Isn't It Pretty To Think So?

Dispatches on life, love and the human condition by a wanderer and hopeful romantic


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Alive and kicking (it) in Lagos

I can’t believe it’s been more than five months since I’ve posted — more or less the same amount of time I’ve lived in Lagos, Portugal. The town, it seems, has consumed me, for many reasons too numerous to name.

I will eventually get around to describing the turn of events that have kept me insanely busy since I moved here, although some of them are not fit for publication (at least, not in this venue, stay tuned for the tell-all memoir!). But until I can get my head around it all — and believe me, it may take a lifetime to absorb it all — I wanted to provide at least a quick update on my expatriate life as it is today.

I’m still living in a beautiful little house on the edge of Old Town in a primarily Portuguese neighborhood. I have finally become not just acquainted with but friends with my landlord and sorted out a year lease for the house, and its interior has been freshly painted and cleaned and is looking pretty snazzy.

How this all happened is a long story in and of itself, and at one point seemed like it might never happen. But it did, and I’m happy to have finally — after months of uncertainty about my living situation — settled into a home.

Since I last posted I’ve also opened a boutique/art gallery just around the corner from my house. It’s called Pogo Gallery, and it sells mainly handmade items — clothes, jewelry, bags, textiles, photographs, paintings, organic food and soap — sourced from the local area.

As you might imagine, it was a load of work to put it all together, and it’s been slow going in terms of business (let’s not even talk about profitability), but I have learned immensely from my experience, and I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished.

The photo is of the interior of Pogo as it is during my first summer holiday season here in Lagos. I designed much of it myself, though I had friends help me with painting and building the displays and furniture for the shop, nearly all of which was custom-made for it.

Being a local business owner has also helped me become a real part of this community of people that call Lagos home year-round. Last week I went to an annual music festival near Zambujeira do Mar and camped with a bunch of them, another one of memorable experiences I’ve stacked up in the short time I’ve lived here.

Lagos is primarily a holiday town, with a lot of transient 20-somethings working bar and restaurant jobs for the summer to earn money on their way to their next destination — many go to ski resorts in the Alps to do the fall/winter holiday season there.

August is the busiest month in Lagos, when tourists from around Portugal and Europe invade the town, crowding restaurants, bars and beaches. It’s a bit insufferable (not to mention wicked HOT), but having survived nearly two years living in NoLIta, in the heart of downtown NYC — where it’s rammed with tourists for months on end, not just a few weeks of summer — Lagos doesn’t seem all that bad.

There are, however, a group of people in Lagos and its immediate surroundings that have made a conscious decision to call this quirky little town home. For better or worse (and believe me, I could argue both sides), I have become one of those people. I’m not sure how long I will live here, but I am committing myself to the place for at least the next couple of years, even if I take some time off in the winter — like many do — to go traveling for awhile.

Because this picturesque little town isn’t such a bad place to use as home base, and now that I’ve finally made the move to Europe, I honestly don’t have any desire to return to the U.S. — at least not on any permanent basis — anytime soon. And while I may not stay in Lagos forever, it’s certainly been — with its staple of English-speaking expatriates, all of us bound by a desire to escape whatever life we left behind — a soft place for me to land on a new continent.