As much as I love my life in Portugal, there are still things I miss about living in America. Not because life here is worse, but because it is different. And sometimes those differences show up in the most ordinary, unexpected moments.

Living abroad is not just about missing big holidays or family gatherings. It is the tiny, everyday things you do not even realize matter until they are suddenly gone. When people think about moving overseas, they rarely talk about the small comforts and conveniences that quietly shape their routine.

Foods and Drinks I Miss from Living in America

Mexican Food and New Mexican Green Chile

This one hurts a little.

In Las Vegas, good Mexican food was basically a personality trait. It was everywhere. Fast, casual, drive-through, hole in the wall, fancy. You could argue about who had the best salsa and then go test your theory immediately.

In Tavira, there are zero Mexican restaurants. Zero. There are a few scattered around the Algarve, but I have not found one that makes me want to declare it my emotional support taco spot. I have had genuinely good Mexican food in Aveiro and Lisbon, but that requires actual travel planning. Sometimes you just want tacos without a road trip.

I really miss pulling into Roberto’s drive-through and ordering carnitas tacos like it was a normal Tuesday ritual. That level of convenience spoiled me.

I can cook most of my favorites at home, and I do. But it is not the same as having endless variety at your fingertips. I also cannot buy giant packs of corn tortillas here, which feels like a personal attack, so now I make my own. And Hatch green chile? Forget it. I was born in New Mexico. I grew up putting green chile on everything. Eggs. Burgers. Pizza. Probably cereal if someone had dared me. I have yet to find it here, and realistically, I probably will not.

Of all the things I miss about living in America, this might be the most specific and the most nostalgic. Some cravings are not just about food. They are about where you come from.

Tacos at Un Poco Loco in Aveiro

Cider

I do not drink beer because gluten and I are not friends. Celiac said absolutely not. But hard cider? That is my lane, and oh, do I miss it so much.

Portugal has cider, but it is a short and predictable guest list. You can find Somersby and Bandida do Pomar pretty much everywhere. Kopparberg shows up sometimes. Every now and then, I stumble across a random one, and it feels like spotting a rare bird in the wild.

They are good. Totally drinkable. But I miss the variety in America. I miss walking into Total Wine and building a custom six-pack like I was curating a tiny, fizzy art collection. Mango, blackberry, and some seasonal thing with a label that looked like it was designed by a woodland elf. I miss breweries and bars with multiple ciders on tap, where you could do a little tasting flight and pretend you were very refined while drinking apple juice with ambition.

That said, Portugal does not exactly leave you thirsty. The wine selection here is ridiculous in the best way. If cider is my old reliable, Portuguese wine is my new adventure. I have happily traded cider flights for exploring different regions, grapes, and bottles that cost less than a fancy coffee used to.

Still, if I ever find a bar here with ten ciders on tap, I might cry a little. In a classy way.

Love me some Koppaberg

Mio and Water Enhancers

This one is so random but so real.

I love water enhancers. Mio had a permanent spot in my purse like lip gloss or a spare hair tie. I would add it to my water at the gym, in the car, on a plane. I have even been known to casually transform a vodka soda into something far more exciting with one discreet squeeze. Hydration, but make it fun.

I cannot find Mio anywhere here. I have searched. I have scanned shelves with hope in my eyes. Nothing.

I did find Bolero mixes, and they are actually really good. The flavors are solid. But you have to make a full pitcher. It is less “main character on the go” and more “organized adult with a refrigerator plan.” Which is fine. Responsible. Mature.

Still, I miss the tiny bottle convenience. Toss it in your bag and go. The ability to dramatically flavor your water anywhere, anytime, like a hydration wizard.

It is such a small thing, but it was part of my routine. And sometimes the smallest routines are the ones you notice the most when they disappear.

Shopping and Convenience

The One-Stop Shop Convenience

One thing I did not realize I would miss is the convenience of those giant everything stores. Target. Walmart. Sam’s Club. Costco. The places where you walk in for toothpaste and somehow leave with patio furniture and three seasonal candles.

That kind of one-stop shopping does not really exist here, at least not in the same way or with the same variety. I have adjusted, but I definitely miss being able to grab everything in one trip. Especially before we had a car. We were walking everywhere and could only carry so much at a time. It was humbling. It also made me realize how convenient and privileged my life in the U.S. really was.

The closest Costco is in Sevilla, about two hours away. We have gone a couple of times, but back in Vegas, we used to go a few times a month. My husband eats like he is training for something at all times, so stocking up on meat and staples made sense. Now, even when we drive to Sevilla, we are limited by my tiny car and our small refrigerator. There is no “buy in bulk and forget about it” lifestyle happening over here.

And I will admit it. I miss wandering around Target. Not because I need anything. Just because it is Target. If you know, you know.


Makeup Runs and Ulta Therapy

I love makeup. Not casually. Not “I have a mascara somewhere,” love. It has always been one of my favorite hobbies, and at one point, I genuinely dreamed of becoming a makeup artist. So the limited availability here has been an adjustment.

