Moving to Europe?

I recently learned that a geocaching acquaintance, Natalie, is moving soon—in exactly three weeks, in fact—to Portugal. Intrigued, I got in touch, asked if we could meet for lunch. I wanted to hear her story.

Me, I've had Portugal on my mind. No idea why. I've never been there (well, okay, not true: I was there when I was three, but I remember nothing), I haven't even seen many pictures of it, don't know much about it. But everyone I know who's been to Portugal just loves it. So much. And I've been thinking I might want to move there. So I wanted to pick Natalie's brain.

She gave me a bunch of pointers on FB pages to follow, websites to investigate. Logistics.

Our conversation convinced me even more: it's time for a change.

I believe I've convinced David, too. Who, though, tonight wondered, "What about France?" Where, admittedly, we have a tiny bit bigger handle on the language. (Portuguese is hard!) And my niece lives there, so we'd have family somewhat nearby (though I think I'd opt for the south, and she's up near Tours).

It's fun thinking about places we might settle for a year or two. Or forever. We are not getting any younger.

I've got various push factors: increasing traffic (this area has become more congested because of second-home owners moving from the Bay Area down to the “quiet” Peninsula), fears about water availability, a desire for dark skies, expense. And yes, a feeling of, not exactly being bored with this place, but certainly knowing it awfully well. 

And then there's the sickening state of the American polity. #neverreadthecomments #avoidsocialmediaatallcosts I do not recognize this country anymore. Though okay, that's not true. I do recognize the darkness and the hatred—and the fear. It's been with us for decades. Going on centuries. And I deplore it. I was raised to believe my country was better than this, that "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" was meant for us all. But that seems to be a lie. And I'm too tired to take it on anymore.

So. What about a change of pace?

I'd love to get back into exploring mode, of getting to know a new place from scratch. Of learning how to fit in, to cope, to be comfortable. I love the idea of fresh fruits and vegetables and non-industrially farmed meats, not to mention other cuisines. Of new landscapes. New cultural discoveries.

And also, and this may be the biggest thing: I’d love to live in a place that is communal from way way back. That isn’t all about “me me me.” That takes care of its very young, its school-age, its older people, its health-impaired. That doesn't think that being asked to wear a mask for the sake of others is a violation of personal rights. I am so sick of this country in that sense (though there is plenty about this country that I love). 

Portugal currently rates pretty high on the civil liberties/political rights scale (57/60, 39/40)—which the U.S. is sliding downhill on rapidly: 51 and 32, respectively, currently, and trending strongly into the “less free” arena. (These data all from freedomhouse.org, which I haven’t vetted, but they are numbers that I am inclined to accept, as a starting point. Norway, Sweden, and Finland, which are famously socially oriented, are 100% on the FH scale. Portugal is 96%. France, 90%. The U.S., 83%.)

In short, I do not like where this country is heading, where it’s been heading for the last forty years and more. I think I’d like to view it from a safe remove for a while. 

Anyway, it was great chatting with Natalie. And now we know someone in Portugal! 

I’m thinking a springtime visit. A few weeks touring around, checking the place out. Should be fun! And  informative. Assuming Covid lets us. We are living in a brand-new reality…