shows you the sign in English. Wait! There’s more! It shows it to you in the same font and colors as the original sign! Harry and Hermione never had it so easy.

And that’s still not all. With this same app, you can speak a sentence into your phone and it repeats it to the person standing next to you in their language! They can answer you in their native tongue, and your phone says it in English!  Hot damn, this is fun! The only teensy problem we have is that Google only has Brazilian Portuguese available, which varies a bit from the European language.  For now, we’ll need to stick to the basics, like using it to order food in a restaurant, or translating cooking instructions, but that’ll help a lot!

Before our world expanded so greatly, we took an expedition to a large shopping mall nearby. It was about a 25-minute walk – mostly uphill – but it was worth the effort. We discovered it contains a multiplex cinema which will help feed my craving for movies. There are the usual mall-type stores of clothing, jewelry, perfumes, and electronics, too. But a major attraction for us was a gigantic store appropriately named Jumbo. It has everything from auto parts to WaterPiks, and was akin to a Target on steroids. Those Americans who believe only the USA has mega-sized stores are clearly mistaken.

We’d been told before we came here that we’d be hard pressed to find peanut butter, except in rare expat-centered gourmet shops. Well, we found Skippy today. It was in tiny jars, about the size of baby food, and was ridiculously expensive. I bought two.  I mean, a gal’s gotta have her PBJ, right? (Tip for anyone coming over to visit us: A jar of Smuckers Natural Peanut Butter would win you the undying gratitude of your hostess.)

After loading up our back pack and a big tote with groceries and miscellaneous items, we headed home. Because the Portuguese seem less inclined to sit, we observed the usual shortage of benches in the huge mall. Consequently, we were on our feet nonstop for over two hours, counting the walk there and back. I can’t recall the last time we exerted ourselves like that, but that’s one of the reasons we think we’ll like our car-free, European lifestyle. (And one reason I love ibuprofen!)

By the way, I saw a very cool system inside the mall. In addition to the regular escalators like we see everywhere in the US, this place had a set of automatic ramps that smoothly and safely transported strollers, wheelchairs, and shopping carts up and down long, gentle slopes. See photo below.

When we first arrived in Portugal our landlady texted us from her winter home in Guinea Bissau that it usually takes two to three weeks for new arrivals to adjust to the new surroundings. At the time, I couldn’t imagine feeling adjusted anywhere near that soon. During this week, we’ve done a lot, learned a bit, and I’m still not feeling adjusted, but I can begin to imagine that someday I will be.

Today was gray and windy and I decided to stay in the apartment. I tidied things up a little, did some laundry, and had a long conversation with our eldest daughter, Lauren. She was feeling especially vulnerable because her medical insurer notified her of a huge rate hike when it was too late to make any changes for 2019. She’s in a financial crunch that she’ll need to find a solution for, and she’s worried. Although we couldn’t have made the situation any better had we still been living in the US, I think our absence magnified her distress. I’m grateful for instant access to our loved ones through free internet phone calls. Still, I blame the rain for making me feel more homesick today. I’m really missing friends and family.

Yesterday, Tim and I spent some time exploring the old town that Tim had passed through earlier this week.  The tangle of streets and pedestrian alleys is ripe with stately buildings in various states of repair, dating from medieval times. At the head of a large open plaza sits a handsome old stucco building painted a regal shade of purple. It is Setubal’s Town Hall. Who wouldn’t fall a little bit in love with a city that paints its ancient town hall purple? I’ve posted pics below of some of my favorite sites in this charming area.

Before we moved here, everything we read mentioned the incredible red tape that permeates every aspect of Portuguese life. What you are about to read is not a complaint; it’s simply proof that all the resources we studied were definitely not lying!