There are a few brands at Wells, but the in-store selection is small. There is a Sephora about 30 minutes away, but it is much smaller than what I was used to and does not carry all the same brands. I miss Ulta. I even miss wandering through Walgreens and discovering something random I did not plan on buying.

I can order from Amazon or BeautyBay, so it is not like I am completely deprived. But there is something about shopping for makeup in person. Swatching a lipstick. Comparing shades. Holding the product before committing. It was part of the experience.

At the same time, I do not have the storage space I used to, and I am trying to be more intentional about what I buy instead of accumulating things just because I can. So maybe it is not the worst shift in the world.

Amazon Prime Speed

We do have Amazon here in Spain, and yes, we have Prime. So technically, the convenience still exists. But it is not the same.

Most things take longer to arrive. There is no magical same-day delivery. No next morning box sitting at your door like a retail fairy stopped by overnight. And returns are not quite as effortless as the “print nothing, scan a code, walk away” system I was used to.

It is a small thing, but it is one of those modern luxuries you do not fully appreciate until it is gone. In the U.S., if I needed something random, I could have it at my door almost immediately. Here, I actually have to plan ahead. Revolutionary concept, I know.

It is not a deal breaker. It just requires a little more patience. Which, apparently, is the theme of living abroad.

Home and Comfort

My Big Refrigerator and Big Kitchen

American refrigerators are basically cold storage units with a light inside. The one here? Cute. Compact. Efficient. It minds its business.

Fridges in Portugal are much smaller, which means we only buy a couple of days’ groceries at a time. No massive Costco haul energy. No stocking up like we are preparing for a minor apocalypse. It is very European. Very practical.

The true heartbreak is ice cream related. I can only buy one pint at a time. One. Pint. No backup flavor waiting patiently in the freezer. No “emergency” cookie dough tucked behind frozen vegetables. It has forced restraint upon me, and I do not appreciate it.

But there is a bright side. Because we shop more often, everything we eat is fresher. Produce does not sit around. Leftovers do not get forgotten in the abyss. It has completely changed how we buy and cook food.

I also miss having a big kitchen with a giant island. I used to have space to spread out ingredients like I was hosting a cooking show no one asked for. Now everything is more compact and strategic.

However, here is the trade-off I did not expect to love: cleaning. Our apartment is smaller. The kitchen is smaller. I can clean the entire place in about two hours. Two. Hours. That alone feels like a gift. I really hate cleaning, so anything that shortens that process feels like winning at life.

Less space, less stuff, less scrubbing. I will take it.

Central Heating and Insulation

This one humbled me.

Our apartment is a little older, and winter here is not playing around. Buildings are made of concrete, not layers of wood and fluffy insulation like in the States. Concrete is great for a lot of things. Holding warmth is not one of them.

We have two wall heating units, but we try not to run them all day because electricity adds up fast. So winter basically turns into a layering competition. Sweatshirt. Fleece. Thick socks. Maybe another sweatshirt. I am almost always under at least one blanket. Sometimes two if I am feeling dramatic.

It is funny because people assume Portugal is warm all the time. Summer? Yes. Winter inside a concrete building? Character building.

That said, when the weather starts warming up, it is magic. We throw the windows open and let the breeze move through the apartment all day. No blasting AC. No sealed-up house. Just fresh air and sunshine drifting in like it owns the place.

So yes, I miss central heating. I miss being toasty without dressing like I am camping indoors. But I do love the months when the windows stay open, and the whole apartment feels alive again.

Clothes Dryer

I did not realize how attached I was to my big, loud, aggressively efficient American dryer until I no longer had one.

Laundry here is… a process. Things take forever to dry. Towels feel slightly crunchy. Clothes come out wrinkled like they have been through something emotionally complex. And the pet hair? It just clings with commitment. A dryer used to blast that right off. Now it lingers like it pays rent.

Air drying is the norm, and yes, I know it is better for your clothes. Fabrics last longer. Elastic survives. Things do not shrink in a moment of heat-fueled betrayal. Intellectually, I support it.

Emotionally, I miss throwing everything in the dryer and pulling out warm, soft laundry that felt like a hug.

I did find a wardrobe style dryer on Amazon that has helped a lot. It is not the same, but it speeds things up and makes winter laundry slightly less dramatic.

Like many things here, it requires more time and a little more patience. My clothes may be less fluffy, but apparently, they will last longer. Growth for all of us.

The Trade Off Is Worth It

These are just a handful of things I was used to in my previous life. Most of them fall into the category of convenience. Faster. Bigger. Easier. I am learning to adapt, and honestly, that has been part of the growth.

Yes, there are things I miss. Some days, I really miss them. But none of them are things I cannot live without, and definitely not enough to pack up and move back.

The benefits and positive changes in my life here outweigh every crunchy towel, small refrigerator, and delayed Amazon package. I love our life in Portugal. I am adjusting to everything, some things faster than others, but I would not trade this experience.

And of course, more than anything, I miss my friends and family. That is the real ache. Thank goodness for WhatsApp, voice notes, and group chats that never sleep.

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