Walking around southern Portugal, it’s hard not to notice the plants. What grows here?

Being retired, every day is the weekend. With weekdays freely intermingling with the weekend days, a Bom Dia seems the most reliable greeting. Over time, though, something funny happens. The days begin to earn their own identities

Usually, we start with an idea of an idea, and the day reveals itself into something cohesive. This time, art led the way.

This year’s theme at Carnaval de Loulé was superheroes: a steady flow of capes, streamers, satire, and spectacle moving down the street.

Menu 2 is where things get personal. Sometimes you’re offered a choice in how you want your jitters delivered—coffee or juice.

When our GPS says vira à esquerda na rotunda (turn left at the roundabout), it feels less like an instruction and more like an invitation.

Portugal in early January felt like a fading sign—still lit, still legible, but no longer calling for attention. We picked that in-between stretch of the calendar for a road trip, loosely sketched with four open days and two open minds.

With holiday lights turning on at the end of November, it felt like a continuous party. But by the end of the year, I started to feel like a limp strand of lights with a few bulbs that flicker.

Presépios are everywhere, threaded through towns like a quiet current, easy to miss if you’re rushing.They appear in wool and wood, shaped by traditions the Algarve knows by heart.