After jumping through the regular hoops that all nations have a right to impose as part of their immigration process, we were issued a visa that allows us to apply for residency in Portugal. (This is different from the tourist visa that is automatically bestowed by virtue of having an American passport.) Among the hoops we navigated in pursuit of our visas were several related to financial worthiness. These were not difficult tasks. We had to show bank records confirming we had a certain minimum amount of cash per person. The required amount is not especially big, and we surpassed it by a little. We had to show we had a per person, guaranteed monthly income equal to the monthly income of an average Portuguese citizen. We met that requirement with plenty to spare. Finally, we had to show proof of pre-paid accommodations for a period of three to six months. Naturally, we also needed to show clean criminal background checks from both the US and Portugal.

In short, we proved that we were law-abiding citizens with solid, albeit modest, financial resources.

We also knew we’d be required to do three “administrative” tasks when we arrived. In no particular order, they are: 1) Schedule an immigration interview to obtain our residency permits, 2) open a Portuguese bank account, and 3) obtain our NIF numbers. The latter seems to be some sort of tax ID that is required to do almost any significant financial transaction in the country. We’ll need the numbers to file our tax returns, lease an apartment, rent a car, etc.

We accomplished task #1 within a couple of days of our arrival, after just a minor hiccup. Then we went to the Bureau of Finance to obtain our NIF number – a process we’d been assured could be accomplished in five minutes. We were turned away. We were told by someone whose English was far better than my Portuguese, but not quite sufficient for the conversation we had, that they could not assign an NIF without proof of where we live in Portugal. We whipped out the signed copy of our lease (in Portuguese). The staff smiled kindly and said that would not do. What we needed was a Portuguese citizen to come to the office with us to testify that we actually resided in our apartment.

The only Portuguese citizen that we know (who also speaks English!) is the guy who works at a neighborhood cafe across the street. He also has the bonus of knowing our landlady whose apartment we currently occupy while she winters in Guinea Bissau. But we felt like we didn’t know him well enough to ask him to close his cafe for whatever time would be needed on a weekday to complete our mission.

We turned to our favorite expat Facebook group to seek guidance. There we met a woman named Sonia who has a business called Expat Solutions. She said she could help. After some discussion with her, she sent us to a local public office that is in the business of providing letters that document a person’s place of residence. Lucky for us, it was a very short walk from our apartment.

We arrived at that office today, armed with passports, visas, lease (in Portuguese), a letter addressed to us at that leased apartment, and Sonia’s phone number in case there were any questions. We met a very friendly clerk who spoke passable English, and showed her Sonia’s text (in Portuguese) about exactly what we needed from her. She understood immediately and began looking through our documents. We had everything we needed to obtain our proof of residency required by the Finance (NIF) office…except for one simple thing. We didn’t have our NIF numbers. Without them, this young lady’s hands were tied.

To summarize, we need a proof of residency to get our NIF and we need our NIF to get the proof of residency.

Sonia, who speaks in heavily accented, rapid-fire English began to explain that what the Finance office staff meant earlier this week was that we would need to bring a financial guarantor with us. This is a Portuguese citizen who will vouch for us financially and is considered by the government to be financially responsible for us for a period of five years! But we just got here! What person in their right mind would commit to that sort of burden for a total stranger? Apparently, there are agents who will do this for a fee. I can only imagine what those fees might be!

We’ve put the whole issue to rest until tonight. That’s when we’ll be attending a social gathering of expats in the Setubal area. We were already looking forward to meeting potential friends and learning from them about where to buy pillows, get our hair cut, find a rental agent, or buy clothes and shoes to fit us. Now, it seems like an act of survival to learn tips for traversing the famous Portuguese bureaucracy! Fingers crossed!

We just completed our most laid back Christmas ever. We started our morning with a couple of the pastries Tim had the forethought to buy on Christmas Eve. (Two “pastel de nata” – the traditional and unbelievably delicious custard tarts in the flakiest crusts possible, which we saved for later, and two gigantic – like the size of elephant feet – delights that seemed to be a generous amount of croissant pastry wrapped around thick globs of rich, dark chocolate. They were sort of fanned out and flattened, and they beg to become a Darcy Christmas tradition.) These four masterpieces totaled 4 euro (slightly less than $5 US! I think that would have been close to the price of just one of the monster chocolatey creations back home.

