One Month In: The Beauty of Doing (Almost) Nothing

One Month In: The Beauty of Doing (Almost) Nothing

It’s been a month since I landed in Portugal.

If you asked me what I’ve done, it wouldn't read resemble the kind of checklist I used to measure my days by - but it would tell you a lot.

No big milestones. No dramatic revelations. No boxes neatly checked.

And yet—everything feels different.

I say bom dia, boa tarde, or just olá to nearly everyone I pass on my walks. I smile without thinking about it. That never happened before. Not in cities, not in daily life. Maybe on a hike in Aspen — but not walking through a neighborhood.

Here, it feels normal. Easy. Human. And somehow, that simple exchange has shifted the way my days feel.

Slowing Down (Without Falling Behind)

What’s surprised me most is how natural this shift has felt. I thought I’d be restless. Anxious. Wondering what I was supposed to be doing next, after years of measuring days by output. Instead, I haven’t felt that pull at all. The biggest change is that there’s no schedule to defend, emails to answer, or place to be. My work still exists — the blog, the site, the boards — but it fits around life now, not the other way around. I can work from a café, from home, from the beach. Or not, if the day asks for something else.

And the “nothing” I keep referring to isn’t actually nothing. I’ve joined a gym, started Pilates and water classes, signed up for pickleball lessons, begun language school, and walk 7+ miles a day just exploring. I’ve been knitting again — a scarf, a muffler, a bandana, a sweater. I’ve had lunches with a new friend. It’s just not work in the way I used to measure it.

What’s shocking is how fast the days move — not because I was slammed, but because I was present.

That presence creates space. Space to notice how the light changes during the day. Space to walk without an agenda. Space to sit with a glass of wine and not feel like I should be doing something else.

 

What I Thought I’d Be Freaking Out About (And Haven’t)

I thought I might be worried - that familiar feeling of needing to be doing something productive. Especially with the weather. The last few weeks have brought intense storms, long stretches of rain, and plans that constantly shift. 

What I've learned instead is how to move with it. I head out when the rain stops, walk until the clouds roll back in, then do it again later. Some days that means multiple shorter walks instead of two long ones. I've learned to take advantage of light, quiet moments, and windows of calm - and that rhythm feels surprisingly natural. Now, I see a path or stairs and follow them to where they take us. I've always had the curiosity, now i have the time.

Nothing has felt stalled or delayed. Just different. More responsive. More in tune with what's actually happening.

 

Ruby, Mayor of the Neighborhood

Ruby settled in quickly.

I’m convinced this town was built for her. She’s loving the long walks, new smells, familiar shops and faces. She knows her routes. She knows her people. I joke that she’s the mayor — but it’s not really a joke.

Everyone stops to pet her. To say hello. To tell her how pretty she is. All ages — from little kids to the elderly — she’s adored. And, the treats - not one, several!

And honestly? Watching her belong so easily has made me proud to be her mom. We’re clearly cut from the same adventurous cloth.

Two weeks in, someone greeted me with: “Olá, Suzi.”

That moment landed deeper than I expected. Hearing my name felt like belonging. 

 

Everyday Luxuries

So far, the luxuries here haven’t been big or performative. They’ve been small, steady, and woven into the day. Long walks along the beach. Wandering neighborhoods with no plan, just to notice parks, old buildings, gardens tucked behind gates. Learning the rhythm of a place by walking through it again and again but from different directions.

There’s a different kind of pleasure in discovering the practical things too — my favorite bakery, a plant shop I didn’t know I needed, a new hair salon that already feels familiar. And some days, the luxury is staying home: morning tea in a mug I love, figuring out my new air fryer, stopping mid-afternoon for a glass of vinho verde and a baked something picked up on a walk.

None of it is flashy. But all of it feels intentional. And right now, that feels like the point.

 

Fashion, Almost by Accident

So far, my style here has been shaped almost entirely by the weather. The first thirty days have been wet — real rain, real wind — and that’s dictated everything. What I thought I’d be wearing and what I’ve actually reached for are two very different things.

And yet, I’ve still been getting dressed every day because it feels good. Layers that work. Pieces that can handle rain and walking and real life, without giving up style. Who knew a great raincoat, my Souchi sweaters, and vintage Levi’s would become the most worn items so quickly.

Warm weather style will come — and it will make its own statements. But for now, this version of dressing has been about showing up for the day as it is. And honestly, that’s been part of the fun.

 

What’s Next

February language classes begin—twice a week, two hours at a time.

I’ll leave that chapter unwritten for now. It deserves its own reflection.

For the moment, I’m letting this first month be exactly what it’s been:

an adjustment, a soft landing, a reminder that progress doesn’t always look busy.

 

I’m curious — do you enjoy the more personal moments here, or do you prefer this space to stay strictly fashion? Leave a comment and let me know.

— Suzi