My Portuguese boyfriend wouldn’t shut up about how Portugal is the best place on Earth.
It’s infuriating – especially since I still haven’t seen for myself how amazing it’s supposed to be.
Even though I’ve been living in Barcelona for the last 3 years, and have been in a relationship with a Portuguese man for the last 2, I have only ever been to Portugal twice.
The first time was in 2016 for a long weekend in Lisbon. But I spent that long weekend hugging the toilet because I unwittingly flew out of Barcelona with a stomach bug that didn’t flip the switch until we landed.
The 2nd time was in 2017 for one of my boyfriend’s best friend’s 30th birthday party in a small town in the middle of Portugal, hidden in between mountains and nowhere. That meant we spent the next 12 hours dancing and drowning in what seemed like unlimited alcohol before we had to fly back home immediately the day after. While the 12-hour, non-stop drinking was fun, it still wasn’t what I would call a proper Portugal experience.
Fast forward to July 2018 – said boyfriend, who from here on out will be referred to as N, finally agreed to do a 2 week Portugal road trip! His only condition was to not go to the places that I kept pointing out on Instagram. Instead, we were going to go see Portugal raw and pure. Also known as places he hasn’t been to either. SOLD!
But first… we, or really just I, needed to go through the ultimate gatekeepers of Portugal. More important than the President. More influential than Beyoncé. The makers or breakers of how this summer holiday would fare. We were going to go to Ansião first to see my boyfriend’s parents.
Best foot, and leg, and arm forward
N’s parents picked us up from the airport on Day 1. From the moment we got off the plane to the exact second he spotted them in the arrivals area, my heart was stuck in my throat and my stomach was in shambles. I might have been just a little bit nervous. This was the first time I was meeting them, even though we’ve been together for nearly 2 years.
I’ve never been good with any of my significant others’ parents, you see. I always got nervous around them and I usually end up blubbering something that, most of the time, ends up being either offensive, sarcastic or (at best) bizarre. And these were Filipino parents. Parents who spoke the same language that I did. Shared the same culture that I had. I have less of an idea interacting with the Portuguese kind.
Before leaving for the trip, I remember talking to my Spanish teacher about it, and the words of wisdom he imparted to me were: to be sickeningly polite and to not mess with his mother’s kitchen (a bit sexist but I’ll take it).
By the time we walked up to them, I was already convinced that they were going to hate me and that I’m going to have to break up with N – because, how is this supposed to work, really?
They hugged me instead.
Who are these people and why are they friendly and nice and nothing like my surly boyfriend who doesn’t talk to strangers?!
They were the exact opposite of what I was expecting!
One minute we were driving down the highway out of the city, the next minute we arrived in Ansião, his hometown, where I was immediately given a tour of their house, and promptly shown where they store the towels, the mini-library, and every baby picture of my boyfriend that his mom had on display.
N’s mom was a bundle of energy. She bounded up and down the stairs instead of just the normal climbing that us normal people do. And there was something pleasant about the way she paid really close attention to you, waiting for you to respond to her stories – brimming with enthusiasm to tell you the next one. The usual anxiety that puts my stomach in knots and makes the muscles in my jaw clench melted away and I found myself responding, not begrudgingly, to her warmth. I was actually smiling – naturally.
N’s dad, on the other hand, was quiet. More like his eldest son whose ways I am more familiar with. While his wife occupied space with every wave of her hand, his movements were deliberate. His smile was small, and he mostly merely nodded in response to any of us. He kind of reminded me of my own dad too – my dad who also just preferred to sit back while my sister, our mom, and I just ran the entire show.
My boyfriend immediately reverted back to his homely ways. Sprawled on the sofa, with a laptop on his belly. And I bounced from one room to another, following his mom around, cheeks hurting from all the smiling and laughing at all the stories about my boyfriend from when he was still wearing diapers to when he apparently almost went PRO playing handball. My boyfriend who is permanently glued to a couch or a bed, was once so athletic he almost did it for a living? My mind was blown.
Do you need anything? What do you want to have for dinner? Do you eat chicken? Is everything good? Do you want some more?
Hospitality usually embarrassed me. I’ve never really known how to respond to it. Half of the time I try not to make so many movements so I wouldn’t be noticed. I didn’t want to be asked if there was anything that could be done for me. I always felt like if I did ask for something, I was actually just being a nuance even though they asked in the first place if I wanted anything. But it was very difficult to do that with my boyfriend’s mom. In fact, it felt like I was letting her down if I didn’t tell her that I would also like some fruit smoothie to go with my dinner.
Can anybody tell me if this is what meeting the parents is really like? Because if yes, I’ve missed out on a whole lot of good shit all these years!
Going Around Ansião
After dinner, I went out with N’s mom to take a walk around the village. I was eager to see the town where my boyfriend grew up and that shaped who he is right now. The streets were pretty much empty except for 1 or 2 stragglers who were still hanging out in bars. It was a Sunday night. And almost the entire population of the village were already in bed.
To the right is where my father, N’s grandfather lived. To the left is where one of his uncles live. You see this bar? This is the village’s first bar. And my father owned it. This bakery has the best pasteis de nata in town.
She knew everything and everybody in the village. What they did. Who owned what. Who made the best which. And this was the only town history that I cared about at that moment.
We stopped in front of an apartment whose windows opened to a balcony. The light inside was on. And then N’s mom was ringing the doorbell, shouting out somebody’s name in mail slot.
And an old woman appeared on the balcony.
I tried to translate all the Portuguese that was going on with my bad Spanish while introductions were made. She was her mom. I was meeting N’s grandmother! At 11 at night. We must have woken her up!
We didn’t. She was watching the news.
N’s mom explained afterwards.
We waved. Said our goodnight and continued our stroll. Stopping to get some sprigs of lavender for my luggage along the way, just because we could.
Regardless of what impression I was making, although I hope it was hella good, I was having a hell of a time since I got to Portugal. It has only been just a few hours since our plane landed, and our trip still had some days to go.
I was loving Portugal, especially my boyfriend’s Portugal. And I may or may not have started to agree with him about Portugal’s rank in the list of amazing places on the planet – which was best.
My only regret was that I didn’t get to ask them if they were related to a writer named Paolo – the one who wrote The Alchemist. They share the same last name after all.
Ansião and how it’s the most important town in Portugal
It is also important to note that Ansião used to be one of the important roads in Portugal. It was one of the main routes for the kings and queens of ancient times to get from one palace to another.
Under the bridge near the entrance of the town, there’s a tank that used to serve as a bathing spot for Queen Isabel.
Come during the month of August for the town’s fiesta. The entire town spills into the streets while live music and never ending alcohol renders everybody in town sleepless 24/7 the entire week.
Ansião is a short drive from Coimbra, Portugal’s former capital. Book a hotel in Coimbra.
Next up… the actual Roadtrip route.
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