Differences between Portugal and the U.S.—Part Three (Safety)

Safety

Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash

A Quick Intro

Hi, I’m Kimberly Anne and thrilled to be writing these articles for you. If you don’t know my background: I relocated alone from San Francisco to Portugal in September 2022, sight unseen and without a built-in support system. Before that, I spent a year traveling solo across the U.S., living in a van. I’m also a published indie author with over 30 novels.

Click here to listen to the author read this article (plus 2 extra ad-lib stories thrown in)

Safety

Safety had to be a stand-alone article and it’s finally time to jump right in. I’ve spent the past two years living in Portugal and going back and forth about writing this article. I have written about some of this in the past, but here it is—all in one article and tied up with a bow. 

It’s taken me time to write this because:

1. In some ways it’s partially subjective.

2. It’s ever-changing.

Background

Coming from California in the United States I have a different view of safety than a Portuguese person who’s always lived in Portugal has. And they have a different view of safety in comparison to a Brazilian who grew up in Rio or an Argentinian who spent their life in Buenos Aires, as my best friend did.

I also have a different point of view after spending a year living in a van and traversing the US solo. I ran into a few dangerous situations and thankfully everything turned out fine!

From my Point of View

I have never felt safer in a city than I do in Porto. 

Europe is not a friendly place in that people do not smile at one another when they walk down the street. 

I was used to smiling and being smiled at in the US, especially in the south. And honestly, I do miss that. But it’s just the culture here. And I’ve absolutely perfected my resting bitch face, which makes me giggle uncontrollably at times (super inappropriate I know but I still act 5 years old sometimes).

If you are introduced to someone here or stop to talk to an acquaintance, they’re very nice, nicer even than in the states. Probably because they’re not in a hurry to get to XYZ yesterday.

But the safety extends beyond this. 

When I first moved here and was walking down the street and a car pulled up along side me to park or turn, I leapt out of the way for fear I was going to be kidnapped or mugged. When I walked home from a restaurant at night, I carried my stun gun ready and armed. It was a habit. Where I lived in the United States, it was quite safe, compared to a lot of other places but I still lived in constant fear. I carried a stun-gun in one hand and pepper spray in the other whenever I walked outside after dark. 

It didn’t help that when I owned a small storefront community acupuncture clinic in the sleepy downtown of my little area I had constant safety issues. A homeless man came in twice and urinated all over the expensive foam on the massage tables. Another mentally disturbed individual hid under the front desk of my herb store, screaming and cussing until the police came in and carried him away forcefully. Another disturbed person physically threatened me multiple times in my underground garage.

One of my employees even decided that my store and clinic would be a great place to buy and sell drugs, until I found out and fired him. And then… I had his anger and threats to contend with. Again, I was forced to involve the cops.

I called the police so often, at least twice a week, that they eventually told me to buy and carry a gun. They explained it was legal for me because this was my place of business and I was constantly dealing with “unsavory characters.”

How great would that have been, carrying a weapon in a healing practice? Instead of using needles, was I supposed to use bullets?

And There Was More

For a year in my apartment complex in a very wealthy town in Northern California, I had a crack addict living above me. She tried to burn the building down, twice. She raged during the night and slept during the day. She screamed obscenities out of her window so frequently that people stopped walking their children down the street. She stole my packages. She turned tricks for money and moved a very aggressive homeless, male addict into her apartment. They sold drugs above me at all hours of the night. He threatened me. Again I called the cops, every single night. But they told me, “sorry ma’am, there’s nothing we can do.”

It was a very dangerous situation and my hands were completely tied until one day I was so fed up that I stood outside and recorded them. While I did it, the male threatened me again, but I was beyond caring at that point. The police were useless, I couldn’t find another apartment I could afford (even though I looked for nine months while holding down two full time jobs) and I figured, “I have nothing left to lose.” I sent the video to the cops, the HOA, all my neighbors and the woman’s mother who gaslit me the entire time she lived above me. 