After our breakfast, we spent a very few minutes opening our stockings, modestly filled with useful and/or delicious things we could find in nearby shops. I am the proud owner of a new cork purse, which is a goal I set when I learned our adopted country produces more cork products than anyone else! I bought Tim a box of dominoes which I found in one of the ubiquitous “Chinese Shops” that pepper our neighborhood. The nice tin they came in boasted in English that it contained instructions for 12 different domino games. It did not. We gave each other a couple weeks worth of chocolate, which should last a day or two. Also included were mutual year-long subscriptions to a language instruction website called Memrise and a Kindle gift card. Tim now also has a neat little lamb skin coin purse to help him function in this coin-driven economy. We learned before we came here that we should always strive to pay folks in coins rather than the paper money most Americans prefer. It helps that coins here come in one and two-euro denominations.

A large part of the day was spent on leisurely pursuits before we headed to a nearby neighborhood for dinner at the home of new friends.

Ken and Jo have been here about 15 months. We met them online before coming over and they were instrumental in helping us find our temporary housing. Since we arrived, they’ve provided a bounty of helpful hints about living in Portugal. Although I’ve seen a minuscule sampling of local housing, I would venture to guess that Ken and Jo’s apartment must be one of the nicest in all of Setubal. It is bright and fresh with spacious rooms and a great kitchen. Perching on the top floor of a modern high-rise, the views are phenomenal. The icing on this cake is the glorious balcony that faces west, offering views of the city, the castle-topped hills, and the serene Setubal Bay, where the Sado River meets the Atlantic Ocean. And then came the sunset. Perfection!

Tim and I thoroughly enjoyed the surroundings, the fantastic meal, and the conversation. We especially liked talking with their charming son Joseph who is visiting over the holidays. It was a gracious ending to a peaceful day.

We’d made a date to place a Viber video call to the family who had gathered for the day at my sister Nancy’s house in Ohio. What a nice time we had making the rounds at the party as everyone passed the iPad from hand to hand. It felt like we were right there in the room! The best part is that we get to call them all again on Saturday as they reconstruct the holiday for our daughter and son-in-law who missed the original festivities due to work. Any time we can spend time with four generations in the same room is a bonus!

We had planned to go to the Finance office today with our translator in tow, in an attempt to get our elusive NIF number. The translator couldn’t make it, so Tim and I took a little stroll to a section of the area I hadn’t seen before. We were in search of a view we’d seen online from a listing for a rental apartment. We narrowed it down to one of two high-rise buildings and think it looks a promising prospect to check out in person.

Tim took another longer walk while I stayed home resting my sad old knees and reading a bit. We put our minimal holiday decorations away in their box until next year, and now we are about to go out in search of pizza.

We recommend Setubal, Portugal for anyone seeking a stress-free holiday. If our apartment search pans out, we could even offer you free accommodations!

We’ve spent some time in the last few days trying to see more, do more, learn more. Tim is the Head Scout as he takes daily walks to increasingly more distant parts of the city. After bringing back news of what he saw, he and I will choose a place to revisit later in the day. This arrangement works well because it gives Tim a chance to stretch those long legs and I have the opportunity to write letters, catch up on news from then US, maybe throw on a load of laundry, while saving my knees and ankles for specific trips.

While much of our exploration involves finding more options for food, we also are familiarizing ourselves with the layout of the city and the various neighborhoods. We’ve learned which ones are hilly, which have views of the sea, the river, or the sunsets. This will be helpful data when we start our apartment search in earnest.

The other day I contacted an American expat couple we’d met at a little gathering the week before. Barbara and Wayne have been here for about 2-1/2 years and Barbara is quite competent in Portuguese. Because they are returning to the States permanently in a few months, we wanted to get to know them better while we had the chance, and learn from their vast knowledge of the area. Barbara invited us to meet them at the little cafe in the park where they were having coffee with their language tutor.

The more time we spend in the park near us, the more impressed we are. Pond and fountain, walking paths, an ice rink, public art, cafes, restaurants, performance spaces all combine to entice the neighbors to come visit. It’s like a micro version of Central Park in New York; surrounding neighborhoods use it as their own back yard, and it’s always bustling with people enjoying all the amenities it offers. The name of this delightful place translates to Garden of Bonfim (That last word being our neighborhood, and pronounced roughly bowng feem.)

