Finding Patience As A New Expat in Portugal: It might kill me!

This experience of moving to and living in Portugal has been one that will undoubtedly grow me as a human. To say that I live here still feels weird. You know that feeling when your career is new, and you feel like a bit of a fraud when you tell people what you do? I remember feeling that way when I had only had my first few editing gigs. Saying, "I'm an Editor" felt like an exaggeration I couldn't back up if challenged. How was I to know if I'd ever get work again, or if people even liked my work? It all felt too new and uncertain to make those kinds of claims. Now I'm like, "Damn right I'm an Editor... a dope one!" But I didn't feel that at the start. It is a very similar feeling saying that I live in Portugal. It sounds crazy and feels crazier.

Living here catches me by surprise all the time. It's difficult to wrap your brain around everything being completely different. As an adult in my 40s, I was still always learning new things and growing, but in the context of known entities. I know what the US is like, what California is like, what Los Angeles is like. I am quite familiar with the suburbs, public schools, Whole Foods, and Target. I can navigate banks, the department of water and power, the cable company, and the like. I kinda know what I'm supposed to do about the IRS, payroll, and dumb crap like that. Even the small things like knowing if my kid has a diorama project that Michaels will have what I need. But if fabric is involved, we're gonna have to check out Joann's because Hobby Lobby is off the table! You get the point! I could learn new skills, meet new people, go to new places, but they were all under the umbrella of the familiar. Same language, societal norms, similar sensibilities.

What is tricky about moving to another country is that all that familiarity goes out the window. Everything is new, and language is only a part of it. It's the way people interact with each other, it's social norms, it's the way people joke. From the smallest nuanced things to the most obvious, it's wildly different. For example, grocery stores. You'd assume they would be roughly the same except for things being in a different language. But no! At first glance, not so different, but try to shop! They operate differently, they're organized differently. Think you're gonna find the paper towels in the same aisle as the toilet paper? If you're at Auchan, yes, but at Continente no. Want to get fish from the fish counter, or meat from the butcher counter, or cheese from the cheese counter? Take a number, from the machine that is only in Portuguese. And if you're taking a number for the bread counter, prepare to wait a while. Get comfy and practice what you wanna say on your DeepL translation app while you wait, English is not on the menu. I don't say that with disdain. English shouldn't be on the menu; in fact, I am fortunate that so many people can communicate with me in English. But it doesn't change the fact of how difficult it is when that's not the case, and feeling like a total loser when it is.

This brings me to patience. I'm realizing that patience is so important, but elusive and difficult. Patience is important because a new environment, culture, and life take time. There's an adjustment period, which is not short. Hell, I'm still in it. There are so many new processes, rules, customs, and everyday things you have to learn. And language, of course. The learning curve feels steep and is long. I'm still climbing, nowhere near the peak of that mountain. And patience is hard, for all the same reasons. You just wanna climb the damn mountain and be on the other side already. But there is no shortcut. There is so much to learn and get a handle on, so it is hard to feel out of your depth all the time. Again, still living in that shack-o-misery. Now here comes the controversial statement. I am starting to feel that the elusive nature of patience has very little to do with the circumstances. The elusivity of patience has much more to do with my American-ness. My American sensibilities, culture, and entitlement.

As an American my sensibilities are set to certain expectations. I am used to a certain amount of automation, ease of use, and efficiency. Everyone has a website I can search to find out more. There is usually an FAQ, chat, or number to call. If I send an email or leave a message, I usually get an answer in the same day. This is how I am used to living. So I am programmed to view that way of life as the standard. As an American, I come from a culture that pretty much puts work at the forefront. Coming to work sick was not only customary, but expected until we were all introduced to Covid. Taking sick days or vacation time feels hard, and the fear of having to catch up is imminent. That's if you even get vacation or sick days, which many of us have jobs that don't provide that at all. By nature, the work-life balance weighed heavily toward work. Unless you make a conscious effort to tip it in the other direction, you fall prey to the grind. I am, to greater or lesser degrees, programmed in this way, like it or not. But, there's more. There's a piece that I'm not proud of, but it's true. As an American, I am also incredibly entitled. I would have never said that about myself before. But I honestly am. I am so often dumbfounded by the idea that I can't call ahead to order something or reach anyone on the phone. No one is in a hurry to take my money at a restaurant or respond to my emails. My urgency is of no consequence to anyone but me. And I get really pissed off about it. I'm never rude to anyone. But in honesty, I am often disgusted by the lack of desire by others to jump at my request or quickly serve my needs. This lack of patience and insidious entitlement is causing me to take a hard look at myself. I'm forced to examine the 'work above all' mentality that I didn't realize lived in me. It's forcing me to think about how I want to live. How I want my children to live. What is actually important?

When we first arrived here to Portugal, I had some banking issues that needed to be attended to. Guess what? The branch of my bank that is closest to my apartment was closed for vacation for 3 weeks. I would have to go elsewhere. In fact, I would have to visit several locations. There were branches that were actually only an ATM machine, or one that had closed but were still listed as open. It was infuriating. I was so annoyed. How dare the bank be closed for 3 weeks? Why should I have to wander all over town to find a branch with actual working people?? Don't people have business to conduct here??? But here, most people go on vacation in August, after the tourists start to dissipate. They take the time to be with their families. To unplug. My urgency does not supersede their family time.

After thinking about it more, I was completely ashamed of myself. I respect this cultural difference. In fact, it was one of the draws to moving. I wanted a life that would allow more of a balance and a reordering of priorities. But here I am not even recognizing it in front of my face and railing against it. I am programmed and hardwired this way by my culture and my country. But I want to deprogram. I want to rewire. I want to be patient. Will I ever get used to waiting 17 years for someone to come in my vicinity to drop off the check? No, probably not. Or then waiting an additional millennium for them to bring the card reader so I can actually pay? Likely no! But I can learn to take these things in stride. I can learn to stop and smell the salt air. I can learn to slow down. I can learn that no one is required to satisfy my anxious desires in the timeline I deem reasonable. And I can learn that maybe my anxiousness is not warranted. Maybe things will happen in due time, and I can enjoy the wait.