Berkley Center

Standing in the crowded Eléctrico 28 last week, I collided with the passengers around me as we traversed the steep, winding streets between Rossio and Estrela. While Lisbon’s nineteenth century tram system had once been a novelty to me, I couldn’t wait to exit the streetcar that day and stand in a space not filled with the awes and iPhones of excited tourists. When we finally reached the top of the hill, I exited disgruntled and began my walk home.

While I walked, I thought about the frustration of my afternoon in the context of the three weeks I had already spent in Portugal, and I came to a realization—my life in Lisbon was incredibly easy. Unlike my study abroad experiences in the Arab world, I enjoyed nearly every comfort in Portugal that I did at home: I could take a taxi without first haggling with the driver over the fare; I could shower in the afternoon without risking second degree burns; I could even order bacon in a restaurant without having to worry that the substance I would receive is a blend of less commonly used cow organs. As my walk came to an end and I entered my apartment, I thought Portugal might never present me with challenges like Egypt, Morocco, and Oman had previously done. I thought, perhaps, that a semester in Lisbon would be just too easy. But as soon as I took my seat in a Portuguese classroom on the following day, I realized I had thought wrong.

“História de Portugal Contemporâneo,” I watched the professor write on the board as my first direct enrollment course began. While I had never particularly enjoyed history courses in the past, I wanted to learn as much as I could about the country I would call home for the next four months. A class on Portuguese history, I thought, would be a great opportunity to work toward my goal. However, not long after the professor turned around and began to address the class, I started to question the validity of my reasoning.

"Introduce yourselves," she said to my class of about thirty people. "Tell us your name, major, and why you’ve chosen to take this course."

While such class introductions were nothing new to me, the way my classmates went about them most certainly was. Rather than just sharing general interests in their country’s past, the students in my class gave specific and informed reasons for enrolling in "History of Contemporary Portugal." Their statements, I realized, served just as much as introductions as they did justifications; in introducing themselves to the professor, my classmates were also asserting why they should be in the course.

Fortunately, when I voiced my more general motivations for taking the class, I did not face any scrutiny. Nonetheless, I could not help but notice a striking difference between my educational background and that of my Portuguese peers. Coming from a university where academic exploration is not only valued but also institutionalized in the form of general education requirements, never had I needed to justify so strongly my course selections. If I wanted to take a course completely unrelated to my major, I certainly could—and might even be praised for doing so—regardless of my motivations.

In contrast, education in Portugal, I learned, is much more specialized. Beginning in high school, college-bound Portuguese students are required to choose an area of specialization, which they will continue to study at university. Whereas I had not taken a history class since my junior year of high school, many of my classmates had spent the past five years studying history almost exclusively. Thus, just as I was later shocked to witness them produce a detailed timeline of Portuguese history from memory, they were shocked to learn that I majored in foreign languages. While foundational to the organization of countless US universities, the liberal arts model of education seemed almost unheard of in Portugal.

When class ended that day, I left feeling overwhelmed by the masses of information my Portuguese classmates already knew that I had never learned. My desire to study Portugal’s history, I came to accept, would be better fulfilled in a class with students who shared my less knowledgeable background. Yet despite my disappointing realization, I did not walk away from my first Portuguese course feeling completely discouraged. In a country where I could buy as much bacon as I pleased, I had finally found a cultural difference that would challenge me throughout the semester.