Finding Home in Spain and Portugal

The unexpected moments that reminded me of India

Spain and Portugal had been on my wish list for years.

Like many travelers, I had seen the photographs. The grand plazas, centuries-old churches, colorful streets, flamenco dancers, and dramatic coastlines. I had imagined what it would be like to wander through these historic cities and experience a small piece of Europe for myself.

So when Melvin and I finally set off for Seville and Lisbon, I was excited.

We dropped our bags at the Airbnb and headed out to explore.

The heat hit us the moment we stepped outside. Not the gentle warmth many people imagine when they think of Europe. Real heat. The kind that slows

your pace, sends you searching for

shade, and makes you understand why entire cultures adapt their lives around the weather.

It reminded me immediately of Indian summers. The shaded courtyards. The narrow streets designed to stay cooler. The understanding that sometimes nature decides the timetable, not us.

The streets were buzzing. People lingered over coffee, conversations spilled out of cafés, and life seemed to unfold at a slower pace.

It was exactly the kind of European street scene I had hoped to find.

I expected beautiful architecture, old churches, cobblestone streets, and centuries of history.

I found all of it.

In fact, much of it was even more spectacular than I had imagined.

As we wandered through Seville, I found myself constantly looking up. At first, it was the scale that impressed me. Then it was the details.

Arches framed by arches. Delicate carvings cut into stone. Geometric patterns repeated over and over again. Decorative borders that seemed to run endlessly across walls and doorways. The buildings felt less like structures and more like works of art.

I began noticing elements that felt strangely familiar. Not identical to what I had seen in India, but familiar enough to make connections. The Islamic influences woven through parts of Spain and Portugal reminded me of architecture I had admired in Delhi and other parts of India. It was the attention to detail that struck me most.

Someone had designed every arch.

Someone had carved every pattern.

Someone had stood on scaffolding hundreds of years ago and worried about details that people would still be admiring centuries later.

Looking at those buildings, I found myself thinking about the craftsmen as much as the architecture itself.

The streets were fascinating.

When I managed to lower my gaze from the intricate architecture down to the streets, there were another hundred questions. One of them was - How did those narrow doors lead to all that space behind? My feeble math and understanding of space just wasn't adding up.

We enjoyed trying new things out. New food, new methods of transport. Learning about the history. and then... we couldn't come to Spain and not do this!

Then there was Lisbon.

Historically, Lisbon was fascinating too. Mosteiro dos Jerónimos, the famous monatery here, was commissioned by King Manuel I in 1501, at the height of Portugal's Age of Discovery.

Just a few years earlier, in 1498, Vasco da Gama had successfully sailed from Portugal around Africa to India. That voyage changed world history. For the first time, Europe had a direct sea route to India, opening vast trade networks and bringing enormous wealth into Portugal.

This monastery was built partly to celebrate that achievement and partly as a thank-you offering for the success of Portugal's voyages.

I asked Chat GPT why the roads were so narrow and learned Lisbon is a patchwork of different eras. While parts of Lisbon were carefully planned after the 1755 earthquake, many older neighborhoods date back to medieval times when streets were designed for horses, pedestrians, and small carts, never modern traffic. Fascinating to realize we were walking on the same roads that were used in medieval times!

Lisbon has a different vibe. Celebratory. Alive. Interesting. Laundry hangs from balconies above narrow lanes. Elderly people sit outside their homes watching the world go by. Small neighborhood shops spill onto the sidewalks. People walk, talk, linger, and live their lives in public.

It felt strangely familiar.

Not because it looked like India.

But because it felt lived in.

In many modern cities, life happens behind closed doors. Here, much like in India, life seemed to happen out in the open. Conversations drifted from windows. Neighbors knew one another. Streets felt less like roads and more like extensions of people's homes.

I absolutely loved the tram tour. So quaint, peaceful and such a great way to see, and hear, about the city.

Then there was bargaining.

A skill I had almost forgotten!

In a small shop in Lisbon run by an Indian gentleman, I picked up a few things and asked the price.

He smiled and said, "Just for you, ma'am, I'll give you a good price." Without thinking, I slipped into Hindi. He answered in Hindi. And suddenly I was no longer just a tourist in Portugal. I was transported back to India.

The bargaining was rusty. The rhythm wasn't quite what it used to be. But it was still there, tucked away somewhere, waiting to be rediscovered.

Then there was the afternoon in Lisbon that caught me completely by surprise.

Melvin and I were sitting on a quaint cobblestone street, slowly working our way through a plate of risotto, when he looked up and said, "Listen to that." I smiled because I already was. Without even realizing it. Somewhere down the street, a small group of people were walking and singing bhajans.

One moment I was sitting in Portugal eating risotto. The next, I was transported to temple processions, festivals, evening prayers, and a thousand ordinary moments from home.The sound drifted through the narrow lanes and echoed softly off the old buildings.

And just like that, I was home.

What struck me later was how quickly it happened. No conscious comparison. No deliberate memory. Just a sound carried on the air that traveled thousands of miles in an instant.

Travel often allows us new adventures. This trip certainly did. I think I took more pictures of the streets and the architecture than I did of us.

I saw extraordinary architecture, wandered through centuries of history, ate wonderful food, listened to flamenco, and explored cities I had dreamed of visiting for years. But what stayed with me most were the unexpected reminders of home.

A familiar arch. A conversation in Hindi. A rusty attempt at bargaining. The sound of bhajans floating down a cobblestone street.

None of those moments were part of the itinerary. Yet those are the moments I remember very clearly. Perhaps that is one of the gifts of travel. We set out to discover new places and new cultures, only to discover pieces of ourselves along the way.

Somewhere between Lisbon and Seville, Europe showed me something I never expected.

A little taste of India too.  I even got my Hindi fix in! Till next time, até a próxima, Lisboa. And obrigado.