In search of my next home in Portugal
As my days in Braga were running short, I was able to enjoy spending time with new friends after all the chaos of the Festival of São João. I began to feel like I was preparing to leave home.
Peace Returns to Braga…Along with a Little PTSD
With Braga’s Festival of São João officially over, I was looking forward to some relief from the incessant drumlines, annoying festival jingles, and loud concerts. All the chaos had almost cut in half the average amount of sleep I got each night according to my Fitbit. Every morning the device had delivered my latest sleep deprivation stats and I had come dangerously close to stomping it into pieces many times.
Finally, it was time to start dismantling the stages built for the event. As I passed one that had been built to host concerts conveniently across the street from my apartment, I noticed some construction workers standing idle. I resisted the urge to yell for them to get back to work.
While the streets were free of jingles and drumlines, sometimes I still thought I heard them which always brought on a wave of sleep-deprived flashbacks. However, as the days passed and the peace held, I relaxed into the easy rhythm that is life in Braga.
North vs. South: The Friendly War
When I first moved to Lisbon, I took a trip to Porto, the largest city in the north. While there, many people I met claimed residents in the north are much nicer than their southern counterparts. While on a tour of the Douro Valley, my guide kept reminding me of this claim. He told everyone on the tour that I was from Lisbon, which according to him was very bad, and took a vote as to whether or not I should be allowed to participate in the next wine tasting. I pointed out that his behavior seemed the opposite of friendly. However, he was quite attractive, and this was just a day tour, so I let him get away with it.
When back in Lisbon, I asked residents their feelings about this “friendly” claim. Most would brush it aside as northern jealousy over Lisbon being the capital, with a few saying there might be some truth in the claim. It was an ongoing argument which I started to refer to as “The Friendly War”.
Despite their claims, I have not found people as friendly in the north. While living in the Alfama neighborhood of Lisbon, I could not walk down the street without getting bombarded by “Bom dias'' in the morning and “Boa tardes” in the afternoon. Everyone was openly friendly as they went about their days.
Here in the north, I can easily spend the entire day walking around town, feeling like a ghost. Even among the locals, there are no “Bom dias!” or “Boa tardes” ringing out in the streets. As I pass people, trying to at least make eye contact, they look at me, emotionless, if not evading my glance. It’s as if they all recently got botox and cannot risk moving their facial muscles.
Bring Back the Bom Dias!
If I am going to consider living in a northern town, I am going to need some “Bom dias” in my daily life. While people are generally nice when you interact with them, they do not greet you on the streets. This needs to change in my humble opinion. It would make already lovely Braga, even better!
To try and correct the bom dia imbalance, I started a personal campaign to “Bring Back the Bom Dias!” The campaign is simple. As I pass people on the street, I look them straight in the eye, give them a big smile and say “Bom dia!” in a forceful but friendly way. In my first attempts, I usually got a bit of a smile and a “Bom dia” in return. Sometimes I got the “Bom dia” but the person looked either extremely unhappy or very confused.
Overall, I think I have the beginnings of something good. Something that could transform the north and fill a critical deficit for them in the “The Friendly War”. I intend to continue my campaign as I travel around the north, hoping to bring these towns more in alignment with the south, bridging the “Bom dia” gap.
Feeling at Home in Braga
One day as we were chatting during halftime of a Euro Champions game, one of my new friends told me that after only a few days in town, he and his wife agreed that Braga felt like home. My first reaction was “What smaltzy, couply crap is that?”. You cannot feel at home after a few days! It takes time to get to know a place, learn its rhythms, and experience its seasons.
However, even during the height of the torture that was this year’s Festival of São João, I also started to feel at home in Braga. I met a diverse group of friends and they all ended up hanging out together. Our group includes a woman from Braga, a guy from England, a couple from America, a guy from Brazil, and of course, yours truly.
I was fortunate to have this group as it made life in Braga more fun than it would have been alone. The British guy and I are desperately trying to learn Portuguese which the Brazilian guy and girl from Braga speak fluently. They provided lessons in exchange for football insights during the games. The American guy plays guitar and does gigs around town which we attended, cheering him on in his newfound hobby.
It was wonderful to have this group of people to spend time with in a town that I was quickly growing fond of. I even had two friends visit from the US. I asked my new local friends to come out and meet them one night, which proved to be fun for all. During the evening, I began to wonder if I was introducing my American friends to my friends in my new home….
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