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Before going to Portugal, I wasn't sure what I wanted for myself. At the airport my hands were shaking and I kept asking my father if I was making the right decision. Don't know how he didn't lose his patience, but he looked at me, eyes wide open, and said "How would I know? You have to find out by yourself." So I took his advice, got on the plane and found out by myself. No, it wasn't that easy. Moving to an unknown place is as scary as it seems, but I had myself and that was enough already. Although it all seemed unreal, when the plane landed in Lisbon it all hit me. Everything was new and I was all alone, but I wasn't going to let the next five months go to waste. The first day there, even with a killer jetlag, I decided to explore the streets of that wonderful city. I walked around Baixa-Chiado, where I would spend my happiest days (but I didn't know it by then) and could already feel the love and warmth of sunny Lisbon. I didn't quite know where I was going, but I kept walking. Past Luis de Camões square, walking by Cais do Sodré station, I ended up at Time Out market, a wonderful food court full of life and well, food. But not just any food, it was good food. No, not good food, GREAT food. The type of food you never forget about. I still haven't gotten over the taste of pastel de nata at Manteigaria, melting in my mouth, that sugary flavour. After that amazing moment with amazing food, I decided to take an Elétrico (the trains that take you most places around the centre of the city. Very vintage, may I add) all the way to Belém. Everything was just like the postcards they sell tourists at the little shops, with the tower and the monument looking over Tejo river and the other side of the bridge. It was still summer and the sun was hitting every spot in just the right way. I knew, at that moment, I was where I should be, on the postcard city I have always dreamt about visiting. The days weren't always colorful, nor always sunny. I missed my family, I missed my friends from home, I missed the messy and beautiful Rio de Janeiro. Even though I felt sad sometimes, it was nothing compared to the days I would just walk around, savouring the streets, the food, the smell (and I swear, it had a particular smell) of Lisbon. When I think of that time in my life, I think of bright colors and dramatic music, like a movie scene that is Oscar-worthy. At night, after classes, me and my new-found friends would go to Bairro Alto. There, you can find all the drinks you can possibly think about and people from all around the world. Bairro Alto, and I can not stress this enough, is one of the most exotic places in Lisbon, with its tiny houses with clothes hanging from the windows, like a quiet place that wakes up back to life at night, just like its visitors. It is, indeed, a place for all. I would dance under the flags hanging on a line, moving with the wind together with the lights as if it was always Christmas time. I got to know these places like the palm of my hand, like I have been there all my life and had taken the time to memorize all its quirks and perks. I knew where I was going, where I was headed, it wasn't a mystery to me, it had become home. I had my favourite place to get comfort food, my favourite restaurant (that wasn't so expensive, since I was a college student living on Euro), my favourite spot in town and my favourite thing to do on a Friday night. I was safe, I was good. Without even noticing, I had taken my fathers advice to heart.