Portugal through the senses Chapter 3: The Colors of summer

The colors of Summer.

Olá.

Welcome back to Portugal Through the Senses with Peppe.

If you’re new here, I’m Peppe. I run Portugal Journeys with Peppe, private tours designed to help you see, hear, taste, and feel Portugal like a local.

This series is my way of sharing more than just itineraries or landmarks. It’s about showing you the Portugal I know—through all the senses that make this country unforgettable.

We’ve listened to the sounds of summer. We’ve savored its tastes. Now, let’s open our eyes to the colors of Portugal in summer.

Because here, color isn’t just decoration. It’s history, identity, and mood all at once.

When people think of Portugal, they often imagine blue. And rightly so. There’s the deep navy of the Atlantic that shapes our entire coastline. In summer, it turns a teasing turquoise in hidden coves around Arrábida—Praia dos Coelhos, Praia de Galápos—places I love to show guests early in the morning when the water is calm and empty.

There’s also the blue of the sky, which feels bigger here. Over Lisbon, it’s so bright it seems to hum. Over the plains of Alentejo it stretches endlessly, interrupted only by the sudden white of village walls baking in the heat.

Ah, that white. Alentejo is famous for it. Whole towns painted a pure, blinding white, designed to reflect the fierce sun. In summer, walking through places like Évora or Monsaraz at midday is like stepping into a black-and-white photograph washed in sun. But even there, you’ll see splashes of color—blue trims around doors, bright flowerpots, a red geranium defying the heat on a windowsill.

I love showing guests these contrasts. When we walk those quiet, narrow lanes, you can see centuries of practical wisdom and aesthetic sense at work. White to cool the house. Blue to ward off insects and the evil eye. A tradition that isn’t just tradition—it’s survival in this climate.

Then there’s Lisbon itself, which is anything but subtle. It’s a riot of color if you know where to look. The iconic azulejos, of course—those blue-and-white tiles that tell stories on building façades, but also greens and yellows and intricate geometric patterns. I love watching guests pause to admire a crumbling old wall covered in tiles that are a little cracked, a little faded, but still proud.

And there’s the tram. Lisbon’s old elétricos in that unmistakable yellow, rolling stubbornly up impossible hills. The Elevador da Bica clanging and squealing as it climbs, yellow against pastel pink and pale green façades. It’s not a polished postcard scene—it’s alive. It’s working. It’s carrying locals home, just as it has for decades.

I always tell guests to watch the city change color through the day. In the morning it’s clear and sharp, white walls reflecting the light. At midday, it flattens and shimmers in the heat. But it’s at sunset that Lisbon glows. From the Miradouro da Senhora do Monte or Santa Catarina, you see the rooftops blush pink and orange. The Tagus turns molten. The bridge silhouette cuts into the glowing sky.

Summer festas add their own layer. Bairro Alto, Alfama, Madragoa—all strung with paper garlands in every color imaginable. Reds, yellows, greens, blues, crisscrossing above narrow cobbled lanes. At night, bulbs light them up like carnival, and the colors seem to dance with the music.

Even the food is colorful. The deep green of caldo verde soup flecked with white curls of onion. The ruby of watermelon slices on a plate in August. Bright golden pastel de nata with its dark, burnt top. The glass of vinho verde catching light like pale green straw.

I’ve spent years guiding people through these places, and I still see new colors every summer. A door was newly painted bright blue in a Mouraria alley.

Fresh graffiti art in Cais do Sodré that makes you laugh or think.

A field of sunflowers on the drive to Alentejo that wasn’t there last year.

Colors here aren’t frozen. They change. They fade and get refreshed. They tell you where you are, what season it is, what mood the city’s in.

I think that’s why I love showing them to people. Because to see the colors of Portugal is to see its personality. Sometimes bold. Sometimes soft. Always surprising.

When you come, I hope you won’t just look for the famous sights. I hope you’ll look for the colors in the corners. The details no one tells you to notice. The light that hits a tile wall just so at 6 p.m. The garlands are blowing in the evening breeze over a street full of laughter.

Because those are the moments when Portugal reveals its true nature.

And if you’d like, I’d be happy to help you see it.

Até breve.

– Peppe