It wasn’t easy getting Israelis to talk to me about their decision to relocate to Portugal.
Some said they’d be happy to be interviewed and subsequently dissipated. Then it gradually became crystal clear that one émigrée was more interested in promoting her business agenda and marketing her therapeutic school of thought than discussing what it was like for her to leave the “Jewish homeland” and start up somewhere else.
One whom I met during my month-long stay in the Iberian Peninsula a few months back was more than a little cagey, and yet another was palpably wary of being misconstrued or being incriminated for “jumping the sinking ship.”
I quickly felt I was being put in a position of having to prove my innocence and that I was coming in peace and with no ulterior motive. Not a comfortable starting point for any article. I told my prospective interviewees that I had no agenda, political or otherwise, and that I wasn’t judging them for their decision. I was simply interested in listening and then conveying their stories.
A friend in Portugal explained to me that there are apparently a couple of Israeli real estate sharks in the region and that people shied away from contact with journalists because they were concerned that any media exposure would spread the word of the proliferation of Israelis setting up shop in Portugal – and that, they feared, would be pounced on by the property dealers, who would then raise their prices. Supply and demand is the name of game, I guess.
In truth, the majority of Israelis I encountered in the lush region of Coimbra, located to the east of the midway point between Porto and Lisbon, were delightful. The general response to my query as to why they’d moved to Portugal was that they were looking for a better quality of life. That might be down simply to the far lower prices of houses and land.
As we well know, the property market in Israel – pardon the upcoming structural pun – has gone through the roof. The social justice protests of 2011 – when thousands took to the streets, set up “tent cities” at various downtown sites, and vociferously expressed their dismay at the cost of living, predominantly the prohibitive cost of housing – did absolutely nothing to stem the skyrocketing housing index.
And while prices have risen in Portugal over the past decade, as Brits, Germans, French, Dutch, Israelis, and others have taken advantage of the depressed state of the Portuguese economy, the costs are still way below the level in Israel. That is partly down to the fact that young Portuguese are fleeing the rural regions for the cities and elsewhere around the world in search of employment and what they consider to be a better quality of life.
But for Israelis faced with having to shell out upwards of NIS 3 million for a three-room apartment in a decent area of Tel Aviv, the thought of acquiring 40 dunams of land, complete with a well, a couple of springs, fruit trees, and ample space to grow vegetables and tend to a herd of goats if they so desire, is the stuff of fantasy. You could also throw in a solid two-story old building with thick walls that obviate the need for air conditioning during the 40-degree summer months, and keep the cold out when the winter frost covers the grass, plus a clutch of other structures dotted around the estate.
The fact, however, is that the latter gargantuan spread could be bought, in the district of Castelo Branco to the southeast of Coimbra, five or six years ago for a paltry NIS 160,000. For startling comparison’s sake, that might get you a quarter of a room in a four-room apartment in Jerusalem’s less-than-glitzy Katamonim neighborhood. Avshi and Bar Yaaran acquired their farm, which fits the above description, in 2019 after going through the mill while they ran their goat farm in the Judean Hills betwixt Jerusalem and Beit Shemesh for 24 years.
The Yaarans
The Yaarans endured their fair share of shenanigans with the authorities, principally the Israel Land Authority, Keren Kayemeth LeIsrael, and the Matteh Yehuda Regional Authority, which kept them guessing about their right to be there and how much longer they would be able to keep their goat farm running. After plenty of to-ing and fro-ing and a number of court hearings, the Yaarans finally gave up the ghost and moved to Portugal.
That was after they’d invested in their place in Israel, building a house, bringing up five children, and with the tacit – verbal only, nothing in writing – encouragement of the aforementioned authorities to maintain their goat herding pursuits in order to prevent fires breaking out. It is a tried and tested method used in various European countries, and there have been trials conducted in fire-stricken California as well.
With all that in mind, perhaps it was no surprise to hear Avshi Yaaran say he has absolutely no regrets about leaving his country of birth, in which he served as a member of an elite IDF combat unit. “I am not sad at all about leaving Israel,” he exclaimed. “It was the writing on my wall. It was meant to be. Anyway, I am the ultimate off-gridder,” he laughed.
