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The plane door opens and the heat hits you like a wave—not just any heat, but that specific Lisbon August heat that feels like a warm hug you didn't know you needed. I'm Inês Carvalho, and this is the first episode of a journey I'm taking with you, but also for myself. I've just landed at Humberto Delgado Airport, and my plan for this first leg is simple: don't sightsee. Settle in. Get the paperwork done, find a place to live, and start to feel like this city might actually become home.

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The airport is chaos in the best way—everyone speaking Portuguese, Spanish, English, a dozen other languages. I grab a Viva Viagem card at the metro machine, that little reusable card that costs about 50 cents, and I load it with what they call Zapping credit. That's the pay-as-you-go system. A single ride on the metro or bus is around €1.66 to €1.72 with Zapping—roughly two dollars—and that's going to be my lifeline for the next few days. The metro itself is clean, efficient, and mercifully air-conditioned, which is a blessing because outside, it's 31 degrees and partly cloudy, but the sun feels like it's personal.

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My first task is the NIF, the Número de Identificação Fiscal, which is basically your tax number but also your key to everything here. You need it to rent a flat, open a bank account, even get a phone contract. For EU citizens, it's free at a Finanças office or a Loja do Cidadão. I'm not an EU citizen, so I had to pay around €10.20 and name a fiscal representative, which sounds more complicated than it is. It's just a person willing to be the contact point for tax matters. My friend Marta, who's been here for three years, volunteered. We went to the Loja do Cidadão in Arroios, and despite the notorious reputation for queues, we were out in under an hour. The paper stamp at the end was like the first official 'welcome to your new life' moment.

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Next up, the bank. I chose ActivoBank, the digital arm of Millennium BCP, because I'd heard it's fee-free and easy for non-residents. The branch in Chiado is on Rua do Ouro, and it's a beautiful space, all glass and light. With my passport, NIF certificate, and proof of address, I opened an account in about 30 minutes. The initial deposit was around €100, which is standard. They recommend installing MB WAY, Portugal's near-universal mobile payment app, and it's true—everyone uses it. I paid for my coffee this morning with a QR code from MB WAY, and it felt like I'd been here for years, not days. The bank is right near the Elevador de Santa Justa, that 1902 neo-Gothic lift that connects Baixa to the Carmo ruins, and I couldn't resist a quick glance up, but I told myself: no sightseeing yet.

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With the bank sorted, I needed a SIM card. I went to a Vodafone store on Avenida da Liberdade, and with just my passport, I got a prepaid SIM. The guy behind the counter spoke perfect English, which is great, but I'm determined to use my Portuguese, even if it's broken. Olá, tudo bem. He smiled. I paid about €20 for 20 gigabytes of data, and he reminded me that EU roaming is included, which is useful if I pop over to Spain later. The Portuguese number is essential, he said, for bank SMS verification and for booking things like doctor's appointments. That's something I'll need soon, because my healthcare registration is next on the list.

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Healthcare here is a bit of a maze, but I'm told it's worth it. You need your NIF, your residence registration, and then you can register with the local health centre, the centro de saúde. The registration is done at a Loja do Cidadão too, and then you get a user number, which is like your NHS number. The catch is that the residence registration, the one with AIMA, which replaced SEF in 2023, has a long backlog. I've heard stories of people waiting months. But for now, I have a temporary registration, and the lady at the Loja do Cidadão said I can use that to get a provisional user number. I'm hedging my bets and hoping it works.

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My flat is a temporary Airbnb in Alfama, the oldest district in Lisbon, a warren of narrow streets and laundry lines that tumble down from the Castelo de São Jorge to the Tagus. The rent for a modest one-bedroom in a residential area like Arroios or Benfica is around €1,200 to €1,600 a month, which has doubled since 2022. It's a lot, especially considering the national minimum wage is about €820 a month. But for now, I'm paying a nightly rate for this little apartment, and the view from my window makes me forget the cost. I can see the river, and if I lean out enough, the Miradouro de Santa Luzia, famous for its azulejo panels and bougainvillea.

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In the evening, I forced myself to do one thing: walk to a miradouro and watch the sun set. I chose Miradouro da Senhora do Monte, which is higher up, past the castle. The walk is steep, and by the time I got there, my legs were burning. But the view—the 360 degrees of terracotta rooftops, the river like a silver ribbon, the 25 de Abril Bridge in the distance—it was worth every step. There's a small café there, and I ordered a pastel de nata and a coffee. The tart was warm, the custard perfectly set, the pastry shattering in my mouth. It cost about €1.20 at a neighborhood bakery, but here with the view, it might have been €3. I didn't care. I sat there, listening to a guitarist strumming fado, and I felt my shoulders drop for the first time since I landed. This is why I came. Saudade is a word they use a lot here, a kind of melancholic longing, but sitting there, I felt its opposite: a contented presence.

