Does This Country Even Like Me?

This week, Portugal proposed new restrictions on immigration—tightening visa requirements, revisiting remote worker policies, and placing sharper scrutiny on those hoping to make this country their home. For many of us who have already made the move, or are in the process of doing so, these changes hit hard. Even if you’re “doing everything right,” it’s jarring to feel like you might no longer be welcome.

And like, I get it. Costs of living have spiked (like everywhere). Jobs are tough to come by (like everywhere). Everyone feels a little hard-done (like everywhere). And it’s really easy to place a lot of blame on the people new to your homeland. 

The only thing you’re really able to do in this moment is reflect on why we move abroad in the first place, and how we choose to live once we get there. You always have to navigate the logistics and emotional challenges of moving to a place like Portugal, but beneath all the spreadsheets and timelines is a much bigger question: what does it mean to belong somewhere new?

It’s easy, and understandable, to be drawn to Portugal by the weather, the slower pace of life, the affordability compared to major American cities. And yes, the beaches. But moving abroad, especially in a way that is meaningful and sustainable, requires a deeper intention than just chasing a cheaper, prettier life. Or European passport. 

Because at some point, there will be headlines like this week’s. There will be bureaucracy. There will be local sentiment you don’t fully understand. There will be moments—at the immigration office, in a landlord’s rejection, or in a neighbor’s wary glance—when it feels like you are not quite wanted. And if you’ve only built your life here on sand, those waves will feel crushing.

That’s why we always think beyond the surface-level appeal of Portugal, or whatever new place you want to put down roots. Why are you really moving? What kind of life are you hoping to build? Who will you be, and how will you show up, in this new place?

Becoming a part of the population

When we moved to Portugal, we made a decision early on: we didn’t want to live outside the culture. We wanted to be a part of it. That meant enrolling our kids in Portuguese school instead of an international one. It meant learning the language, even when it was humbling and frustrating. It meant accepting that we wouldn’t always understand everything, that we’d mess up customs and pronunciations, and that we’d never be 100% fluent in the cultural code.

But it also meant slowly weaving ourselves into the fabric of our town. It meant neighbors ruffling our kids’ hair. It meant the café owner who brings us an imperial of Super Bock before we order. It meant being known, over time.

This is not a story of “earning” our place, but a story of respect. Of showing that we came not just to consume what Portugal has to offer, but to contribute to the life already here.

The immigrant experience isn’t new

It’s also worth remembering that this tension between wanting to build a life somewhere new and being met with resistance is not unique to Americans moving abroad. This is the immigrant experience. And it’s happening in the U.S. every day.

In America, we often treat immigrants as burdens, outsiders, or political pawns. We ask them to prove their worth, to jump through impossible hoops, to assimilate but not too much. And yet many come anyway, for safety, for opportunity, for family, for survival.

So when we feel the sting of being “othered” abroad, it can be an opportunity, not just for frustration, but for empathy. To better understand what it’s like to live somewhere that doesn’t roll out the red carpet for you. To reflect on how we want to show up in our new home country, and how we want to advocate for others who come after us.

Moving with intention

If you're still in the dreaming or planning phase of moving abroad, moments like these can feel scary. You might wonder if it's worth the effort, or if the door is quietly closing. But this is the very moment to return to your why.

Why are you doing this? What kind of life do you want to build for yourself, your family, your neighbors, and your community?

Are you willing to engage with a culture that isn’t your own, with humility and curiosity? Are you open to being the outsider, not for a week or a season, but for years? Can you see this move not just as a personal escape, but as a long-term relationship with all the complexity that entails?

The door isn’t closed

Portugal is changing. All countries do. The rules shift, the policies evolve, and public opinion sways. But that doesn’t mean there’s no room for you. It just means you have to be more thoughtful about how you enter, and what you bring with you.

Moving abroad isn’t about finding a perfect place—it’s about choosing to belong, even in imperfection. It’s about deciding to be a neighbor, not just a visitor. And yes, sometimes it’s about holding the tension of loving a country that doesn’t always love you back.

But that doesn’t mean you don’t stay. Or that it wasn’t worth it.

It means you move with intention. You build with care. And you remember that the hardest parts of this journey are often the ones that shape you most.

Until next time,

Benn (+ Melissa)