Onward to Portugal

Onward to Portugal

Arrive two hours early, that should do it.

Flight delay. Flight delay again. And four and a half hours later, I finally climbed aboard the big bird from Bordeaux to Lisbon.

Even though it was dark flying overhead, I already knew.

Lisbon was my happy place.

I could feel the flutters in my chest, see the city lights down below, and watch them reflect against the contours of the land like a living map. It was everything I had imagined it would be.

I was home.

Well, for the next two weeks.

When I arrived, there stood a man with dark eyes and olive skin, greeting me with the warmest smile. He held a sign that read something like “Jackie Prory” or some such version of my name.

I’m guessing it was his Portuguese interpretation of what my name might look like.

He smiled, motioned me forward, and gently guided me in the right direction.

We got into the car and he said, and I quote, “Welcome.”

That was the extent of our English conversation, and honestly, it was enough.

From there, we headed into Lisbon Center, and the magic of Portugal officially began.

Driving Miss Daisy… Portuguese Style

The next four days felt like something along the lines of Driving Miss Daisy… except it was more like Driving Miss Jackie.

(And nothing like it at all.)

Carla, my tour guide, picked me up each morning and brought me through the ins and outs of Portugal, the back streets, the hidden corners, and the “locals only” pathways that you’d never find on your own.

Carla is an incredible Portuguese woman, a true gem, the real McCoy. Born and raised in a local village, she grew up with her mother, father, and brother, and carries the kind of grounded strength that feels both rare and refreshing.

She speaks five languages.

One-on-one, Carla is soft-spoken, but passionate. Yet when she spoke to locals in her native language, I watched a different side of her come alive. She was confident, direct, and unapologetically authentic. Her arms moved with the rhythm of her words, and her eyes stayed fully locked on the person she was speaking with.

It was like watching a performance.

Not theatrical, but natural.

The language itself, the expression, the intensity of communication, it felt like an art form.

That might sound silly, but there was something about it that moved me. It felt like a deep appreciation for humanity, for connection, for community. Maybe that bond comes from the history of Portugal. I don’t know.

But I felt it.

A Note on Community

One thing I’ve noticed is that volunteering opportunities for outsiders seem limited. I’ve been told the mentality here is more about doing good in a quieter, “silo” fashion.

Still, I plan to research further, because giving back always matters to me, no matter where I am.

Day One in Lisbon

Here are a few snapshots from day one exploring Lisbon City Center and the surrounding towns.

Lisbon City Center
(photos below)

Lisbon City Center

Cheers!

jMf