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The next morning, I tackled transport. I need a Navegante pass. For residents, it's €30 a month for the municipal pass, which covers all buses, trams, and metro within Lisbon, or €40 for the metropolitan pass that goes further out, to Sintra and Cascais. I went to the Metro station at Baixa-Chiado, and with my NIF and proof of residence, I got my personalized card in the post a few days later. The woman at the counter, who reminded me of a strict but kind schoolteacher, explained that the pass is a physical card, not an app, and that I need to carry it with me, even though I'll rarely see a ticket inspector. I also picked up a map, trying to figure out the network. There's a green line, a blue line, a yellow line, and a red line, and each connects to a different part of the city. I'm told the blue line has a reduced weekend timetable in August for signaling tests, and the Cais do Sodré station will be closed from August 8th to 26th for works on the future Circular line. That's going to be a hassle, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

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For the morning's breakfast, I walked to a tiny café in Mouraria, the neighborhood next to Alfama, which is even more working-class and real. The café was called Café Social Eatery, and it's the kind of place where everyone knows each other. I ordered a bifana—spicy marinated pork in a crusty roll—for about €2.50, and a galão, which is like a latte. The owner, a man in his sixties, saw me struggling with my Portuguese and switched to English, but he laughed when I tried to order in Portuguese. 'You'll learn,' he said. 'This city teaches you.' I think he's right.

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Later, I wandered to the Mercado da Ribeira, which is right near the Cais do Sodré station. During the day, it's a food market with stalls selling everything from sushi to hamburgers, but there's a section that's a bit more traditional. I bought a piece of cheese and some figs, which are in season now, and I sat by the river, watching the ferry boats crisscross to the south bank. The ferries are part of the transit system, so my Zapping credit works on them, too. I haven't taken one yet, but I will. They go to places like Cacilhas and Seixal, which I've heard have great views of Lisbon's skyline.

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In the afternoon, I made a list of things to do in the next few weeks. The Jazz em Agosto festival at the Gulbenkian is running until August 9th, and I'm keen to catch a concert. There's the Operafest starting August 5th with a theme of 'Enigma' for the Puccini centenary, which might be too fancy for me. And of course, there's the food. I want to try a proper bacalhau à brás, the salt-cod dish with potato and egg, at a tasca where a prato do dia, a daily special, costs around €7 to €12 with a drink. That's a meal and a drink for less than a brunch in London.

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One evening, I met Marta for dinner at a place called Taberna Do Castelo, near the cathedral. It's a small, unpretentious spot with wooden tables and a menu that changes daily. We shared a plate of grilled sardines, which are everywhere in August, and a salad, and we each had a glass of wine. The bill came to about €25 each, which felt reasonable. Marta told me about the housing crisis, about the protests and the Mais Habitação package that's trying to cap short-term rentals. She's been here for three years, and she's already seen her rent go up twice. 'It's tough,' she said, 'but it's worth it.' I believe her.

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On my last day of this settling-in week, I took a tram. Not the famous Tram 28, which is packed with tourists and pickpockets, but a quieter one, the 12E, which loops around Alfama. I stood at the back, by the window, feeling the rattling, creaking, historic vehicle climb the hills. A woman with a shopping bag got off at a stop, an old man with a dog got on. The azulejo tiles on the buildings flashed past—blue and white patterns, sometimes more elaborate, sometimes just simple geometric shapes. The Museu Nacional do Azulejo is on my list, to properly learn the history of this tile art that defines the city. But not this week. This week was about the basics: the NIF, the bank, the transport pass, the SIM card, and the feeling of walking the same streets as a resident, not a visitor.

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I'm just starting to understand what this city demands and what it gives. The steep hills are a cardio workout, but they lead to miradouros with views that make you forget the climb. The bureaucracy is frustrating, but it's a rite of passage that ends with a little paper stamp that says you belong. And the food—the pastel de nata, the bifana, the grilled sardines—is the sweet, salty, simple reward after a day of forms and queues. Lisbon is not a place you visit; it's a place you live, one azulejo at a time. So for this first leg, I did what I came to do: I settled in. And as I sit in my little flat, listening to the parakeets squabble in the trees outside—yes, the monk parakeets, they sound like a tiny jungle—I feel like I've taken the first step of a long journey. Next stop, I'll continue this clockwise loop, heading down the coast when I'm ready. For now, I'm here, and that's enough. Até logo, for now.

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If you're thinking of making a move like this, or just planning a trip, let me tell you what a day costs. A coffee at a café is around €2.57. A pastel de nata, about €1.20. A lunch special, the prato do dia, €7 to €12. A monthly transit pass, €30 or €40. And the rent, well, that's the big one, but it's still cheaper than London or Paris. I'll put more details in the show notes. And if you have questions, I'm on Instagram at... Just search for the podcast. I'm still figuring out the exact handle. But yeah, reach out. Portugal is waiting, and it's a beautiful mess. Olá, and welcome to the journey.

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This is Inês, signing off from Lisbon. The city is quieting down for the night, and I think I'll do the same. Boa noite.