Why we got itchy feet and left Amsterdam for Portugal.
Our journey to Portugal began with a question: what would it be like to spend more time in nature?
Living in Amsterdam was getting to be too much for us. The city was an immensely popular tourist destination with no apparent off season and the days were marked by the sounds of hand luggage rolling over the pavement. It had become a city of impermanence and day trippers, of joints and Red Bulls littering the streets. It was painful to watch Amsterdam being hawked to the lowest common denominator, decaying into a Disney-fied Nutella nightmare…
So we planned our escape: we decided to volunteer. While this is the norm for 20-somethings eager to travel the world cheaply and gain experience to bulk up their CVs, we were in our late 40s. We set our sights on Portugal, which we had visited before, because we loved the warmth of the people—once asking directions in Cohimbra, the man we asked couldn't speak English, so he grabbed our hands and lead us across the street to someone who could. It was such a small gesture but it spoke volumes.
We volunteered at several quintas, which is Portuguese for farm, and what they all had in common was they were ambitious projects requiring a lot of physical work. Most projects were started by couples, hard-working pioneers who held fast to their vision, but it was far too much work for two people alone to do.
Volunteering meant doing things like: sanding and painting buildings, weeding, knocking over dead trees, planting and pruning trees, gathering olives, cooking for groups, doing endless dishes and mostly, being outside exposed to the elements doing whatever was needed that season.
Dennis immediately knew this life was for him. He jumped in and couldn’t move to Portugal fast enough. I was slower, afraid I wouldn’t like being in the countryside long-term as there were fewer distractions (entertainment, shopping, restaurants!) and I struggled with the idea that my nights might be spent doing nothing much before going to bed at 9pm. Basically, I mourned the loss of convenience and comfort (hot showers, expensive body gels, having a wide range of vegetarian products at my fingertips, and regular WiFi), but quickly discovered those desires were superficial. If not addictions.
The effect of spending more time in nature was subtle. I didn’t notice at first. It’s a sort of shedding process—of sloughing off layers of worry, stress, and the need to constantly navigate busy spaces and agendas. City life demands being mental. This often leads us to trying to control situations or people as if they are game pieces, nudging them to deliver so we can pack in more pleasurable stuff. But nature unfolds slowly and organically. It teaches you patience, like a poet pondering the tiniest of details.
I began to love eating from abundant gardens, swimming in rivers full of pristine mountain water, and walking through the hilly countryside under the unforgiving sun, picking figs, grapes, oranges, and walnuts along the way. Life was simple, easy to enjoy.
Then we started volunteering at the retreat centre Gravito, near Pedrogoa Grande, which quickly felt like home. Its owners Shobha and Miguel have a magnificent vision of reforesting and creating greater biodiversity, as well as welcoming people from all walks of life. They were infinitely kind and open to whatever life throws on their path, making us want to explore the area further. We started entertaining the idea that maybe, just maybe, we could find the right house and live here.
“An incredible expat community has started rooting itself here like a hearty mycelium, spreading gradually and regenerating whatever it touches.”
Central Portugal is picturesque and charming, with half-empty villages—what you see are the embers of a bygone age, the ashes of the disappearing past. Because so many Portuguese abandoned their villages for the cities, the countryside is nearly empty. And now up for sale. This has attracted people from all over Europe, but not as tourists, they come here to live. There are poor optimists, city folk tired of the rat race, and digital nomads with the savvy for creating and sparking community wherever they go. An incredible expat community (Germans, Dutch, French, Israeli, American, British, Austrian, Irish) has started rooting itself here like a hearty mycelium, spreading gradually and regenerating whatever it touches.
We returned to Amsterdam for work and suddenly, there were lockdowns and collective panic, so we redoubled our efforts to get back to Portugal and look for a house, though everything we tried fell through. After yet another lockdown, constantly looking online watching one property after the next being sold, we drove to Portugal in May 2021. Two weeks later, we bought our casinha, overjoyed with our good luck. It was the first time ever Dennis and I owned a property and it felt like the house was looking for us as much as we were looking for it. Somehow, we recognized each other. We fell in love with the valley, with the playful terraces following the curves of the hill, and the magic water flowing throughout.
And that, dear friends, is the beginning of our story.
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