30 Days / 30 Degrees

and why i picked portugal

glaciers in iceland

There is actually nothing I despise more than a frigid chill in the air or a sunset at 5pm. I am not a winter person—that much is clear. I am solar-powered, and I will always choose a tropical, sticky climate over a bone-chilling, methodical mountain destination. This is coming from someone who traveled around Iceland in a camper van in April. And while that trip will always remain vivid in my memory for its soothing hot springs and otherworldly volcanic landscapes, it wasn’t particularly comfortable. But nor was Tulum in May, getting eaten alive by mosquitos, my feet swelling in my sandals. Still, I would choose the latter.

I like cold showers, refreshing plunges into the sea, and clothes that barely cover my skin. I find tan lines and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of the nose and shoulders sexy. This is a stark difference to how I feel about winter clothing—hats, gloves, big puffy coats that make you look like the Michelin Man. Not exactly easy access. Though, sure, there is something a little adorable about someone in a puffer jacket with flushed, rosy cheeks.

Today is one of those days: 30 degrees in Norman, Oklahoma. If I want to take my dog out, it’s a whole ordeal. First, the dog-hair-covered socks go on (are they Velcro?), then the jeans, then the sweater, then the jacket, then the hat, then we go. My knuckles turn pink in the frosty air as I curse and tell Shep to stop lollygagging, desperate to get back to the toasty, heated house. I daydream of warmer places in the winter a lot. I did this for 18 years growing up before I made my big escape to California. And I do it now as I envision my life in Portugal.

Oh, yeah, that’s right—I’ve finally decided I’m moving to Portugal. And in 30 days, no less. It was a long journey to deciding on Lisbon, and there wasn’t any really big breakthrough or decision process. It just kind of worked out that way, as things often do. It was easier to find a rental, easier to communicate with people in English, and it helps that I have a few people I can easily befriend already living in the city (also working remotely in the travel industry).

I like that it’s a short flight from the US, just across the Atlantic. I like that it’s sunny and warm and aesthetically pleasing to look at, with all the lovely colored tiles and yellow funiculars. I like that it’s an easy flight to see friends in Barcelona, Amsterdam, and Paris. It’s a great place to be social, though still close to nature, and most people speak English so it won’t be too much of a crazy transition while I learn Portuguese. Plenty of green flags—though I’m also aware of the red flags. Immigrants are highly looked down upon, rental prices are insane (because of the influx of foreigners coming in—like me, unfortunately), moldy apartments, bureaucratic nightmares (apparently everything moves very slowly in Portugal). But for now, this is where we’ll start for three months and see if it’s a fit.

I’ve secured a rental in Sintra, just outside of Lisbon between the beach and the mountains. I can walk to the train station in 15 minutes from my house, and then I’ll be in the city in about 40 minutes. I’m right next to a national forest for hikes with Shep, and I’ve already secured a dog sitter because I can never feel stuck (lol), and hopefully I’ll be taking plenty of weekend trips to really get a feel for the whole country. I suppose the goal is to do this all over Europe until I find a spot that just clicks and fits. Kind of like dating, I suppose, and sometimes just like dating, you get it perfectly right the first time. Maybe Portugal will be like that. There’s only one way to find out, and that’s just arriving and winging it from there.

But the next 30 days will see me absolutely losing my fucking mind. Not only am I getting myself ready for a move abroad (packing my whole life down into a suitcase, researching new phone carriers and banks abroad, and looking at long-term rentals), I’m getting my dog ready (crate, vet visits, health certificate, flight regulations). Moving abroad is not an easy thing already, but add a dog into the mix and it’s damn near maddening (and fucking expensive). It’s an eye-watering process that breaks your spirit a bit. All of this in the midst of Christmas and signing on a new editing client. In a full house, with a crying baby, a revolving door, barking dogs. I must be absolutely batshit.

I know once I get there I’ll feel less stressed and a bit more settled, but I’ll also be in a new country with everything that comes along with that—rewiring my brain to a new language, new customs and etiquette, military time and a different metric system and different clothing sizes and even writing the date with the day before the month!! But this, to me, will more than make up for having my own quiet, cozy space. Well…I hope it’s cozy. Portugal is notoriously bad with insulation.

So I just wanted to quickly update where I am: 30 days from departure, in 30-degree weather, planning my escape to more sunny shores. 30 days until 30 degrees becomes just a memory. 30 days until I find out if I’ve chosen right, or if this is just another stop on the way to wherever I’m supposed to be.

But that’s the gift of being solar-powered, ain’t it?—you just keep following the light :)