Those are the Abbotts...They're Moving to Portugal

Jack recalls that we spoke of a shared goal to live abroad on our first date. I can't confirm the exact conversation but it sounds right. I have been afflicted with wanderlust for as long as I can remember. Suffice it to say, an interest in seeing the world is one of the things that bonded us as a couple early on. Throughout our marriage, our limited vacation days and scant disposable income went almost entirely to travel. Although those short trips to places like Mexico, Greece, and Japan were enjoyable, they never quite scratched the itch. We watched enviously as friends with more flexible work schedules and lighter family responsibilities spent months exploring and immersing themselves in exotic locales. Over the years, we hosted exchange students and sent our daughter abroad to study, vicariously experiencing the novelty and wonder, along with the occasional loneliness and frustrations that come with living far from everyone and everything they had ever known. Even when the romantic haze had cleared, the dream to live elsewhere never died. Someday, we always said. 

We vowed to retire while we were still young and healthy enough to actively explore a new culture and lifestyle. We planned to learn the language, try unusual foods, and rely on public transportation and leg power rather than our own cars. We never quite defined when or where these golden years would commence. Of course, it would have to be after our daughter was out of college and when we could afford to live on our investments and savings. And then there was my bachelor dad, who was aging and had chronic health conditions. One of the reasons we moved to Idaho was to be close to him. So, it was a distant dream then. As a destination, southern Europe was high on our list for its slow pace, rich history, diverse landscapes, and less focus on materialism. For me, my family ancestry in Portugal made it especially appealing.

After years of researching possible destinations in a manner that felt more like dreaming, we found ourselves in a new spot in life in the early 2020s. We reluctantly accepted our daughter's choice to attend an out-of-state college, but the premature loss of my dad to kidney disease around the same time came as a shock. Suddenly, life in our 3,500 square foot dream home felt hollow. The house was too quiet without the sounds of kids giggling upstairs or ball games blasting from the living room television. Our family movie nights, Sunday dinners and holiday gatherings were now just bittersweet memories. With time, I came out of my grief fog and started to see new possibilities. As empty-nesters in good health with access to passive income and pensions, could we finally be ready to make the leap into living abroad?

Exploring that idea became my new pastime. I retired from my state government job in 2024 and began filling my new found free time by learning about visa options and connecting with expat and immigrant communities in Europe. Jack and I celebrated our 30^th wedding anniversary with a transatlantic voyage to the Azores and Lisbon. Unlike past vacations, we began talking seriously about what it might be like to actually live there. A few days after returning to Boise, still in the afterglow of the trip, Jack asked me what it would take to move to Portugal. He felt ready. That was the green light I needed to fully dive into the time consuming, expensive, and messy application process that is required to gain passive income visas and move abroad. 

Fast forward a year, and we had taken the scouting trip, chosen our new city, signed a lease on an apartment, and secured the various documents that were required to prove ourselves worthy of temporary residency in Portugal. After a nerve-wracking consulate appointment in San Francisco in April 2025, we returned home to Boise to wait for approval. In the meantime, we purged or packed all of our worldly goods, sought USDA health certifications for our elderly cat and poodle-mix mutt, then obsessively monitored an online visa approval tracker to compare timelines with other hopeful Portugal emigrants. Exactly 80 anxious days later, on the couch of the Airbnb studio apartment where we stayed while our house was readied for renters, we received the coveted email from the consulate. Our visas were approved! We could now proceed directly to our new life.

Less than two weeks later, our carefully curated belongings (mostly sentimental, with some favorite cosmetics and OTC meds) and pets were packed into nine bags and transported to the airport for our 17 hour journey, including two connection flights, from Boise to Porto. At the boarding gate in Denver, the agent was ready for us. “You must be the couple who are traveling with two pets. Oh...you're bringing a dog and a cat? My cat is usually happier to be left at home with some extra food.” When we explained that we were relocating and not vacationing, he responded wistfully that he hoped to do that too...someday. As we drowsily boarded the plane, laden with pet carriers and shoulder bags, I overheard the agent say to his colleague, “Those are the Abbotts. They're moving to Portugal.”

The flight attendants graciously overlooked this blatant violation of airline rules when Julep took a break from her crate during the last leg of our journey.

We were (somewhat) prepared for every imaginable setback but were blessed with a smooth plane trip and arrival. All three flights were on time, the pets stayed relatively calm, the official documents were accepted, and our smiling van driver was waiting in the terminal, ready to help us load our heavy bags and drive us to our partially furnished apartment in Braga. After the 45-minute ride, we freed our exhausted kitty and pup from their crates, then all crashed on an unmade bed for a long nap. We emerged from our apartment just before sunset, dazed but eager to explore our neighborhood, find some locally prepared food, and handle the various tasks necessary to make this beautiful place our new home. Someday has arrived.