local

 I am in Portugal. No, wait. I LIVE in Portugal. I’m not here just for a vacation, I’m here for a whole year. And after that year, who knows, I may even stay.

I live here. I pay rent, I have a bus card, I go to school here. I even speak the language of this country, even though I struggle a lot. However, I am blonde, pale and always come on time and this three qualities combined scream NOT-A-LOCAL. Yet, I start to feel like a local here. 

It only occurred to me today, when I stopped by a local café to get a sandwich. You see, I didn't just stop by ANY café. It was a very specific one, where they have my favourite sandwiches. There was a group of English tourists (judging by the accent) in front of the café, wondering whether or not to come in. I passed them by, went in, grabbed a sandwich, said “só isso para mim” (“just that one for me”) and gave the seller 1,5€ – because I already knew well how much it is gonna be. While walking out I smiled to the man who just sold me the sandwich and wished him a good afternoon (“boa tarde!”). And the tourists where still outside, unsure of what to do.

And while I was walking with that sandwich in my hand, it just hit me – I’m a local here. I may be relatively new, but I am already a local. This is where my address is now, these are the streets I walk and the buses I take everyday. I mean, damn, this is where I have my favourite sandwich places. 

It’s funny, life. Not so long ago I was a local in Warsaw. And now I am in here. But it doesn’t mean I’m not a local in Warsaw anymore. I still am.

I remember watching a great TED Talk about this subject, called “Don’t ask me where I’m from, ask me where I’m local”. And I am local here, most definitely. I will always be blond, I am also perpetually and stubbornly pale. About coming on time I’m not sure, maybe one day I will switch to the southern state of mind and will also be as late as Portuguese people. One way or another: welcome to Porto, a city where I am a local.