Far from home.

Portugal is a very strange little country. I never had imagined it could be so different, yet in a few way is similar to what I expected. Sometimes during the day I have to pinch myself as a way to wake myself up to make sure this is actually happening. I sit quietly in the classroom where my peers blab on and on in sharp cutting sounds and words that I can only distinguish slightly, never fully absorbing the words in a natural state of understanding. I am an estrangeira, and an obvious one at that. Maybe it is just in my head, because wherever I go in the back of my head rests the knowledge that I am foreign. If walking down the street, most assume I am not American, as ethnically I do not look very different from everyone else. A little paler, but it is not altogether uncommon. Soon the feeling will fade as I am so new to the place.

I am not homesick, at least not yet. There are, of course, things that I miss, such as the fruit loop, coffee at night, brunches at my favorite french restaurant, and even spending hours reading books at barnes & nobles. and of course, many of the people I left behind. Being here makes me realize how different people really are. Not just on the exterior, but deep within us all. What we value, what we accept, how we express emotion, what we think is important in life. It's just so different.

The lifestyle in Portugal is very slow paced. I knew this prior to my arrival, but it really translates into everything they do. They are slow to rise in the morning, walking slowly throughout the day to get to their desired destinations, spending lots of time on meals and such. In fact, they spend most of the day preparing lots of food, which usually includes all the family members at the table. The constant family interaction has been the one of the main difficulties for me. Coming from the US, it was a strange concept to me to even think about spending so much time with the whole family. Especially since I am not even blood related. It still remains a struggle for me to connect with those surrounding me, as my language skills are pretty much that of a precocious seven year old. Although I usually just mumble a bit and it gets me by. For now.

Another one of the major cultural differences that I am crazy not fond of are....the beijinhos. As much fun as it is to air kiss everyone on the cheeks, including tons of people I don't actually know, I quite detest it. It seems I can never get it right, and have yet to feel completely confident and comfortable at every greeting. I end up smashing my head into the other person's nose or nearly kissing someone's ears. I have yet to master it, although I would kill for a hug about now. so HUGS TO EVERYONE.

Those who must not be named?

The Hipster.

Hah. Oh those ‘hipsters’ as I hear them being called. Who exactly are these people?

I see them. Many places I go, in fact, as I watch their ray ban-clad faces and messy heads rush past me. Many travel in packs, small packs of two or three. They are typically young, but that is beside the point.

Their headbands squash the circumference of their heads, looking halfway between a tennis player from the eighties and a member of the Woodstock community. Dishevelment is not too far off; at least it seems that way to the outside world. You know, the world that takes regular showers and washes clothes.

I did not know who or what a hipster was in slightest before I heard the term. True, I noticed these people and the way they dressed, behaved, and carried themselves. They were like each other in so many ways I found it hard to be unconscious of it all. I did not realize that they were becoming a distinct culture.

The hipster is what it is: a conundrum. Defined as the definition of something that refuses to be defined. In some ways a hipster is the interpretation of the current youth. Without it, we might not have an intact idea of how our generation looked as a whole.

Their music influences them, like every subculture. Their genres range, yet are likely to include forms of electro-pop dance numbers and much independent music. They are the party types, and their music helps lead the way.

What makes a hipster? Is it a choice on the behalf of oneself or is it merely by accident that one becomes what is known as a hipster?

Some find that they are accused of being one, and realize they are in fact a ‘hipster’ without ever trying to look a certain way particularly. Others pick it up through lack of originality, depending on others to define how they should look. Some like the look and copy it. Then there are the few who just enjoy shopping at hipster venues, without really soaking up the hipster culture. Therefore these may look like hipsters on the outside, but are not truly to be considered hipsters.

Although hipsters will never admit they are hipsters, deep down they know that they are part of a legitimate trend or ‘look’. It is the sense of belonging that comes with being a hipster. A quick way out of having to deal with finding yourself or creating yourself originally. However, being the conundrum that it is, when one tries to be original, it may very well end up looking quite the opposite and thus defeating the purpose. By being different, they end up looking somewhere along the lines of well, everyone else. Attaching onto the hipster culture is their way of feeling established in a certain community. This is not necessarily a bad thing, as by human nature we feel the need to be accepted.

Nevertheless, the hipster is only human. We must learn to love them for what they are. Which we can probably distinguish from their various talking-tee-shirts anyway.