Within the hour, the guy was in handcuffs and they were both carted off, never to return. I also found it unconscionable that the mother, who paid for us all to live in terror for a year and gaslit me, never apologized. Instead, she sobbed outside my apartment and called me names. Ahhh, some of the rampant entitlement in the good ol’ US of A.

The Present

I no longer jump when a car pulls up next to me. I do get startled at times but I no longer fear for my life on a daily basis. 

The Worst Here (for me)

Last night a man walked by me, too close, in the dark. I jumped and my dog growled menacingly (she’s quite good at this). He was going to his car.

Recently an acquaintance who refuses to take no for an answer, reached out and grabbed my arm while I was walking down the street with my headset on. I screamed and he pulled me into an alcove, trying once again, and failing, to get my phone number. 

But that’s the worst I’ve personally experienced, and I won’t say that’s not bad. I’ve encountered over a dozen aggressive men here who pressure foreign women to have sex with them. I’ve had to scream the words, “no means no!” But some men don’t understand that concept here and don’t respect the word no. However, they also don’t carry guns and I can (and do) freely walk away.

Unattended Phones

I have friends who leave their smart phones on a counter or table in a restaurant, unattended, while they go to the bathroom. I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable doing this but it tickles me pink when they do. 

I recently saw a fantastic South African comedian who said that nothing bad ever happens in Switzerland and they too leave their phones on the table. So she tried it and left both her phone and purse. When she got back they were upgraded. Obviously a joke, but one that I can relate to, living here.

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

I’ve lived in a constant state of fear for my entire life and not living in one… is both strange and wonderful. I’m not unaware of my surroundings or people, that is a habit I cannot break and I think that’s a good thing. But I no longer live with adrenaline shooting through my system every time I walk out of my house.

What’s Been Observed

I have a close American friend who’s lived here for twenty years and is fluent in Portuguese and the ways of Porto. She has noticed a lot of changes here, even in the past year, specifically racism. The area she lives in has become predominantly Indian. But the Portuguese are bullying these immigrants and more than once it’s turned violent. While the Portuguese are really not known for violence, things are definitely changing for the worse.

Lisbon

It can be rougher in Lisbon, it’s the biggest city. I have one friend who was mugged at 2am. He was pushed so hard that he fell on his face, broke his glasses and had a lot of bruising. Another person I know was stoned outside a stadium after a football game. This may have been a case of mistaken identity. He said it was a gang and they weren’t Portuguese. He ended up in the hospital for a month and has permanent brain damage.

Do violent things happen as often here as they do in the US? Absolutely not. But also, Portugal is a lot smaller, one fourth the size of California. And there’s still more violence in California. There are more people living in California, it’s the culture in America and… guns. (An aside: I’m actually not anti-gun but that’s a long debate I’m not interested in opening here).

The Future

Will all of this change? Absolutely. Everything changes. But I don’t worry about being kidnapped here or being held up at gunpoint or even about being robbed or mugged. I hope, at least, that continues.

I’ve had a taste of safety and I really don’t want to go back to being fearful and looking over my shoulder all the time. It reminds of Terry McMillan’s 1992 book, Waiting to Exhale. Waiting to Exhale symbolizes the the idea of holding one’s breath—waiting for a moment of relief, safety, or happiness.

*****In Portugal, I can finally exhale.

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Articles you may find helpful:

The Differences Part 1: Inside my Apartment

The Differences Part 2: Outside—Sidewalks, Smells, Zebra Crossings, Trash, Parking and Dog Poop!

First Six Months of Living Abroad

How/Why I Ended up in Portugal

Living Abroad After Two Years

If you’re considering moving abroad I have a series of articles to help.

Archive of all my Articles and Podcast Episodes

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—Expat on a Budget AKA Living Abroad on a Budget and My Unknown Adventure by Kimberly Anne