I’m a bit compulsive about unpacking. Usually within hours of arriving home I’ve emptied my suitcase and filled the laundry hamper. This trip was no exception. It’s not that I want to move on; it’s the opposite. I want to see what I’ve collected. 

On this trip there were ceramic tiles and carved olive wood. There were books and teas and a box of six pasteis de nata, the national pastry of Portugal, bought from a chaotic coffee counter in the Lisbon airport. 

But mostly, I return with memories, impressions, ideas. It was my first trip to the continent since 2010, and I’d forgotten how much I love the way Europeans live, the scale of their houses and streets, the pace of life that includes time for a coffee break, which, given the size of Portuguese coffee cups, doesn’t take long.  The way they live with less in one way (smaller cars, tighter spaces) but more in others (an appreciation for beauty and the
past).  

My suitcase is empty. My mind is full.