It’s a humbling experience to wait in the SEF Immigration office, in Porto, surrounded by dozens of people seeking immigration status for one reason or the other.  There are stories to be told.  Stories of personal choices, such as ours, and stories of trying to gain or maintain work or student visas, or perhaps even desperate stories of life saving pursuits of residency.  It’s humbling to have choices knowing that so many do not.

Have you ever thought about which is the lesser of two evils… the red-eye flight on which you spend 7 – 8 hours painfully exhausted but unable to sleep, or is it less evil to be wide awake and giving up an entire day to fly across the Atlantic Ocean or to some other long-distance destination?

We launched One Road at a Time on October 14, 2012 and as the calendar pages keep turning, we find ourselves approaching six years live and taking a few minutes to commemorate and reflect on the roads well-traveled.

The first time we entered Casa Natal, I could hardly contain my enthusiasm.  Of course, not wanting to embarrass myself I kept my glee in check, but oh… in my head a party was going on.

Our relationship with the City of Porto began in 2010 when Abi and our son took a Port wine – vinho do Porto – tour of the Douro Valley and it’s when they first met Andreia and were introduced to the Kopke Port Cellar.

This is a tale of how we fell under the charms of the City of Porto, and how we found our way to one of the best wine shops in Porto, Garrafeira do Carmo.

Once upon a time (because all good stories start with these four words) two Portuguese residency permits found their way to the United States, here’s their tale.

One of the best aspects of living in another country is getting to know the locals.  Spending three months living in Porto afforded us days upon days of just aimlessly wandering the city. They were days of pure bliss. We used to laugh that we could find our way to anywhere in the city but couldn’t name more than one or two streets.  And, we could always find our way to the Bolhao Market.

It’s almost comical how much you forget when you leave your home country for an extended time.  Upon re-entry the effects of reverse culture shock are just that… a shock!

It seemed as if our flight was never going to leave Porto as we waited – and waited – to board the airplane.  Scheduled to leave at 11:30 a.m. we saw the flight crew board the plane at 10:50 a.m. and we knew there was no way.  And, 30 minutes later we were still waiting.  Finally, we taxied down the runway at 12:30 p.m. and off we flew toward the United States.  We were heading home, ahead of schedule, but for a very good reason.