the hot goddess

Midlife Learning, Yearning, and Love in Portugal

It’s Friday the 13th, another lucky day in the life of an American midlife immigrant living the solo expat life in Portugal. Of course, life here isn’t perfect. No place is, and life doesn’t work that way. This holiday season — my third overseas — offers time to reflect on new learning, lingering yearning, and surprising love in Portugal.

Learning

Learning new things is a given when moving to a foreign country. Learning new things when age and post-menopause conspire to create brain fog, memory loss, and choppy concentration is a challenge even in one’s home country. In a foreign country? This is some next-level shit. Yay me for learning (and remembering!) this new stuff:

  • Dancing. Choreographed dancing with a partner, I mean. Yeah, I can do martini-enabled solo freestyle on a dance floor without a second thought. But dances with names and steps and four feet moving together? Uh, no. However, when your German boyfriend is in a Portuguese performing tango group, and he learned ballroom dancing starting in elementary school in Germany, dance lessons at late-64 become a thing.
  • Learning to let friends go here in a foreign country. Learning there are different types of friends as an immigrant/expat in a new-ish country. I already understood the important difference between the adjective friendly vs. the noun friend. There are friendly people here who have helped me and shown me kindness. There are other folks I thought could be friends, but then incompatibility surfaced. Lesson learned: If I wouldn’t be friends with you in the U.S. I’m not going to be friends with you in another country. Country is different. My personality is not.
Shady or not, there’s no place for drama, negativity, or constant complaining in my good-vibes-only circle.
Period.
  • Measurements. Telling time with a 24-hour clock, aka “Army time.” It’s 15h00 not 3 p.m. Using the metric system for everything. Kilometers not miles. Centimeters not inches. Kilograms not pounds. Celsius not Fahrenheit. Remembering calendar dates are written with the day first, then the month, followed by the year. Food items stamped with 3/12/2024 should be used by December 3 of this year. Not March 12. It’s embarrassing that it’s taken so long to learn to use these automatically in daily life here, but I guess old habits die hard.
  • New language(s). I’m learning German and relearning French, along with Portuguese. It is a comedy of errors and a constant struggle. But I am learning every day. For instance, I had learned that giro is Portuguese for cute and can also be used for nice or cool. So when the bachata and salsa instructor at a recent dance workshop kept yelling “giro, giro!,” I thought I was looking good! I beamed with newfound confidence, and even tried to put more hip action into my sway without throwing out my back or grimacing with the popping sounds of my knees. “I am too cute!,“ I thought. Then I found out giro also means turn. Oh. Oops.
    • More new learning includes how to say I love you in German. Ich lieb dich. I won’t tell you what this looks (and sounds) like to my silly and immature middle-school mind. Suffice it to say that it is also a true statement.
I’ve made WAY more than 985 mistakes this year.

Yearning

I’m not yearning for anything more than or different from what I have now. Is it OK to feel happy, content, and satisfied? Of course, I miss my family and friends in the U.S., but I admit there are also times I’m glad for the ocean between us. Other, random stuff I miss periodically:

  • A separate, vented clothes dryer. OK, yes, I yearn for the days when I could throw in a last-minute load of laundry and have it dried and fluffy and ready to wear, use, or pack in an hour, regardless of the weather.
  • Forced hot air central heating from a high-efficiency furnace. Just because. Not a thing here in Portugal, where “central heating” is something else entirely, and many homes have no heating or insulation.
  • Hefty trash bags. We have Dainty trash bags here, suitable for carrying a load of seven or eight used tissues and maybe one lightly soiled paper towel. They have this long, skinny plastic tail-string thingy hanging from the bottom, and nobody I’ve talked to knows what the hell you’re supposed to do with those.
  • Ziploc bags. Not that ersatz crap. The for-real, bonafide, break-a-nail-trying-to-open-them, travel must-have Ziploc bags. Don’t even, Portugal. Nope. Point U.S.
  • Some proper aluminum foil. Another point to the U.S. for Reynolds Wrap. The stuff sold here is… I don’t know what.
  • Grits. Sigh.
  • Big bottles of barbecue sauce. What is up with the minuscule bottles of sauce in grocery stores here? Pois, temos molho de piri-piri, but my birth country has big-ass bottles of Sweet Baby Ray’s barbecue sauce.
I am not a ray of fucking sunshine when I can’t get a fucking decent-size bottle of BBQ sauce. I need six of these palm-sized baby bottles for my pulled pork.

