Jeff Rittener (00:00)
Welcome back to part two of episode 21 of Ritner Reflections. In this part, I will introduce you to some of the amazing people I met along the way while I explored Lisbon and Porto. I mentioned some of them in part one, Pathways to Portugal, but here I will provide some more context about the encounter and

will introduce you to several others. You while I was in these cities and meeting these folks, I explained to each one that I published a podcast and that if they were willing, I would mention them in my summary of the trip. And each one agreed and they were very excited to find my podcast and listen not only to this one, but some of the others.

So in this episode, I will share a lesson I learned from each encounter, along with a key word, beginning in P for Portugal. I hope you enjoy meeting them and that this will inspire you to connect with others in simple ways, wherever you may be.

I didn't go to Portugal with a checklist or an agenda. I went with really just curiosity and maybe a little hope that the change of scenery would offer me some clarity. What I didn't expect was how much the people I met along the way would shape the experience. know, Lisbon was the first reminder that

Sometimes the best part of traveling ⁓ isn't necessarily the places you plan to see, but it's really the moments you never could have planned at all. Now, as I settled into the city of Lisbon, I kept noticing how alive it felt. You know, not just with all the movement and everything going on on a daily basis, but just with the conversations. You know, I mentioned in part one that I had spent time at

the protest in Lisbon. You know, I watched people voice their frustration and their hopes, you know, with ⁓ a lot of exuberance and with real honesty. You know, a little later I was leaving and I passed a journalist who was standing outside a wine shop. His camera with its long lens was hanging at his side and he was finishing a glass of red wine while talking politics with another man.

You know, their conversation, as I stood there and listened, moved, you know, easily from what was going on with the protest itself to the broader tensions that are going on geopolitically in the world, you know, in particular, US and Russia. It was, you know, a brief encounter, but it captured something essential that I learned about Lisbon, and that is that this is a place where people don't just kind of observe the world. They really do engage with it. You know, my first

meal in Lisbon was served by a woman from Nepal ⁓ and she was a hostess at a small noodle house. And then my last meal in the city, this was a breakfast at a quiet cafe in the neighborhood, was also served to me by a woman from Nepal.

Jeff Rittener (03:53)
Two different people, two different moments, but both shared a similar story. Their parents had come to Portugal first, built a foothold, and then brought their adult children to join them. Now they all live together, working, supporting one another, and building a life far from home.

Jeff Rittener (04:17)
I cannot remember her name, it was a Nepalese name and I just can't remember, but she told me that she would always live with her parents unless she got married. This is the norm and she was fine with it. So what I learned here was this idea of presence. know, sometimes,

You know, the journey towards stability can be generational and it can be like a relay, not necessarily a sprint.

I talked about Francisco in part one with the food tour. It was obvious his knowledge, his warmth, and the way he carried Lisbon's food traditions with him was quite amazing. But there was another moment that we had that kind of stayed with me. He told me he'd always wanted to visit Macau. Now this is a former Portuguese colony in China.

And he wanted to go there to see just how much of the Portuguese culture remained. You know, and then he paused and he said, he was really afraid to go. He was afraid that the Portuguese distinctives that he cherished might have faded or even disappeared. And that he would come away completely disappointed.

So what I learned from Francisco was about pride. It isn't just about celebrating what is, but it's also sometimes about mourning what might be lost.

Now, I wandered into Mateo's restaurant on what turned out to be their four-year anniversary. Now, this was a restaurant in the neighborhood of Grassa that I was staying in. And it was in this sort of alleyway where there were multiple restaurants. And there were two restaurants across from each other. And I tried to ⁓ get a seat ⁓ in

in the restaurants and I couldn't, I couldn't, I couldn't necessarily get my, it was so crowded. I mean, there were the place, both places were overflowing and I found, come to find out later they were both owned by Mateo. And, you know, there were friends, there were regulars, there were neighbors, they were all there celebrating this anniversary, celebrating what Mateo and his partner had built. And so as I sat there eating my pizza, I

I watched this man with a white hat, white baseball cap, and he just was back and forth from the kitchen out to the outside where the tables were and inside. And he moved through the restaurant with unmistakable confidence, you know, of someone who really knows his place. He knew every inch of the kitchen and every plate that leaves it. So I wanted to talk to Mateo and eventually, and I left, I...

came up to him and I congratulated him on his anniversary. I thanked him for just what I thought was tremendous food. And I told him that I was from the United States and I'm a podcaster and I'd love to talk to him about his restaurant and why he does this. And so we talked and he shared with me the whole story of how he started this restaurant, he and his partner.

But what he told me was pretty simple, but it was quite revealing. His partner was focused on the service, making sure that the place, you know, that there was good service to the guests. But Matteo, he focused more on the food. You see, they make their own pizza dough and their pasta from scratch. And Matteo told me that nothing makes him happier than hearing someone say, the food was exceptional.

