Portugal

If your only exposure to Portugal is via the fly & flop tourism industry, it's easy to mistake it for something smaller than it is: A quiet afterthought to Spain, a convenient weekend city break, a collection of coastal resorts for pasty northern Europeans chasing the sun.

Sure, the Algarve has its beach resorts, but so does half of Europe. Head further west, past the resorts, and you’ll find something wilder—the cliffs of the Costa Vicentina, where Atlantic waves batter the shore and sleepy villages still exist for their own sakes, not simply as a backdrop for tourism. Inland, the Alentejo stretches in slow, golden undulations, a land of cork forests and whitewashed towns where the pace of life is unhurried, even by Portuguese standards.

Lisbon, for all its overtourism, remains a city worth understanding. Beyond the hilltop viewpoints and tram-rattled streets of Alfama, there’s the faded grandeur of Estrela, the creative undercurrents of Marvila, the old docks repurposed into some of the country’s best restaurants. A decade ago, it was a place of crisis; today, it’s a case study in reinvention, though not without cost—gentrification has pushed many locals out, and tourism dominates the economy more than ever.

Porto, more compact and often described as Lisbon’s scruffier sibling, has a different energy—rain-slicked streets, deep shadows, a rawness that still feels untouched by mass tourism in places like Bonfim and Miragaia. The port lodges across the river in Vila Nova de Gaia are obligatory, but there’s more to the city’s drinking culture than that—tiny backstreet bars pouring vinho verde, traditional tabernas where the menus haven't changed in decades.

Further north, past Braga and into Minho, Portugal reveals yet another side of itself: lush, green, often misty. This is where some of its best walking routes lie, following old Roman roads through valleys where stone villages cluster around centuries-old churches. The Serra da Estrela, further east, offers even wilder landscapes—Portugal’s highest peaks, remote mountain trails, and one of the few places where you can find snow in winter.

And everywhere, food—deeply regional, proudly local. The slow-cooked, coriander-heavy stews of the Alentejo have little in common with Porto’s francesinha, that gloriously excessive sandwich drowned in sauce. The seafood of the west coast is as good as anywhere in Europe, but inland, it’s all about simplicity—grilled meats, salt cod in its many forms, soups rich with garlic and olive oil.

That's the thing about Portugal. It may be one of Europe's oldest nation states but, just like the rest of us, it's still figuring itself out. Still shifting, still resisting easy definitions. Just make sure you come and see the country for what it is, and not merely what the package tourism industry wants to push on you.