There comes a point in every expatriate American's life when someone back home sends you a news article and you simply stare at your phone for several seconds before putting it face down on the table, not because you are shocked exactly, because that stage may have passed some time ago, but because you are trying to decide whether you have enough emotional energy to find out what happened this time.
Was it tariffs, immigration, another executive order, another court challenge to the executive order, a disagreement with Canada, a disagreement with Europe, a disagreement with Canada because Canada was talking to Europe, or has somebody finally decided that the Atlantic Ocean sounds suspiciously foreign and ought to be renamed the Freedom Pond?
For many Americans living in Portugal, watching US politics has become a very strange spectator sport. You still care, obviously. Your family may still be there, your friends may still be there, your taxes may still be there, and half your online accounts are probably still insisting on sending verification codes to a US mobile number you stopped using three years ago. But there is also something deeply surreal about sitting in Portugal with a coffee, watching the latest headline appear on your phone and quietly thinking, "Surely this cannot possibly be real," before discovering that yes, once again, it absolutely can.
Donald Trump's second administration has certainly not embraced boredom. Every week seems to arrive with a new storyline involving tariffs, immigration, executive orders, court battles, federal agencies, Canada, Europe, or some energetic combination of all of the above. American politics now feels less like politics and more like a group chat with no admin, where somebody says something outrageous, somebody else leaves, three people start arguing, a lawyer gets added, Canada reacts badly, and by morning there are 438 unread messages and a new tariff.
The Lake Situation
There was even the decision to rename Lake Ontario as Lake America by executive order, because apparently the lake was the problem. I personally had it quite low on my list of international emergencies, but clearly I lack strategic vision. What do I know? I'm just a Nurse! I imagine a room in Washington where people were discussing the economy, immigration, infrastructure and foreign policy before somebody slowly raised a hand and said, "The lake," at which point everyone fell silent because finally the real issue had been identified. The order applies to US federal usage and, unsurprisingly, Canada has not suddenly agreed that Lake Ontario has ceased to exist.
Frankly, I am now nervous for every body of water with an insufficiently patriotic name, so Portugal might want to keep a low profile.
Tariffs as Punctuation
Tariffs, meanwhile, appear to have become both an economic instrument and a form of punctuation. Disagree? Tariff. Buy something from the wrong place? Tariff. Canada being too Canadian? Tariff. At this rate I am expecting a 20% import duty on passive aggression, which, to be fair, would absolutely destroy a country like Britain.
Perhaps the strangest part of watching all of this from abroad is how quickly the extraordinary becomes ordinary. A headline that would once have dominated the news for a week now survives half a day before something newer, stranger and somehow louder arrives to replace it. You read one article and think, "Surely this is peak absurdity," only to discover there is, in fact, considerably more mountain.
The View From Portugal
For Americans who have moved to Portugal, that distance can feel almost medicinal. Not indifference, just distance. You can care deeply about your country without allowing every political notification to crawl directly into your nervous system before breakfast.
Portugal helps with this. Portugal has sunshine, cafés, long lunches and bureaucracy that appears to have been designed several centuries ago and lovingly preserved for heritage purposes. You bring a document, they tell you it is the wrong document, you return with another document, they tell you they actually needed the first one after all, you go home, you come back Tuesday, and somehow life continues.
Nobody has renamed the Tejo River Freedom overnight. Nobody has imposed a tariff on your pastel de nata. Nobody has announced at 2 a.m. that your residence card now requires constitutional review. You may need three appointments, four stamps and one person called Teresa who only works mornings certain days of the week, and never the same ones, but eventually the system moves. Slowly, very slowly, almost offensively slowly, but it moves.
A Word About November
And while we are discussing political distance, a small reminder to our American clients abroad: the US midterm elections are on 3 November 2026, so if you are eligible to vote from Portugal, make sure you know what you need to do in good time. Do it for all of us watching it all unfold with the same worry you have.
You may also have noticed President Trump's proposal for a $5,000 payment to every American adult if Republicans retain control of Congress. Five thousand dollars. Subtle. Nurse Patience would merely point out that this is a campaign proposal, not a cheque currently sitting somewhere with your name on it. It would require congressional approval, and Reuters estimates that paying it to roughly 240 million adults would cost around $1.2 trillion.
So vote according to your own views, priorities and judgement, and perhaps do not let any single campaign promise make the decision for you. Democracy is complicated enough without mentally spending the money before polling day.
For our American clients watching everything unfold from this side of the Atlantic, we see the screenshots, the "Have you SEEN this?" messages and the increasingly exhausted "you cannot make this up" comments.
Yes. Unfortunately, we have seen it too.
Nurse Patience's advice is therefore simple: stay informed, vote if you are eligible, stop before you find yourself doom-scrolling constitutional law at midnight, go outside, have lunch, and remember why you moved to Portugal in the first place. If required, add wine or anything alcoholic you fancy.
This is not a formal clinical recommendation, but Nurse Patience feels very strongly about it. Desperate times, desperate measures, right?
And if anyone wakes up tomorrow to discover that the Tejo has officially become the Donald J. Trump River of Freedom and Very Excellent Water, Serenity will issue further guidance.
Possibly from Spain.