avatarAraci Almeida

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Portuguese People Don’t Invite Anyone to Their Homes

It wasn’t this way in the past, but our lives are too different now

Photo by Lee Myungseong on Unsplash

This picture almost speaks for itself.

You can feel it: the summer, the French cheese, the lemonade, the roasted peppers, and you can even nearly hear the laughter among everyone gathering at that table. All culminate with the summer heat's warmth as the day ends.

This is beautiful, but I don’t see this happening much in my country. As this has previously crossed my mind, last week, a French student confirmed it.

There she was, venting and asking me why Portuguese people never invite anyone to their homes.

In her not-so-deep complaint, she continued to muse about the differences between Portugal and France and how there, unlike here, it’s so natural to invite friends for the famous ‘aperitif’—once at someone’s house, and another time at someone else’s home.

While she joyfully recounted something so romantic and linked to Mediterranean culture, a part of me lamented that Portuguese people are not like that.

Who wouldn’t love a bit of wine at the end of the day, pieces of cheese, nice food, and all that?

I certainly would!

What she described seemed like a stunning scene: a table, food, friends, and laughter.

However, after confirming my student’s complaints and putting myself in that position, I took a step back. Suddenly, I saw everything the opposite way.

Surely I would love all that food, but who would prepare it? When I saw that I had to organize the whole thing, it started worrying me deeply.

I didn’t see peace or harmony but nerves, stress, and irritation. I saw an exhausting typical workday, the house to tidy up, and the routine of preparing something for dinner and relaxing until falling asleep. I couldn’t conceive where I could even find time to organize a small snack with friends in between!

I could only see myself receiving people with a sack of nerves! What a snack!

However, in our defense, my student noted the obvious. “One thing is also true: Portuguese people work many more hours than we do. You’re always exhausted.”

That says it all.

There’s no time. And in a society where there’s no time to invite anyone into our homes, there’s also no time to make friends or maintain the few we still have between 30 and 40 years old. We’re tired, trying to prioritize — and often failing — our family.

When the weekend approaches, the routine has already set in. We prioritize family, husband, wife, and grandparents. And from living our lives like this so much, when we rarely meet friends again—after a super well-calculated agenda— the table sometimes fills with moments of silence. What are we going to talk about? What do we have still in common in our lives?

Not so much…

There are no longer any points of convergence. And in somewhat embarrassing moments, we recount for the thousandth time those old episodes that we all already know from when we were kids in college.

But all these lunches that will disappear over time are held at the restaurant table. Everyone is split on the bill because nobody has to support anyone else.

Our house is our sacred space of privacy. I am an example of my student’s loudest complaint.

And for so long in my twenties, when my house was limited to the space of my room, anyone who entered through that door but me made my soul shudder.

My house is my retreat, which is only mine. Getting married was the most extraordinary proof of love I could show someone. But I confess that, besides family members, I don’t feel like filling my house with friends. And if someone has to come in, just please, let me know with a great deal in advance.

I may be too Portuguese.

Hello, I’m Araci, a female writer from Portugal. Thank you so much for reading me.

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