I spent a week with him as a guest on the farm and was enchanted by the tranquility of the place and the simple curative boon of a wholesome lifestyle, which included picking the ingredients for lunchtime soup from the garden and grinding wheat that was grown on the premises before baking bread.
After a week there, and that was three weeks after I took off from Ben-Gurion Airport for Europe, I finally sensed some respite from the trauma of Oct. 7 and its ongoing painful aftermath. So it wasn’t hard to understand why Yaaran decided to pull up stakes.
“Here I can do what I want,” he said. “No one gets in my way in Portugal. In Israel, I also did what I wanted, but there it was always a battle.”
Yaaran said he feels he can go for broke in Portugal, but that not everyone takes advantage of what is on offer. “There are a lot of people who come here, and they have the option to do that, but they don’t. I do.”
Ariel Sanopar and Dor Ayalon
Not all is sweetness and light in Portugal. Quite a few Israelis I spoke to there regaled me with tales of three-hour lunch breaks of workmen they were on jobs with. Others told me about the length of time it takes, for example, to get a building permit to renovate a ruin that came with land they’d purchased. There are all sorts of rules and regulations one has to watch out for, such as how large the refurbished structure can be, and whether it can be used for human accommodation or only for animals.
And there’s the not-insignificant matter of massive forest fires, which seem to occur almost every summer. A week before I arrived in Portugal, thousands of acres of forests had been scorched, along with several houses.
One Israeli murmured something about mafia-type warring connected to the paper industry, and another mentioned lithium mining. In any case, it was reported that fires began in 140 different spots on the same night. That doesn’t sound like a particularly natural turn of events.
Ariel Saponar got caught up in the tragedy. He, together with a group of Israelis looking to establish a multidisciplinary center of the arts and areas of spiritual practice under the guidance of his father, Leon Saponar, had bought a large plot of land in Coimbra. The idea was for the other members of the group to gravitate there over time.
In the meanwhile, Saponar had been living on the land in a caravan – he hadn’t managed to fight his way through the red tape to obtain a building permit – in which he housed his various musical instruments and all the fittings and fixings of a recording studio. All of that was lost in the summer when fire swept through the property. Saponar got out with his laptop and the shirt on his back.
He left Israel just a few days after Oct. 7 and was joined by Dor Ayalon a month before I met them. They, too, said they were drawn to Portugal by the possibility of achieving a higher quality and more peaceful way of life.
“As a group, as a unit, we realized that in order to find tranquility, we needed to go somewhere else. That’s just a little challenging in Israel,” he added, tongue firmly planted in cheek. “Financially, too,” Saponar chimed in. “That also comes into the equation.”
I wondered why there were so many Israelis in the rural tracts of Coimbra. “It’s very green here,” Saponar explained. “There is a lot of water here, and there is a lot of very cheap properties.” Enough said.
Getting away from the tension that generally goes with life in Israel was another compelling motivator.
“I made an impulsive decision to get on a plane to Portugal. I left because I was fed up [with life in Israel].” Mind you, Saponar is not your typical Israeli. “I lived in the United States between the ages of six and 16. I always had a problem with the Israeli mentality,” he said.
Fresh vantage point
An Israeli who asked to remain anonymous said he’d been accosted one day by a British local who complained about Israelis swarming the area. His response to that went something along the rough-and-ready lines of: “You’ve been here for 20 years sitting on your fat backside. We Israelis are innovators. We get on with things.”
That put an intriguing twist on the lay of the land among émigrés in Portugal, the majority of whom do not appear to have mastered the language. That necessarily leads to a situation whereby the Israeli community is largely inward-looking and self-supportive, and the Israelis only come into contact with the indigenous population when they have to. That generally relates to dealing with official stuff and shopping at the local supermarket.
Ayalon feels there are advantages to outsider vantage points, in more senses than one. “When you leave Israel, you can get a different perspective and make more considered decisions. You can decide how you want to examine the situation from the outside,” he explained.
That was also said in reference to viewing the state of affairs in Israel from abroad. “When you are inside the so hysterical confused consciousness [in Israel], it is more difficult to navigate your way. When you are outside, you can look at it all from a more tranquil position.”