That's the moment he lives for. The validation that his craft, the hours, and the care that he gave all mattered. So before I left, he called me over and poured me a small glass of his homemade limoncello. And he was so proud to share something that he had made with me. And so what I learned from Mateo was about passion. And passion is often

quiet, it's devotion to doing one thing exceptionally well and the joy of seeing people respond to it.

Neighborhood coffee became my go-to spot in Lisbon. It was located in the ⁓ small little neighborhood called Grassa. And I spent ⁓ most of my time in that area. My Airbnb was in Grassa and I was fortunate to ⁓ find a very good family-owned restaurant ⁓ right below my apartment on the ground floor, ⁓

nice little pub tap house that was up against the retaining wall that you could look at over the city. The neighborhood coffee shop that I went to often. The pastry ⁓ place where I was able to purchase my pastel de nada. The supermarket, very simple, small supermarket. All of that was part of this neighborhood of Grassa and I so enjoyed staying there. And I did...

⁓ go as I said to the neighborhood coffee it became my go-to spot and over the days that I went there I got to know ⁓ a person named Toby and Toby was a host not a barista and he had come to Portugal because of Brexit you know he wanted to live and work in the EU ⁓ because of everything it stood for and Portugal offered

Him a path forward, you know his parents also left the UK and they settled in the Algarve But he and his girlfriend really wanted something different something more urban more city life and so they chose to settle there in in Lisbon and he told me that thanks to some some government incentives they were even able to buy a small house in Lisbon and something that He felt was completely out of reach back home You know

We talked about the similarities between Lisbon and San Francisco. I shared with him how I found the hills, the light, just the bridge and the various little neighborhoods very much like San Francisco. And ⁓ when we talked about that, he told me that this was a place, know, California and particularly San Francisco, he'd always wanted to go to and was hoping that someday he would. You know, what struck me was how he could clearly see

both places. He saw Lisbon as where his life is now that he's building and he saw California as a place that he imagined with curiosity and optimism. So what I learned from Toby was perspective. know, perspective expands when you choose to build your life somewhere new. I mean, you see very clearly your past, you see your present, and your possibilities much differently.

You know, Lisbon revealed itself to me through the people I met as much as the places I walked. My time there began and ended with the two women from Nepal, one serving my first meal at a small noodle house and the other serving my last breakfast at a quiet cafe. These were different women from different corners of the city, but both shared the same story. Their parents had come to Portugal first.

built a foundation and then brought the children to join them. Their presence reminded me that stability is often a generational effort and it's carried forward by quiet determination. Francisco, whom listeners met in part one, he showed me another side of Portuguese pride. Beyond the food tour, he talked about wanting to visit Macau, a place tied to Portugal's past, but he feared that the

cultural traces he cherished might have disappeared. And so his pride wasn't just nostalgic, it was a longing to see pieces of his identity reflected back to him even far from home. And then there was Mateo, whose restaurant I stumbled into on its four-year anniversary. The room was alive with celebration, and Mateo moved through it with the confidence of someone who poured himself into every detail.

He told me how he focuses on the food while his partner focuses on the service, how they make their own pizza dough and pasta, and how nothing means more to him than hearing someone say the food was exceptional. His passion was unmistakable. A devotion to a craft expressed plate by plate. And Toby's story stayed with me long after we said goodbye.

It was the kind of encounter that makes you pause and really feel a place. When I stepped back and looked at all the moments I had in Lisbon, a clearer picture of the city began to emerge. Now leaving Lisbon, I felt grounded by the people I'd met and the lessons they'd left with me. And as I arrived in Porto, it didn't take long before the city introduced itself in its own way. And that started with pre.

Now, Pri was one of the first people in Porto who made the city feel personal. She was kind and attentive and she really was generally invested in helping me experience the best of her city. You know, I still have the note she wrote for me. ⁓ It's a handwritten ⁓ little piece of paper with a sticker of her

restaurant called Mito and it was in her own handwriting. It was titled goodies in Porto by Pree and it had a smiley face. Now on this memo she listed two cafes, two places for lunch, two for wine and dinner and two for drinks. ⁓ This wasn't just a list. I mean it was was curated. It was thoughtful.

⁓ It was almost like she was handing me a small map to her favorite corners of the city. know, Pri also told me about the chef's approach at Mito. You know, she described how the chef found, or has a source, I guess, of a place where they have the old wine barrels. And I guess occasionally they

take the wine barrels and they shave off all the parts of the wine barrel that have soaked in the wine. And he takes those shavings and he uses them to roast certain dishes, ⁓ including the roasted carrot I had ordered, which was one of the most memorable bubble lights of the trip. It's just a fascinating ⁓ creative way that this chef, you know, adds real

⁓ unique character to the meals. know, ⁓ Pri lit up when she talked about food. ⁓ She wasn't just gonna recommend some places to me. She was actually sharing experiences and textures and techniques and the stories behind them. She cared about cuisine and that was distinctive, it was intentional, and it was rooted in her craft. So what I learned from Pri was purpose.

know, purpose often shows up in the way someone elevates the ordinary. You know, a handwritten note, you know, a thoughtful recommendation, a small detail about how a dish is made. These are all offered with hope that your experience will be just a little bit better.

