A part of me will always feel like a tourist. An estrangeira. And that’s fine.

Meeting other expats is easy. It’s easy to have fun together, because you all share the dream of moving to another country, and everyone understands each other in English. But building a bridge with locals is something completely different. Different habits, different opinions, a different way of looking at life. Different struggles too; like housing, salaries… things you can never fully understand because you didn’t grow up here. Yet still, I’ve already met so many warm and kind people. Even though my Portuguese is far from perfect. I’m trying.

But I know things could -and maybe should- feel different. Every time my best friends or family are coming to visit, that heart-crushing feeling hits me again. It reminds me of how easy and deep conversations can be. How you respect and trust each other without questioning. How effortless real friendship goes, how warm family feels. Like wrapping yourself in a love blanket. And every time, I’m all in tears again.

Those are the things you simply never, ever get used to. They actually only seem to get harder.

So why not go back to Belgium? Because that’s where we trap ourselves, isn’t it… You don’t leave a country for just one reason, and you don’t go back because you miss just one thing. My day-to-day life is so much better here. I can breathe, I feel healthier, more alive. So close to nature, the ocean. Running free with my dogs without leash, not seeing other people on walks. The smells, the peace and quiet. Even working so many hours in a day at the moment, life still feels way more peaceful then it ever did in Belgium.

And then I remember again why I’m here. How lucky I am to be able to live this life. To not get caught up in all the craziness of the world outside. To have the freedom to choose a slower way of living.

And whenever I feel that heartache, I love doing one thing: I start exploring Portugal like a tourist again. Like I did years ago, when I could only dream of living here. The funny part?Back then, when I actually was a tourist, I tried so hard not to look like one. I wanted to blend in, pretending I belonged here. That’s so ridiculous 🙂 and impossible.

Now I don’t mind anymore. I know I will always look like a tourist, no matter how hard I try. I enjoy looking at this country with fresh eyes, over and over again. I love wandering around without a plan, taking pictures. Finding little places I didn’t know before.

Maybe a part of me will always be a tourist, maybe a part of me will always be an estrangeira. But every single time, I come home feeling grateful. Grateful that I get to call this beautiful place home. Obrigada

This little corner of the internet has become my place to share reality behind moving abroad. The beautiful moments, those difficult ones, and everything in between. @gosto_blog