We were also impressed with Helena, the Portuguese tutor. Like so many local folks we’ve met, she seems very happy that we’ve chosen to move to Portugal from the US, and she shows that by offering to help us in any way she can. She offered to go to the Finance office on January 2 (when their holiday strike is over) and assist us in obtaining the elusive and vital NIF. At that time, we’ll set up a class schedule to begin our journey into this perplexing language.

After our brief meeting with Helena, Barbara and Wayne invited us to come back to their apartment. Along the way, they pointed out good places to eat, shortcuts through the big soccer stadium, the best public restrooms. The latter is especially helpful for a lifestyle that has us walking everywhere, and consequently taking us away from our home for long stretches of time.

Barbara and Wayne’s place is about a 10–12-minute walk from our current place, still in the flat section of the city/ (A huge plus for bum knees.) It’s on the top floor of a 1980s high-rise with both western and eastern views. It’s a three-bedroom, two-bath unit with two nice balconies and a large galley kitchen. The open floor plan that so many Americans seem to crave, if HGTV is to be believed, is very rare here. Many of these apartments are designed for multi-generational families, so there are doors everywhere to allow for privacy.

We learned that our new friends will vacate by the end of March, which would be nearly perfect timing for us, with our lease running out on April 11. They rented it unfurnished, and have collected a nice, comfortable assortment of furnishings they’ll be leaving behind. As soon as they’ve notified their landlady of their intent to move out, we’ll be able to find out what the new rent will be. Barbara told us they currently pay 490 euros, or about $560, but they know the rent would be higher for us because area rents are rising all over. I think we’d both like to see another apartment or two before making any decisions.

We learned that the following day would be Barbara and Wayne’s wedding anniversary and they invited us to join them for a dinner at their favorite seafood restaurant. The walk there took us through a section of Setubal we’d not explored very much, and Barbara pointed out various points of interest we’ll be sure to visit soon.

The restaurant is on the main coastal road called Luisa Todi (remember the opera singer!) We were greeted by manager Tony, an ebullient host who speaks heavily accented, very enthusiastic English. He resided in the US for many years on a 30-day tourist visa and is a wild golf enthusiast. He was obviously delighted to see regular customers Barbara and Wayne and thrilled they had brought new friends. When he learned we were not just visitors, he became even more enthusiastic. The chef came out from the kitchen, greeted us formally, and gave Barbara & Wayne the friendly double-cheek kiss that is the typical European greeting among friends. Without presenting a menu, he promised to take very good care of us.

Soon, a parade of platters emerged from the kitchen. During the course of our leisurely meal, we consumed mass quantities of perfectly prepared seafood. It started with choco frites, a deceptively named local delicacy of deep fried cuttlefish (from squid family), which having sampled once, I will not need to try again, and continued with clams in a buttery garlic sauce, shrimp, scallops, and other morsels. The meal wrapped up with an entree of large grilled slabs of sea bass and another kind of local white fish. I was especially impressed with a side dish whose name I may never know, but it was described as a savory bread pudding with spinach, coriander and mint. Heaven! I must confess here that I had never eaten many of those foods before, but under the circumstances, I couldn’t have declined to eat them tonight. For the most part, I was very glad I did. That bountiful feast, rounded out with salad, dessert, and wine, came to about the equivalent of $60-some for four people.

This week we also ventured out to a pizza place in our favorite park. It had a fairly extensive menu that went far beyond pizza, and the only word we recognized was tomato. We boldly pointed to two random choices and got pretty lucky. Tim ended up with a yummy ham and mushroom pizza and I had an extremely thin beef steak served with the unlikely sides of rice and french fries. Hey, as long as we have a go-to pizza we can point to, we’ll never starve!

We’re off now to see the visitor center called Casa da Baia, which means House on the Bay, to learn more about this charming city that stands where the Sado River meets the Atlantic.