10 days in Portugal

How We Moved

I finished packing the suitcases on the very last day. I had arranged for a girl to take all the things that didn't fit in our baggage. We filled her entire trunk and even placed a few large bags in the back seat. We also took an equal amount of toys and stationery to the school. We wrapped the suitcases in plastic film just ten minutes before leaving - not that we are big fans of plastic film, but we feared they might fall apart during unloading. Turns out, our fears weren’t in vain.

Our first concern was the baggage weight. According to our tickets, we were allowed 30 kg in checked luggage and 8 kg in carry-on. While waiting in line for check-in, we noticed at least three passengers ahead of us having to pay €70–80 for overweight suitcases. Ours weighed 31 kg each, but luckily, we weren’t charged extra. My carry-on was 11 kg, and my backpack was so stuffed that if they had asked me to fit it into the measurement frame, I would have had to throw out all my underwear and sketchbooks. Fortunately, on a night flight, no one cared about minor baggage overweight, so we passed this stage successfully.

The second challenge was an 8.5-hour layover in Turkey. And here, too, our concerns proved justified. At 5 a.m., Zhenya woke up with flushed cheeks and a burning forehead. I usually don’t take medicine in my carry-on, but this time I had a small medical kit, which, thankfully, contained paracetamol. She struggled to swallow that giant, bitter pill, and we still had 3.5 hours of waiting and 5 hours of flying ahead of us. The rest of the journey was more or less okay. She took another pill when we landed.

The third concern—our luggage. We worried whether our suitcases would arrive with us. A common issue during layovers is when luggage gets put on the wrong flight and ends up touring the world while you're already working at your new location. Our bags did arrive, but there was one problem: one suitcase was missing a wheel—the one on the handle side, making it impossible to roll.

So now we had two normal suitcases, one broken one, a sick child, and three carry-on bags. Yehor took the two rolling suitcases, I dragged the broken one, and I sat Zhenya on her small suitcase. Luckily, she started feeling a bit better and was able to pull her own bag, which lightened my load.

As I was dragging myself far behind Yehor, I saw that security was about to "package" him for inspection. I caught up with Zhenya and told her to run to her dad. She ran over, and the guard started questioning who he was and where he was from. Yehor tried to explain that he was Ukrainian, coming from Montenegro, but the flight was from Turkey. The officer repeated each question twice.

Then I appeared - exhausted, red-faced, sweaty, and dragging another suitcase. The officer immediately changed his tone: "Oh, so you're a family. You are welcome. You’re free to go."

So here’s some advice: always stick together. A single man with two large suitcases will almost certainly have them inspected. We had nothing illegal, of course, but the thought of having to repack everything was terrifying—I had spent a whole week carefully distributing our stuff so the bags would actually close.

The next step—picking up the rental car. We left the airport, and I was barely dragging that broken suitcase. We reached the parking lot only to realize… it was the wrong one! We had to go in the opposite direction. Exhaustion hit like a wave - I wanted to cry. The weather was warm enough. Yehor left us in the shade and went to find the rental office, as dragging all the bags around was becoming a serious challenge. After a few minutes, he came back and said he found it. We went down to the basement level where the counter was, Yehor went inside, and we sat down outside. Zhenya immediately fell asleep in my lap.

A couple of minutes later, Yehor came back and said: "This is the wrong office." Meanwhile, we had three suitcases, three carry-ons, and a sleeping 20-kg child. Yehor left us again to search for the correct office.

We waited about 30 minutes in the noisy, humid, and drafty basement. Zhenya, wrapped in my jacket, slept peacefully. When Yehor returned, we had to wake her up because carrying both her and the luggage was simply impossible. We barely made it to the elevator and finally picked up the car.

Settling In & First Impressions of IKEA and Local Stores

After picking up the car, we had one last urgent meeting—with the realtor. He had been waiting for us but was about to leave for another appointment. We arrived just as he was pulling away. He quickly showed Yehor the apartment, keys, and how everything worked, then rushed off. We carried our bags upstairs in three trips and finally took a deep breath.

Time to rest? Not so fast. The apartment had minimal furniture and no blankets. We found a small throw blanket and one pillow, put Zhenya to bed, washed up, and rushed to IKEA.

And… we got lost inside IKEA. We entered through the wrong side, wandering through the warehouse section, wondering why everyone loves IKEA when it seemed smaller than the mini-market across the street. Then I saw a passage near the artificial flowers and we finally entered the main showroom. We realized we had walked through the sections in reverse—from 24 to 17.

We found blankets, bedding, pillows, grabbed some extra stuff along the way, and headed to the self-checkout. We struggled a bit, holding up the line, but a helpful staff member guided us through the process. We quickly packed everything and rushed home to our sick child, who had been sleeping the entire time.

By this point, 24 hours had passed since we had left our previous home. Hungry, we went to the small market across the street. It reminded me of ATB—small but with everything you need. And even in such a compact store, there was a surprisingly large variety of products.

First Impressions of Prices and Local Stores: 

• Meat, sugar, and salt cost about the same as in Montenegro.
• Turkey is abundant and priced the same as chicken.
• Sunflower oil is €0.40–0.50 more expensive.
• Furniture at IKEA is 20–30% cheaper than in Montenegro.
• Toilet paper and kitchen towels are shockingly expensive and very thin.

Shopping here is an adventure. After Montenegro, I feel like a kid in a candy store—I want to try everything! There are tons of fresh produce, dairy, meats, frozen foods, and ready-made meals.

After living in Montenegro, stepping into local Portuguese supermarkets felt like I had just "emerged from the woods"—I wanted to try everything!

The variety of fruits, vegetables, dairy products, meats, ready-made meals, and frozen foods was overwhelming. For the first time in six years, we bought plain white ice cream without any artificial additives or the usual bitter aftertaste that manufacturers often try to mask with fruit jams or chocolate toppings.