I met another Israeli, from Galilee, at his delightful homestead situated by the gently lapping waters of the River Dao. He said he had bought the land – around 10 dunams – three years earlier and eventually moved in with his wife. He asked me not to use his name, as he was concerned about censure by people he works with in Israel.
The transition to Portugal was a spur of the moment decision. “A friend of mine called me up and asked me if I wanted to buy property here. I didn’t think twice,” he said. That was prompted by dissatisfaction with the way things were panning out in Israel. “The political situation had begun to emerge. We started to understand who was against whom, that everyone was against us,” he smiled wryly.
And so the escapade began. “My brother joined in and my good friend started mining the web. He knew what he was looking for – land next to a river, stream, or lake. He found several options. We packed our bags and got on a plane to Portugal.”
He says while lead up to the eventual purchase was easy, the next stages were challenging, and he learned some hard lessons along the way. But all’s well that ends well, and the Galilean couple and their family now have a lovely home in a gorgeous spot and all a few minutes’ drive from the nearby town, supermarket, and other amenities.
They are gradually settling in. “We are getting to know the place, collecting new friends, getting exposure to the culture, the nature and the seasons, the colors, the quiet, and the church bells [on the other side of the river] that ring a tune every hour, and half a ring every half hour,” he laughed. Sounds idyllic – literally!
I asked if he felt any sadness at leaving Israel. “We are still flitting between Israel and Portugal and, unfortunately, still paying taxes in Israel. Oct. 7 only accentuated a process that was already in place. The evil people want to carry on. They have set up the basis for destruction, and they are continuing. I mean the evil people inside [in Israel]. The ones outside have always been there and will remain,” he said.
This was clearly not a five-fingered salute. “There is sadness and mourning here. This is the destruction of the [Israeli] home. But we prefer the home on the ground [in Portugal] to the safety room at home.” That’s perfectly understandable.
Amnon Aharon
Amnon Aharon is also somewhat betwixt and between. The former Yehud resident spent three months touring the north of Portugal to get a handle on the region before heading south to Coimbra for a few months. He and his wife currently reside in rented accommodation just to the south of Coimbra while they take their time to consider property options.
The Aharons are happy to take their time, on all fronts. “I tell my friends it is not like getting in the car and driving north to the Galilee to catch some greenery. You just pop out of the house to drive to the supermarket, and on the way you turn off the road and you find yourself on a hike.” That seems like a lovely healing way to pass the time of day, and a far cry from the rat race in Israel.
That genteel existence is facilitated by the fact that Aharon is retired and has what he calls “passive income.” He said, like the Galilean gent, the move to Portugal was sparked by the political developments in Israel.
“We left because of the regime that came together in Israel. The Special Authorities Law did it for us. We realized we couldn’t continue living there.”
Legislation issues aside – democratic or otherwise – Aharon said he revels in the tranquility he and his wife have found in Portugal.
“I tell my friends in Israel that we live in such a quiet and unknown village that the people in the next village, 100 meters, away, don’t know about it,” he chuckled. Sounds like just the ticket for a restful, recuperative getaway.
When I made aliyah, and probably for the first 20 years of my 47-year sojourn and counting, there was a stigma attached to yordim – Israelis who emigrated. Did Aharon get any of that? “There were some who looked at me askance. But I didn’t leave the country. The country left me. There are too many people in Israel who are happy to live in this [political] thing. I am not willing to live in it,” he declared.
PERHAPS THE growing number of Israelis moving to Portugal is just a natural development, considering the country’s rich Jewish backdrop. I came across quite a few Portuguese who, after they heard I was from Israel, told me their great-great-grandparent or some other ancestor was Jewish. That started right at the Porto airport.
When I asked a passing flight attendant where the outsized luggage carousel was, she asked me where I was from and proceeded to tell me that her surname was Pereira, adding: “That means I must be Jewish. Pereira means ‘pear tree,’” she laughed.
I didn’t get the nominal connection, but I enjoyed our little chat all the same. And, happily, my bicycle arrived in one piece.