When we moved from Italy to Portugal back in 2019, our first challenge—like so many expats before us—was finding a place to live. I still remember the real estate agent asking about my “dream home” and then confidently adding, “...and of course you’ll want a swimming pool for the girls, right?”
“Why would I?” I thought. “There’s a beach and an ocean—who needs a pool?”
So, on the first Friday after school, fresh from a two-week vacation in Sicily, we packed our usual beach gear—umbrella, towels, and snorkeling masks—and headed to Praia de São Pedro do Estoril.
The experience wasn’t quite what I had imagined. The waves knocked my youngest down as she tried to get out of the water; the ocean was freezing; and through the mask there was nothing to see but murky blue. Then the wind caught our sun umbrella and sent it tumbling down the beach—I chased it, caught it, and, honestly, I don’t think I’ve opened it since.
That day I quickly learned why everyone insisted on having a pool at home. The seaside wasn’t exactly a playground, and the Atlantic waters were far from inviting. It was September 2019, and after that first rough encounter, I wouldn’t dip a toe in the ocean again for almost five years.
I’ve always practiced yoga, but after a decade it started to feel a bit… predictable. I still enjoyed it, but the progress had stalled, and I found myself craving something more challenging
Then, at a female founders’ gathering, I met Bibiana. She was talking about her new swimming school when it suddenly hit me—I used to be a swimmer!
Back in Italy, when I was thirteen, I was diagnosed with scoliosis, and my doctor prescribed swimming as the perfect remedy—a gravity-free sport that engages every muscle and keeps everything nicely aligned. I joined a swimming team and trained five times a week for four years in the local pool right across from my home. I only stopped when I left for university.
Swimming had always been fun: the sound of my breath bubbling underwater, the feeling of pushing through the water, the lightness of my body floating on the surface. For years I had avoided the Atlantic as if it was liquid ice, and now here was my chance to finally make peace with it. Swimming in those waters was possible—and I couldn’t resist finding out if I still had it in me.
My first swim at Praia da Duquesa wasn’t short of surprises. My heart started racing almost immediately, even though I’d barely moved and the wetsuit was so tight I could hardly breathe. I managed a few freestyle strokes, but staring down into the depths didn’t exactly feel reassuring. We started by swimming far out to the famous yellow buoy and back. Wasn’t that a bit too far? And then, when it was all over, did I really have to strip in the middle of the parking lot?
Of course, I didn’t give up — and slowly but surely, open-water swimming began to grow on me in ways I never expected. I remember one day, gasping for air as I looked up to see seagulls soaring above me, then dipping my head back into the water to find fish gliding below. And somewhere in between, there was me.
I started to love the little ritual of showering after training — how the water felt warm against my skin, and how the sun’s rays warmed me after a swim. I laughed when an Italian tourist stopped me: “Ma davvero Lei nuota in queste acque gelide?” “Sì! È bellissimo. Dovrebbe provare!”.
“Ma davvero Lei nuota in queste acque gelide?”
“Sì! È bellissimo. Dovrebbe provare!”
Open-water swimming is such a dynamic experience — no two days are ever the same. The light in the sky changes from the start of your lesson to the end: sometimes more clouds, sometimes fewer, with the sun peeking through — and occasionally, even rain. The current is different when you swim in one direction and come back the other. Even the color (and sometimes the smell) of the water can vary greatly — from crystal clear to murky and mysterious. And let’s not even talk about the waves — I’ve already sacrificed one pair of goggles to their power!
With time, I learned to control my breathing, improved my stroke, and began my first little adventures: crossing Forte de São Julião da Barra, a night swim under the full moon, and my first competition in Sesimbra earlier this month.
At the time being, I swim twice a week. I like to keep things varied — one day in Cascais and another at Praia da Torre in Oeiras. I’m also thinking about adding a pool session to the mix. For my birthday, I was given a lovely watch that tracks my swims, which has led to my newest little vanity: I absolutely love seeing my swim routes mapped out, even if I still struggle a bit with tracking my progress in pace and workout balance.
With winter ahead, I’m looking forward to longer swims and, of course, to joining the community in new competitions — testing new stretches of sea along the Portuguese coast.
Anna Rinoldi