The Fine Print of a Dream Relocation
On the less obvious aspects that can make or break your move
A move to another country usually comes with the sense that we will have a few things to work on. The culture will need exploring. The new language will take effort to learn. Daily living will have a rhythm and logic, some of it foreseen and some not. We are committed to doing what is needed, so we can live the life we had imagined: Buying fresh buns at the local market, eating simply, walking more, not feeling rushed.
These steps are manageable in part because they are anticipated. They are the sorts of things people mention in conversation, or we read about in blog posts. They are not trivial, but they do not feel threatening, either. We understand that we have to do them. We may even enjoy doing them. There is something satisfying about learning new habits when they fit the story we have been telling ourselves about the move.
What interests me are the unexpected bits. The ones we had not seen on people’s pro and con lists, that sound almost petty when spoken aloud, yet somehow they have more emotional force than the larger and more obvious steps. The unexpected ones can rub against our identity, or dignity, or sense of competence. They are not dramatic enough to qualify as a crisis, but neither are they trivial once one has to live with them.
Learning the Language
Moving to Portugal meant learning the language. Despite trying textbooks, lessons, small talk with neighbours, progress has been slower than we would like. People here are kind and efficient. We may start a conversation in our beginner’s Portuguese, and before we get far, the other person switches to English. It is understandable and helpful. It just means that conversations get rescued before real stretching can occur.
Once in a while, someone remarks that if we are going to live here, we really should learn Portuguese — and we absolutely agree! It’s just that comments like that can land more heavily than one might expect. They land on top of the effort, frustration, embarrassment, and self-reproach that are already there. We are not refusing the language; we are inching towards it, looking forward one day to engage more fully.
I am not someone who has neglected languages in life. I learned Slovak and Czech at home, that was easy. I mastered English, in part because of my parents’ foresight to get me started early. I have functional German and Russian. I don’t know what’s so maddeningly different about Portuguese, but it is going slowly. Despite that, a part of me is longing for a symbolic nod to our efforts, just to know people know we care.
Social Norms
As I was growing up in Slovakia, my Mom cared a great deal about manners and etiquette. She wanted to raise a gentleman. There were ideas about how a man shows respect to women and older people. Hold the door. Walk on the left. Offer the seat. Carry the bag. Enter the elevator first (if it is not there and you step into sudden death, it is better that the man be the one swallowed by the void). This was the moral architecture of ordinary life, simply what one did if one had been raised properly.
In Canada, the same actions had different meaning. Acts of respect could now read as patronizing, unnecessary, odd. Holding a door open met with discomfort. Offering to carry a bag prompted a reply suggesting that the other person was perfectly capable of carrying it themselves, thank you very much. Kathy, my Canadian wife, found my insistence on trying to place myself on her left while walking needlessly complicated. It was as though I were imposing a mysterious traffic code onto an ordinary stroll.
Even simple daily actions like taking a bus or metro can get unsettling. The world makes little jokes about Canadians being too polite, but I appreciate it when a young person offers their seat to someone older, or to a person travelling with a small child. Curiously, in Portugal, I have yet to observe such behaviour. Instead, seniors carrying bags stand in the middle of the aisle, while youngsters sit glued to their phones, mindlessly scrolling and swiping. Are newcomers like me to challenge such norms?
I don’t know about you, but I find this sort of thing … destabilizing? It is not just about learning different local customs. It is that the behaviours you associate with respect and decency lose their moral clarity. You are no longer simply asking, what do people do here? You are also asking, what counts as respect, care, and equality here? And why are these core human considerations different here from other places?
How do I stay true to myself without burdening others with a script that came from my childhood, my place of origin, my Mom’s watchful eye? No doubt she still quietly notes me not walking on Kathy’s left, not always being the first one at a door to open it, not placing myself between her daughter-in-law and potential elevator death!? Those things matter in her mind, and I understand that: I had been shaped by those same beliefs. And, the same acts may not carry the same weight elsewhere. What now?
The Neighbourhood
Before moving, we had read accounts from newcomers to Portugal complaining about dogs on the loose everywhere, barking incessantly. On our arrival, we were pleased to discover that where we live, dogs have been a non-issue (at least in terms of barking; dog owners not picking up after their dogs is another matter). But the surprise has been street noise. Day and night. Motorcycles revving on even the shortest straight stretch of road as though the rider has been waiting all day to greet the neighbours.
Then there is the abundant honking. The shorter honks are generally directed at distracted drivers as the traffic light turns green, while the special, long honks are reserved for delivery vans triple-parked and blocking vehicles, lanes, and garage entrances with impressively casual confidence. But of course the true impact is on the residents trying to enjoy an afternoon nap with an open window (and people trying to teach, or take, an online class). Complementing the honking, there is the crosswalk signal outside our bedroom window, producing piercing beeps through the night.
