I was born in Portugal, in Barreiro, an industrial town near Lisbon on the Tejo River—a dormitory city where most people commuted into the capital. While it was a busy place, my fondest childhood memories are of long summers in the countryside. Like many families after the fall of the dictatorship, my parents had moved from rural regions to the city, but we never lost our connection to the land. Every summer, my brother and I returned to Alentejo or Beira Alta to stay with our grandparents while our parents worked.

I’ve always looked outward. Maybe it was English-language media or simple curiosity, but I was drawn to the world beyond Portugal. A one-week English course in Oxford when I was 15 left a lasting impression—it just clicked. Years later, while studying at university in Portugal, I discovered a design course in Treforest, near Pontypridd. Friends already there encouraged me to apply, so I did—never imagining I’d end up building my life in Wales.

My girlfriend at the time, now my wife, came with me. We studied graphic and web design and decided to stay. Wales felt familiar: a small country with a big heart, living beside a larger neighbour. Its sense of identity, history, and resilience resonated deeply with me.

We’ve now been here for over 20 years. After graduating, I found work quickly, but when we had our first child, childcare costs were overwhelming—one full salary just to cover nursery. So we took a leap and started our own design agency, Haum, working together from home. Our values—sustainability, honesty, ethics, transparency—shape everything we do. No corporate fluff, just meaningful work. We’ve been doing it for over 12 years, mostly through word of mouth.

Life here has been good. Adapting was easy, though Brexit shook me and made me question whether this was still the place to be. In the end, I realised people hadn’t changed—only the noise around them. What truly anchors me to Wales is that both my children were born here.

This summer, after two decades, I became a British citizen. On paper and in spirit, I’m now Welsh. Diolch yn fawr.

My children attend a Welsh-medium school, I’m learning the language myself, and we volunteer locally. We try to give back to the community that’s given us so much. Life here is calm, uneventful in the best possible way. It’s home.

There have been frustrations, of course. One of the hardest has been trying to secure a passport for our eldest child, born here but caught in years of bureaucratic limbo due to outdated rules about “treaty rights.” We’re trying again now, after recent legal changes. Hopefully, third time lucky.

There are cultural differences too—education works differently here—but I appreciate that it gives my children more freedom to explore their interests. What I miss most about Portugal is the sun, the warmth, and especially family. We built our life here alone, without the support network others take for granted. We return every summer, but the longing remains—the saudade, or as I’ve learned here, the hiraeth.

And the food. Portugal may not be famous for its cuisine, but it’s incredibly varied—and yes, we eat a lot of fish. Every visit home is a sensory reconnection: smells, flavours, memories.

Over time, I’ve noticed how similar Wales and Portugal feel. Both are small countries with strong identities, often overshadowed by larger neighbours. I admire how Wales has reclaimed its language and culture after long suppression—it’s inspiring. That quiet resistance gives the country its soul.

Even Cardiff feels more like a town than a city. You can walk from busy streets into woodland in minutes. One weekend you’re at the beach in Penarth, the next hiking Pen y Fan. Pembrokeshire, the Gower, New Quay—these places still take my breath away. The warmth and openness of the people feel familiar too. Wales made sense straight away.

Of course, there are parallels in the challenges. Wages here are lower than in England, much like Portugal compared to Spain. But one major difference is mindset. Here, there’s more freedom to change direction, to start again. When we arrived, education was affordable, support existed, and starting a business felt possible. That openness mattered.

I didn’t leave Portugal because I had to. I left because I wanted something different. You could call me a cultural migrant. I came to explore another way of living, and Wales offered me that.

Migration isn’t one story—it’s thousands. Most people don’t come to take; they come to build, to contribute, to grow. Migrants add value. They bring perspective, creativity, and resilience. Patriotism, to me, isn’t about fear or exclusion—it’s about progress.

Sharing stories like mine matters because the personal is political. I didn’t come here to make a statement; I came to live my life. But in doing so, I’ve learned that changing narratives starts with being heard.

What I’ve found in Wales is a place that feels like home—not because it’s perfect, but because it’s real. A small country, with a big heart.