Eventually, exhausted, slightly traumatised and no longer entirely capable of making rational decisions, we said yes to a brand-new concrete cube in a secure condominium.
It had all the personality of a filing cabinet, but it was modern, compact, dog-friendly (important when you travel with three furry lunatics), and came with a playground, tennis court and even a small forest.
In other words, paradise for our son and the dogs.
The only minor detail was that we had never actually seen it in person. By the time we could fly over for a viewing, it would almost certainly have been gone. The Portuguese rental market waits for nobody. So we rented it after an online viewing.
"Risky? Absolutely. But I've had worse blind dates."
We arrived in Portugal immediately after a once-in-a-decade storm called Depressão Martinha, which sounds less like a weather event and more like a dramatic Portuguese soap opera character.
The country looked as though it had been through a small apocalypse. Trees were down. Roads were flooded. Fences had collapsed. Entire streets were in darkness. Welcome to Portugal.
Fortunately, our concrete cube was still standing. Our son took one look at the playground and sprinted towards it with pure joy while we stood there feeling the first hint of relief we'd experienced in weeks.
For the first time since deciding to move, it felt like we might actually be okay.
The funny thing is that we had left behind a beautiful house that we owned in order to rent a soulless concrete box. And yet, despite all my complaints, it worked. It was warm. It was safe. It was manageable. Most importantly, our son was happy.
The kitchen, however, appeared to have been designed by someone who hated cooking and possibly humans in general. The dishwasher is so small that loading it requires advanced problem-solving skills, and my permanently bruised shins can confirm that I still miss my spacious kitchen.
But that's the thing about starting over. Sometimes you leave behind comfort, certainty and houses you love in exchange for a chance at something new. A different lifestyle. A different future. A different version of yourself.
So here we are, living the dream one stubbed toe at a time. Next time I'll share some of the surprises we've discovered since moving into our Portuguese condominium, including what it's really like living with three dogs, a curious child and several hundred neighbours who seem to know each other's business.
— Kasia
Kasia Plattner is a writer, relocator and professional starter-over. Author of The Art of Making Life More Complicated.