However, I still haven’t been able to find many types of grains—so far, only rice and oatmeal flakes. I love different kinds of porridge. Sour cream? We usually bought Greek yogurt, but here it turned out to be either: the first time it was vegan (tastes like water-soaked cellulose), the next two times it was sweetened (reminds me of the children's yogurt we used to buy in Ukraine 6–7 years ago).

After our initial chaotic trip to IKEA, we decided to give it another chance. In fact, I even signed up for a membership card and placed an online order for pickup.

This option is super convenient if you have a car—you can pick up your order the very next day. The only alternative was home delivery, which had a 10-day wait time. That wasn’t an option for us since we needed to assemble our furniture before the end of our vacation.

We loaded the car so heavily that it sank on its rear wheels, but we made it home. Once again, it took us three trips with the elevator to bring everything upstairs.

I also noticed that 80% of the furniture in our rented apartment is from IKEA, as well as most of the kitchen appliances.

The IKEA store is always packed, and the self-checkout lines are long.

• On weekends, finding a parking spot near the main entrance is nearly impossible.
• If you need to take an elevator, be prepared to wait 15–20 minutes just to move between floors.

One huge advantage—IKEA prices in Portugal are much lower than in Montenegro.

To be honest, I’ve always thought IKEA furniture wasn’t the highest quality, but in Montenegro, the prices are so inflated that you could commission custom furniture from solid oak instead!

Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a little, but I deliberately didn’t unsubscribe from Montenegrin stores that sell IKEA products so I could compare prices. The markup there is sometimes as high as 70%!

On average, IKEA prices in Portugal are 20–30% lower than in Montenegro.

Enrolling Our Child in School

This process turned out to be quite complicated. At first, we communicated with the school administration and secretariat, but the information they provided was vague. I emailed one address but received a response from a different one. When we asked what documents were needed and where to submit them, the reply was something like:

"There are no spots in the second or third grade at the school you want. Just come and bring your documents."

No details about when, where, or what exactly to bring.

At first, I wrote to them, then Yehor did. We decided to wait a week while our daughter recovered from her illness before proceeding. On Monday, we took a day off work and went to the school. Thankfully, we were greeted by a staff member who spoke English. She helped us fill out several forms and scanned:

• A copy of our child’s passport,
• Her grades and a reference letter from her Montenegrin school.

We were given four additional forms to complete at home and were told they would inform us by the end of the week where and when to bring our child.

We soon learned that Portugal uses a six-point grading scale and operates on a trimester system. At that time, the second trimester was ending, while in Montenegro, they were already in the third quarter. Despite these differences and the language barrier, our daughter was placed in the second grade.

The next morning, Yehor received an urgent email instructing us to submit the completed forms immediately because our child was expected at school that same day.

It took me at least two hours to fill them out correctly. Online translators weren’t always accurate, so I made some mistakes, which meant I could only submit the documents closer to lunchtime. Once again, they scanned the passport copy and finally informed us which school we needed to go to the next morning at 8:30 a.m.

They also gave me login credentials for the school’s online system, where I could find:

• Class schedules
• Grades and performance records
• Details from all submitted forms

There was also a separate platform for school meals. Parents could prepay for lunches using a digital school card, but Visa and Mastercard were not accepted—only local bank accounts. Our colleagues helped us top up the account temporarily, while we waited to open a local bank account to manage payments ourselves.

Lunch cost: €1.46 per meal (free for Ukrainian refugees under temporary protection).
Meal schedules: Uploaded at the end of each month for the next month. Previous menus were also available for reference.

School Rules and First Impressions

Parents have two options for lunch breaks:

1. Take the child home (which was not an option for us since school was 20–25 minutes away on foot).
2. Leave them at school for a meal.

School hours: 8:30 a.m. – 5:00 p.m.
Lunch break: 12:30 p.m. – 2:00 p.m.

The first half of the day, they study according to the program, and the second half of the day is for additional activities: sports, stage performance, science, ecology, etc. Three directions can be chosen. For children in grades 1–4, the activities are free of charge. There is also an extended day group from 5 PM to 8 PM, but it is paid. I don’t know how much it costs, and we probably don’t need it.

To pick up a child from school during school hours, a special permit must be obtained. The child will only be released to someone listed in the forms we filled out. This means that no aunts, uncles, grandparents, or other relatives can take the child from school unless they are included in the school records. A maximum of three people can be listed. The child will also not be allowed to leave the school alone. According to school rules, if a child enters or exits through any entrance other than the main one, the school is not responsible for them.

I still don’t fully understand how lessons are structured. In the online system, classes are displayed in three-hour blocks, so I need to figure out how breaks work.

On the first day, our daughter enjoyed school. There were two other children in her class with whom she could communicate in a familiar language.

However, parents are not allowed on school grounds. We dropped her off at the gate, where she was led inside, and we had no idea what was happening beyond that point. We left our phone numbers, but the teacher never called or messaged us.

I had so many questions, as the schooling system here is clearly different from Montenegro’s. The student’s online profile only displayed the teacher’s name and the secretariat’s email address.

Phones are not allowed at school—not even during breaks. I really wanted to check in on her, but I couldn’t. I also assumed that, at the very least, she could use Google Translate if needed, but apparently, that wasn't an option either.

I hope to understand the process better over time and will share more details later.

Final Thoughts

Our first 10 days in Portugal were an emotional rollercoaster. From packing struggles and layover nightmares to enrolling our daughter in school, it was a challenging yet exciting journey. The differences in prices, stores, and school systems took some getting used to, but we're slowly adjusting.

There’s still a lot to explore and learn, and I’m sure more surprises await us in the coming weeks!