Today I was chatting with an online friend of mine who is from Portugal. At one point he had mentioned about Portugal being one of the top ten most depressed countries in Europe. I wasn't quite sure about that statement so I search it up. I found three site lists which doesn't include Portugal in the list, so we had an argument (not really an argument, we were just trying to prove a point). He send me this link to a website article written by an American, which gave me more insights about Portugal.
In Portugal, no one tells you to have a nice day. No one particularly cares if you have a nice day, because chances are they’re not having a nice day either. If you ask a Portuguese person how they’re doing, the most enthusiastic reply you can expect is mais ou menos (so so).
Portugal’s culture of melancholy is hard to miss. You see it etched on people’s sombre expressions – this is no Thailand, known as the Land of Smiles – and even in the statues that occupy prime real estate in Lisbon’s public squares. In most countries, the men (and it’s almost always men) honoured in such places are macho generals. In Portugal, it’s moody poets.
Yes, Portugal is a sad land, ranking 93rd of 157 countries (just behind Lebanon), according to the UN’s latest World Happiness Report. But don’t pity the Portuguese. They’re content with their discontentment, and, in an odd but enlightening way, actually enjoy it. It’s easy to assume that the Portuguese are masochists, but if you spend some time here, as I did recently, you quickly realize that the Portuguese have much to teach us about the hidden beauty, and joy, in sadness.
Portugal’s “joyful sadness” is encapsulated in a single word: saudade. No other language has a word quite like it. It is untranslatable, every Portuguese person assured me, before proceeding to translate it.
Saudade is a longing, an ache for a person or place or experience that once brought great pleasure. It is akin to nostalgia but, unlike nostalgia, one can feel saudade for something that’s never happened, and likely never will.
At the heart of saudade lies a yawning sense of absence, of loss. Saudade, writes scholar Aubrey Bell in his book In Portugal, is “a vague and constant desire for something... other than the present.”
It is possible to feel saudade for anything, publisher Jose Prata told me over lunch one day at Lisbon’s bustling Cais do Sodre market. “You can even feel saudade for a chicken,” he said, “but it has to be the right chicken.”
At the heart of saudade lies a yawning sense of absence, of loss
What makes saudade tolerable, pleasant even, is that “it is a very sharable feeling,” Prata explained. “I’m inviting you to share at the table of my sadness.” In Portugal, that’s a big table with room for everyone. In fact, a Portuguese chef has even started a line of chocolate called “Saudade”. Naturally, it is bittersweet.
In the end, we didn't have a conclusion of whether Portugal is in the top 7 most depressed country or not. We didn't continue either, because we both got distracted by other topics. But hey, at least we get to understand more about Portuguese and their beauty of sadness. And I have to agree, sadness is, indeed a beauty.
In Portugal, no one tells you to have a nice day. No one particularly cares if you have a nice day, because chances are they’re not having a nice day either. If you ask a Portuguese person how they’re doing, the most enthusiastic reply you can expect is mais ou menos (so so).
Portugal’s culture of melancholy is hard to miss. You see it etched on people’s sombre expressions – this is no Thailand, known as the Land of Smiles – and even in the statues that occupy prime real estate in Lisbon’s public squares. In most countries, the men (and it’s almost always men) honoured in such places are macho generals. In Portugal, it’s moody poets.
Yes, Portugal is a sad land, ranking 93rd of 157 countries (just behind Lebanon), according to the UN’s latest World Happiness Report. But don’t pity the Portuguese. They’re content with their discontentment, and, in an odd but enlightening way, actually enjoy it. It’s easy to assume that the Portuguese are masochists, but if you spend some time here, as I did recently, you quickly realize that the Portuguese have much to teach us about the hidden beauty, and joy, in sadness.
Portugal’s “joyful sadness” is encapsulated in a single word: saudade. No other language has a word quite like it. It is untranslatable, every Portuguese person assured me, before proceeding to translate it.
Saudade is a longing, an ache for a person or place or experience that once brought great pleasure. It is akin to nostalgia but, unlike nostalgia, one can feel saudade for something that’s never happened, and likely never will.
At the heart of saudade lies a yawning sense of absence, of loss. Saudade, writes scholar Aubrey Bell in his book In Portugal, is “a vague and constant desire for something... other than the present.”
It is possible to feel saudade for anything, publisher Jose Prata told me over lunch one day at Lisbon’s bustling Cais do Sodre market. “You can even feel saudade for a chicken,” he said, “but it has to be the right chicken.”
At the heart of saudade lies a yawning sense of absence, of loss
What makes saudade tolerable, pleasant even, is that “it is a very sharable feeling,” Prata explained. “I’m inviting you to share at the table of my sadness.” In Portugal, that’s a big table with room for everyone. In fact, a Portuguese chef has even started a line of chocolate called “Saudade”. Naturally, it is bittersweet.
In the end, we didn't have a conclusion of whether Portugal is in the top 7 most depressed country or not. We didn't continue either, because we both got distracted by other topics. But hey, at least we get to understand more about Portuguese and their beauty of sadness. And I have to agree, sadness is, indeed a beauty.
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