It’s hard to write about your home country (or use words to describe the place where you grew up). It’s a mutual feeling. It brings back so many memories, the wonderful people you’ve met, the moments when you took everything for granted and just wanted to get out of there. At the moment I visit Portugal now and then and I miss it so much for the obvious reasons but mostly because it’s a wonderful country. The only thing that is wrong with living there is its political corruption.
Growing up, I always tended to think outside the box. Since my early teenage years, I always though my opportunities were outside of my small country. I remember listening almost every day about the topic of financial crises, the failure of the measures imposed by our government and how Europe would sink in into an odyssey of unfortunate events; and Portugal would be one of the first countries to deal with this situation. Unfortunately, our pessimism was right, so most of our generation left and some lucky ones stayed (at least until now).
We share “saudade”. It’s more than a feeling, more than missing something or someone, and it can only be understood by someone who knows the Portuguese language in detail. I’m afraid, Portugal will become a “postcard country”, I came up with this expression passing by some local shops, where there are postcards, usually showing amazing sights of south Europe. Every single one of these postcards look like a beautiful destination for tourists. When I look at them, I can’t help but wonder “how did I get here? why the hell did I moved out?!”. It’s a conundrum that all immigrants share with the belief that one day we all be back to work, live and enjoy our promised land.