I often wonder: do we “snif culture” by discovering a country’s past because knowing the past of a country mean you also understand its present? And does that make being in that country more fun?

Sometimes it helps. Understanding India’s colonial history explains some of its hierarchy today. Knowing the Dutch Golden Age tells you why we’re still a little smug about our “global outlook.”

But mostly, the present is far messier than the past can explain. I don’t think most travellers are after understanding. They want a feeling. Something they can photograph, eat, or post. And if I’m honest, so do I. I may have come here for work — to write, to plan, to think — but underneath that is also a search for a feeling. A quieter kind of inspiration. The kind you can’t plan or book, but that somehow finds you when you are open enough to notice it. Which is why I always go to the local hairdresser. There’s something about sitting in that chair, hearing the language, watching the small rituals, and getting a haircut or blow-dry that makes me look like a local. That makes me feel for a moment like I belong there.

Nevertheless, landmarks do have their moments.

Driving from the airport to the hotel, seeing the Águas Livres Aqueduct, built in the 18th century to bring fresh water into Lisbon. It survived the earthquake of 1755 that levelled most of the city. Even now, its arches rise over the valley, steady and unbothered by the passing of time, despite being almost three hundred years old today.

I think that is culture too. The way something built centuries ago still shapes a place, not by shouting, but by staying. By holding the city together in ways you don’t always see, but feel.

And that is why, looking up from the back seat of a taxi, I smiled. And I knew Portugal would give me the inspiration I was hoping for.