None of this qualifies as tragedy, but I am curious about the cumulative effect of small irritations that keep attacking our nervous systems. Does people’s friendliness and the sum of all of our positive interactions outweigh the annoyances in our environment? You do not have to be unusually sensitive for this to matter; what surrounds us affects us. Perhaps these small, ambient stimuli shape our daily experience, and nightly sleep, more than we might imagine. The question is also one of social acceptance: Have noise, unpredictability, and acting inconsiderately towards others become OK?
Work Stuff
Before we moved, my boss assured me I can do my work from Portugal. That changed a month after our arrival. I was also keen on contributing my expertise and experience locally. As a contractor, not employee, to honour our family obligations and to live life more on our terms. Yet employers here are not keen on project work being done part-time or off-site. Would it have made sense to think of the destination for our move in terms of access to work? Or make professional connections in Portugal first, and then move? I might indeed approach such work stuff differently if we were to move again.
Surprises like these are not merely about logistics. They carry psychological weight; they affect how we live. Work is more than income: It is usefulness, contribution, and identity. Moving with the expectation that these things will still be available, only to find that they are harder to access than anticipated, can easily cause disappointment. And it can easily seep into how we experience the whole move — and ourselves in it.
Not Knowing
Our challenge with relocating may not necessarily be that we encounter difficulty. It could be that some of it comes from angles we did not know to examine. We prepare for the obvious differences, we discuss climate, bureaucracy, cost of living. But the more subtle forms of friction may be the ones that tell us most about ourselves. They show us where we are more attached, proud, morally rooted, reliant on meaning and expression than we knew. Many of us may never have explored these before moving.
Isn’t it curious how emotionally charged unexpected annoyances can become? Why is that? What exactly gets touched when a stranger comments on your language skills, or when a gesture of courtesy lands differently? When your professional identity has nowhere obvious to go? These are not inconveniences; these are mismatches between our habits of mind and the self-identity images we hold and the new reality around us.
Discover Yourself
So I wonder how all this may point towards what might help us. As Kathy and I concluded when we first started Relocurious, it may be useful to ask not just the usual practical questions about the exciting move we are planning, but to ponder a few of the more psychologically informed ones as well. Here are a few you may consider:
What kinds of friction affect me most — and how do I show up at those times?
What do I need in order to feel competent, dignified, rested, useful, cared about, at ease?
What assumptions am I making about work, language, social connection, or daily living that deserve to be tested more rigorously before I build a future around them?
What might I be underestimating, simply because it sounds ‘small’ in theory?
Being Practical
You may choose a daily life in your new place that involves intentional reflection on both the practical and the emotional. The practical stuff may be easier to start with:
Look for friendly places (and faces) to practice your new language. Be kind to yourself, but get going early. When things are not busy, a server or store clerk may be open to exchanging a few sentences with you — tell them you want to try. You can get more creative as well: Someone we know is taking a course about AI in their new language, not just to learn the technology, but for the opportunities to practice their language skills.
Explore different neighbourhoods, looking for those that check most of your boxes. If you are someone who gets stimulated by people and social gatherings, look for a plaza with outdoor restaurant seating and events. (A theatre near us sets up open-air movie nights in the summer.) If you prefer peace and quiet, a little street away from touristy areas and major roads may be what you are looking for. Spend time in the area before you commit.
Expand how you approach work. Venturing out to professional events may lead to new connections and opportunities. (Mine has led to conference invitations, teaching, and dinners with new friends.) Local colleagues can help you figure out unfamiliar systems. Staying in touch with colleagues ‘back home’ may help you learn about remote roles or new initiatives early. Every conversation is an opportunity to advance a relationship.
Getting Emotional
Finally, it can be useful to note the distinction between the events in the world around us, and how that reality gets reflected in our emotions, as well as thoughts and actions:
Emotions arise when something we care about is at stake, such as our values. Seemingly minor things, like unexpected deviations in social norms, can carry major weight because of what they touch or trigger in us.
Disappointments can easily turn into verdicts about the whole move, or about yourself. Disappointments results from judgments of difference: between the imagined and the actual, or between the past and the present.
As you become more at home in your new place, differences will diminish, and disappointments will dissolve. With emotions back in check, it will be easier to notice, and enjoy, the things that got you excited about moving in the beginning.
Your relocation may not be a dream becoming reality just as you had imagined. It may be a gradual unfolding of what in the dream was fantasy, what was wisdom, what was wishful omission. Where you have moved may indeed be right for you, even if parts of it initially rub painfully against who you are. Notice starting to feel like you belong when you find ways to meet those surprises with more curiosity than self-blame.
Every week, Relocurious brings you a podcast episode featuring a unique story of someone on the move, or a reflection post like this one. We’d love to hear how you are handling the ups and downs of relocating. To connect and start a conversation, please complete this simple form.