I met Bart and Joanna in a hotel restaurant in Porto. Now, Bart is from the Netherlands and Joanna is from Portugal. They were visiting her family for the holidays and they were trying to decide which dessert to order. Now, this ⁓ small moment opened up a door to a long, easy conversation between us. We talked so much that the server

never actually came back to take their order. And so eventually Joanna ⁓ realized it. She laughed with her big broad smile and she looked at the time and said, ⁓ it's too late. Let's just skip dessert. So while she stepped away for a moment, Bart told me quietly that they were expecting their first child. When she returned, I congratulated them and it was it was nice to see the way they looked at each other. ⁓ It said everything. I mean, they were

really excited, they were hopeful, but they were also a little apprehensive imagining the life ahead of them. know, aware that the distance from family, the logistics, and all the choices that come, you know, with trying to raise a child from far from your home. There was something kind of tender about that moment. You know, two people on the edge of a new chapter, you know, navigating their cultures, their families, and obviously the future ahead. So what I learned from Bart and Joanna, it was possibility.

know, possibility often arrives quietly in the middle of an ordinary evening reshaping the future before you even realize it.

Now Bart and Joanna, they were seated to the left of me. And then to the right was Forrest and Evelyn. And they were sharing a meal that to me felt intentional. It almost seemed ceremonial. And their conversation had a quiet weight to it. And eventually I learned why. The next morning, they were leaving to begin an eight day walk along the way.

They told me about the pilgrimage, why people do it, what it means, and how it changes you. But what struck me the most was what they didn't know. They had no idea how far they would walk each day, where they would stay, or who they would meet. They were stepping into the unknown, where they kind of trust an openness that felt rare. Listening to them,

kind of stirred something in me. mean, the journey validated something about my own way of traveling. You the days in Lisbon and Porto when I had no agenda, I had no checklist. I just wanted to walk and absorb the city. Sometimes I covered 10 miles without even realizing it. Letting the streets, the light, the people shape the day. Letting the city reveal itself instead of me trying to control.

the experience. See, Forrest and Evelyn were doing that on a much larger scale, trusting the path, trusting the process, and trusting that meaning would emerge along the way. So what I learned from Forrest and Evelyn is pilgrimage. It isn't defined by distance. It's defined by intention, by choosing to move forward without needing all

The answers.

I first met Anastasia on my initial visit to a very good coffee shop. She was kind, but somewhat shy. You the sort of person who helps you quietly and then she slips back into the rhythm of the place. The next morning, after my run, a run I celebrated with a coffee because someone, yes, my AI companion, suggested I should. I went back.

And Anastasia was there again. And this time she opened up a bit more. She asked me if I was cold from running. Because I just came into the shop straight from running, I still had the shorts and it was a very cold morning. And that question, you know, led to a much bigger story. I learned about her journey from Ukraine to Porto and what it meant to start over.

in a new country. As we talked, I noticed the barista behind the counter glancing over, clearly wanting to join in. So I asked her a question, and that's how I met Anna. Now Anna is also from the Ukraine, and she also arrived in 2022, although she didn't arrive with Anastasia. Both of them, their English wasn't very strong, but their desire to connect was unmistakable.

They leaned in, they listened intently and they searched themselves for the right words and smiled when they found them. Now when I told them about my podcast and that I wanted to mention them, their faces lit up. They asked for the name of the podcast, they wrote it down very carefully and they seemed genuinely excited. Not just about being included in the podcast, but the idea that their stories matter to someone who was just passing.

So what I learned from Anastasia and Anna was perseverance. You know, it isn't always loud or dramatic. Sometimes it looks like two young women building a new life in a new language, finding connection wherever they could, and offering kindness to a stranger who simply stopped in for coffee.

And then there was Daniela. I met Daniela just a few minutes before grabbing an Uber to the airport. I finished breakfast, but I really wasn't very impressed with the coffee, so I went searching for something better.

And that's when I remembered that I had an app on my phone that I had downloaded from a recommendation from a barista in Spain who had recommended it. It's a guide to great coffee shops across Europe. And so at that moment, I opened it and there it was a place two blocks from where I was staying. I wish I had remembered it earlier because it would have saved me a ton of time looking for the coffee shops as I typically do. ⁓

But this one was exactly the kind of coffee shop I love. They roast their own beans. They source them from unique corners of the world. And so I went in to get my last coffee and Daniella was behind the counter. And we had only a brief conversation, but it was enough to learn her story. You see, she'd been a barista for 10 years in Columbia and really wanted to take her crap and go somewhere new.