Love

Not surprisingly, there is much to love about being here, and not just the amazing ocean view. Surprisingly, though, there are some things I love that I didn’t expect.

  • My day. My schedule. My peace. My boundaries. My life. Myself. Everything about living slowly and with my permission to dwell in wonder, awe, and curiosity. You cannot rush here. Portugal  doesn’t do rush. Mosey-ou-menos, baby. I didn’t expect to love this slowness the way I do.
  • Sleepovers. With a romantic partner. I have never been a spend-the-night-together person. Sex? Awesome. And then a to-go bottle of water for the road. I need my space. So imagine my surprise at now enjoying sleepovers. I still need and make sure I get my space, but something has changed. And I… really, really like it. A lot.
Yes! But 3 is good too.
  • Cooking. OK, not love, actually, but I now like-ish cooking. Some stuff. Sometimes. Something about living around all these farms and fresh markets and bakeries. It’s been fun learning to make Portuguese dishes, though I am still all about convenience and shortcuts. Why grate cheese when you can buy a bag of already grated cheese? Same with cutting up vegetables. Please. That’s why containers of pre-cut veggies were invented.

That’s it for now. These are ever-changing lists as I spend more time here. I wonder how learning, longing, and love will develop in 2025.

Thank you for reading! ❤️ May your weekend find you satisfied, content, and doing something you love wherever you choose to be.

The Hot Goddess

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46 comments

  2. I started using the 24hr clock system when I worked part-time in my local hospital during my high school and undergrad days. And I’ve never looked back. It just made so much more sense. Now, as a true Canadian, all my other measurements are a mixed bag: my oven is in Fahrenheit, I tell the outdoor temps in Celsius, my weight and height are pounds and feet/inches, I observe a speed limit in kilometres/hr, I cook using cups and teaspoons but I buy my liquids in litres, etc.!
    Another enjoyable read, Natalie 💕

    Deb

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  4. I’m still giggling about “martini-enabled solo freestyle on a dance floor without a second thought” I know that dance style!

    Love this list – and all the amazing learning — and awe and wonder and love you exude. You just spill over, my friend! Awesome!!

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  7. You’re a great role model for the power of having a growth mindset Natalie. Love it. I suspect that your mindset has helped immensely in learning and getting used to a different country! I found your comments on making friends as an expat interesting. I suspect that would be a tough one for me, thinking that others would be good friends, but then realizing that the lack of common interests, values, etc are important and we just don’t click. Love the idea of slowing down too. You mean we run fast in the US, really? Ha, ha.

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    • Thank you so much for this comment, Brian! Our mindset is everything, and I love how age has defined and expanded mine. I agree about the friends piece. Letting go of any relationship that isn’t a fit for us is tough, but knowing when it’s time and how to do it is an important part of self-care. Wishing you a holiday season of slow and abundant cheer, Brian. 💚

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    • Oh my gosh, Rebecca, yes! With partner dancing and with playing the piano, when I can get out of my head and just go with the flow and feel of the music, I do so much better. The date thing still trips me up on occasion. I don’t know when all this stuff will become automatic for me.
      Happy weekend, my friend ❤️

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      • My heart and my feet know the beat far better than my head does. My partner and I used to dance tango before Eagle was born. We learned to dance close embrace cheek to cheek. That was a lot of fun. Happy Weekend!

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  14. You made me laugh with the “giro” part! I hope you’re enjoying the Bachata and Salsa lessons. I think Bachata is a bit more difficult than Salsa because of the steps and timing. I found that Merengue (not sure if they’re offering that class) is easier with a partner. Awesome post, Natalie!

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