Let me start by saying that this was not our first rodeo.
By this point, I had moved houses and countries more times than I could count. First on my own in my twenties — fearless, optimistic and possessing far less common sense than I realised at the time — and later as a wife and mother, dragging considerably more luggage, responsibilities and emotional baggage across borders.
So we knew the drill.
The paperwork.
The endless forms.
The sudden panic of waking up and wondering which country you're supposed to be living in next month.
The small disasters that inevitably accompany every relocation.
But this move was different.
We weren't relocating for a job.
There was no family emergency.
No dramatic plot twist.
We simply felt unsettled.
Not unhappy exactly.
Just increasingly aware that something wasn't quite right.
"Most of all, we wanted a different life for our son."
A life with more sunshine, less pressure and the kind of childhood that didn't involve unnecessary stress before reaching double digits.
That was how Portugal quietly found its way onto our radar.
The final push came when we started noticing that school was causing our son genuine anxiety.
Not the normal "I forgot my homework" variety.
The real kind.
The heart-racing, can't-sleep, constantly-worried kind.
The school itself was wonderful. The teachers cared. The principal cared. He had friends. But sometimes even good schools aren't the right fit for a particular child.
And while many of us survived questionable educational experiences, flying chalk and cafeteria food that may or may not have been legally classified as food, I wasn't particularly interested in repeating the same experiment.
So naturally, I did what every modern mother does when faced with a life-changing decision.
I opened Google.
And then I proceeded to spend the next several months researching countries with the intensity of a private investigator working a major criminal case.
One of the advantages of remote work is that geography becomes negotiable. The entire world suddenly feels available.
Which sounds exciting until you realise that researching the entire world is surprisingly time-consuming.
After twenty years of living abroad, I also knew exactly what mattered to me. My priorities had changed dramatically since my twenties.
Back then, my requirements were fairly simple: cheap rent, interesting people, a trendy neighbourhood.
Now? I get genuinely excited about finding a pharmacy that's open twenty-four hours a day. Nothing says middle age quite like developing strong opinions about local healthcare infrastructure.
My non-negotiables looked something like this: a fantastic international school, good healthcare, a Mediterranean climate, a friendly international community, easy access to the beach, reliable infrastructure and services.
The rest were bonuses. Strong Wi-Fi. A good organic shop. Decent coffee. The important things in life.
As it turned out, one country kept appearing at the top of almost every list.
Portugal.
And before long, we found ourselves wondering whether another fresh start might be exactly what we needed.
Next time I'll share how our Portuguese house hunt unfolded and why finding somewhere to rent nearly pushed me over the edge.
— Kasia
Kasia Plattner is a writer, relocator and professional starter-over. Author of The Art of Making Life More Complicated.