And so she had tried multiple times to get a visa to the United States and failed. But Portugal opened its doors to Daniela. So she arrived two years ago and is doing exactly what she loves. She's making coffee, she's connecting with people, and she's building a life through her craft. Now this was a short encounter, but it was a meaningful one. It was a final reminder that just before leaving Porto of how many people are just

quietly pursuing the work that gives them purpose. What I learned from Daniela was pursuit. It isn't always dramatic. Sometimes it's a quiet, steady commitment to the things you love, even if it takes you halfway around the world. You know, with Daniela, my time in Porto came full circle. One last conversation, one last story.

one last reminder of how people shape a place. And when I looked back on all the encounters I'd had, a pattern emerged. You see, Porto unfolded for me not through its landmarks, but through the people who shaped my days there. You know, each encounter offered a different expression of presence, purpose, and possibility. Pree was the first to make the city feel personal.

At Mito, she handed me a small memo titled, goodies in Porto by Pree with a smiley face. A handwritten map of her favorite cafes, lunch spots, wine bars, and places for drinks. She spoke with pride about the chef's technique of roasting dishes over shavings from old oak wine barrels, including the roasted carrot that became one of my favorite bites of the trip. Her purpose was unmistakable.

She wanted people to experience Porto well, and she offered her knowledge with generosity and joy. Now, Bart and Joanna, they brought a different kind of energy. You know, it was that quiet excitement of expecting parents. We started talking as they debated dessert, but the conversation flowed so easily that they never got dessert. ⁓ When Bart told me they were expecting it and I congratulated them, their faces reflected ⁓

know, the hope and the awareness of raising a child far from family. You know, they really embodied to me the possibility, you know, a future unfolding ⁓ as new parents. Forrest and Evelyn were on the cusp of something more intentional. You know, they were leaving the next morning to walk the way for eight days with no idea how far they'd go each day, where they'd sleep, or who they'd meet.

You know, their pilgrimage validated something in me. The way I travel, with no agenda, walking 10 miles simply to feel a city's rhythm. They reminded me that meaning often emerges when you stop trying to control the journey. Then there was Anastasia and Anna, two young women from Ukraine who had arrived in Porto in 2022. I met them in a coffee shop.

Their English was limited, but their desire to connect was strong. They leaned in, searched for words and lit up when I told them about my podcast. Their perseverance was quiet, but powerful. Rebuilding a life, learning a language and finding connection wherever they could.

And finally, just before leaving Porto, I met Daniela, a Colombian barista who had spent 10 years mastering her craft. She had tried repeatedly to get a visa to the U.S., but Portugal was the one who opened its doors. She arrived two years ago and now works in a cafe that roasts its own beans from around the world. Our conversation was brief, but her story was clear. Pursuit matters. Following the work you love.

matters, even when the path is winding. Together, these encounters formed for me a portrait of Porto that was intimate, textured, and deeply human. It's a city revealed not by its architecture or its river, but by the people who welcomed me into their stories, each one carrying their own version of

purpose, possibility, pilgrimage, perseverance, and pursuit. As I look back on my time in Lisbon and Porto, what stays with me isn't the architecture or the food or the beautiful views, though all of those are remarkable. What stays with me are the people, the small unexpected encounters.

that revealed something about the cities and something about myself. In Lisbon, the city introduced itself through openness. People willing to share their stories, their struggles, their humor, and their hopes. Each encounter felt like a gentle invitation to slow down and to listen and to be present.

Porto had a different rhythm. It felt more intimate and more textured, more rooted in craft and perseverance. The people I met there, pre Bart and Joanna, Forrest and Evelyn, Anastasia and Anna, and finally Daniela, each offered a glimpse into what it means to build a life, to follow a calling, to trust a path even when it's uncertain. Porto revealed itself through purpose,

possibility, pilgrimage, perseverance, and pursuit. Together, these two cities reminded me of something simple but profound. Travel isn't about checking places off a list. It's about letting yourself be shaped by the people you meet along the way. It's about walking without a plan, listening without an agenda, and allowing meaning to emerge in its own time.

And maybe that's the real gift of this trip. Not just the stories I gathered, but the reminder that connection is everywhere if you're willing to notice it. So that was my time in Lisbon and Porto. Two cities that reminded me in their own ways that the world is still full of people willing to share a moment, a story or a small piece of themselves. And maybe that's the real reason we travel.

not just to see new places, but to be reminded of our own capacity for connection, curiosity, and presence. Thank you for coming along with me on this journey. Until next time, keep noticing the small things. They're often where the meaning lives.