I’ve been thinking of a metaphor as I continue my love affair with Portugal. And I think I’ve finally found it.
When you order a coffee here – whether at a café, a restaurant, or even at McDonald’s – you don’t get a lid. Ever.
At first, I thought it was strange. I’m so used to the grab-and-go culture of North America, where coffee comes with a lid, a logo, and a sense of urgency. Coffee is something you sip while you’re doing other things- walking, driving, checking emails, chasing time.
But here, it’s different. Coffee is not meant to be consumed fast.
It’s meant to be savored.
To be enjoyed sitting down, often with company, sometimes with silence.
It’s a small pause built into the rhythm of the day, a ritual that insists you stop.
And it made me wonder:
Have I had it wrong all these years?
Have I been so focused on moving fast – on being efficient, productive, “on time” – that I forgot to be present?
Because maybe the purpose of life isn’t to rush from one moment to the next. Maybe it’s to taste the moment we’re in. To feel the warmth of the cup in our hands. To listen, to notice, to breathe.
Portugal is teaching me that slowing down is not laziness — it’s living. And perhaps the secret to joy is simply this: to live a lidless life.
And as I sip my last few Portuguese coffees, I find myself wondering:
How do I carry this home with me?
Because back home, life moves fast.
Calendars fill up. To-do lists multiply. There are always goals to reach, projects to finish, people to show up for.
And if I’m honest – as an Enneagram 3 – I’ve spent most of my life doing.
Achieving. Striving. Moving forward. I’ve measured my worth by what I accomplish, not by how I am.
Yet here in Portugal, something has shifted.
For the first time in a long while, I’m learning how to simply be.
To sit in a café without checking the time.
To watch the waves without needing to capture them.
To measure a day not by how much I got done, but by how present I was.
So maybe the real souvenir I’ll take home isn’t a ceramic tile or a pastel de nata recipe.
Maybe it’s this lesson:
That life is not a race to be run, but a rhythm to be felt.
That even back home, I can choose, cup by cup, breath by breath,
to live a little more like Portugal.
To live lidless.
