It’s busy in the supermarket. Two checkouts are already open. I’m just last in line when it’s announced that the next one is opening, and that we can go to checkout 3 in the correct order.
The man who has just arrived, with a few items in his hands, nods at me, because I’m allowed to go first.
That’s the portuguese way
That’s nice of him. I hesitate for a moment, mumble something about how I have more things, and that he should go first – a bit old-fashioned, “After you, sir,” but he insists, “No, no, certainly not, I insist, after you.” So to avoid further hassle, I smile politely at him, go, and start putting my groceries on the conveyor belt.
It’s not uncommon for people to let each other go first. You see it happen regularly. One person is unloading a cart full of groceries, while the other follows behind with just a few items. More often than not, the full cart means someone else can go first. And when the privileged person is finished, they politely thank the full cart.
In this case, it was the other way around. So I nod politely to him (and he back to me – it’s quite a nodding) before leaving the store, because I actually think it’s quite an impressive gesture. I mean, the world keeps turning, but this regular kindness makes a society livable and pleasant.
My next stop is the Cooperativa – the Farmers’ cooperative – because I’m out of bird food. I really appreciate the cheerful, whistling little birds, so they get a little extra in the winter. And Mira has rights too, so she’ll appreciate a stroll around the market halls in Soure.
I pass two small butchers and get the idea to ask for a cow bone for Mira. (Mira isn’t allowed to eat bones from smaller animals because her jaws are far too strong. They splinter and can cause internal bleeding. Brrr.) I lean in to the first one: “Olá boa tarde” … but the butcher doesn’t hear me, her back to me, busy mopping the shop. It’s the end of the day.
Cleaning the shop isn’t just the portuguese way of closing up
I walk to the next one, where the butcher is serving a customer. Then I start to shamble a bit, maybe back off, or just ask in spite of the customer? I walk back, and with a bit more volume, I wish the first butcheress good afternoon again and ask if she has a cow bone to give.
“Oh, unfortunately, no, what a shame, that’s your dog?” she asks when she turns and looks up, “What a beauty, no, unfortunately not…” After the usual formalities, I go another door, lean in, and this time ask boldly over the customer’s shoulder: “Boa tarde, desculpe, excuse me, just a quick question, do you please have a cow bone for my dog?” Oh, no, unfortunately, she doesn’t either, what a shame… As I retreat, the first butcheress approaches me triumphantly with a bag with a bone in it: “Look, I suddenly realized I have something after all, a delicious bone for your dog!”
I think this is absolutely fantastic, and I shower her with my gratitude.
See, that’s what I find impressive. She didn’t have to do it. He (the supermarketman) didn’t either.
But they did. Just like thousands of others here in Portugal, and that’s precisely what makes life so pleasant
(Disclaimer: I’m a bit tired of the keyword stuff and Google’s dictatorship. So here they are, and I’m also hoping for the cleverness of AI in this matter that it will still be found and read, but that I don’t have to force myself to use the right terms in the title and headings. #supermarket #portugueseway #manners )
We moved here in 2000 from Rotterdam, the Netherlands, to the Termas-da-Azenha, Portugal. We started to rebuild one of portugals cultural heirlooms: Termas-da-Azenha, an old spa. You’ll find mosaics and paintings everywhere.
Since Covid we rent the houses for a longer period of time, not as holiday houses anymore.
Each week a little blog about what is happening around us. An easy read. A few minutes in another world. A little about what it going on in Portugal. If you plan your holiday to Portugal, it might be a nice preparation.
In the weekend we publish it on Bluesky, Facebook, Pinterest and Instagram.