About once a week I think about that book I’m going to write. There’s the one I’ve started and made decent progress on. Without going into too much detail, the setting is alpine/near future and features a media company, all kinds of tanned, polite people sporting jaunty Mitteleuropean gear and many more fantastic animals that look great in the meadows – and on the dinner plate. There’s another book that has been in the works for more than 20 years and yet, it’s nowhere in terms of structure and planning. A week ago, while walking around Cascais (more from there in a moment), Mats suggested that I put the work of fiction on ice and focus on something more autobiographical. “You’ve pretty much written the book already, just do it,” he said. The comment has been following me around all week – and what a week it has been. In many ways, it has been typical of a chapter that might find its way into this possible work of nonfiction. If you’ve been following versions of this column since 2001 (NZZ am Sonntag, FT Weekend, The New York Times), you’ll know that I go through phases where certain cities or regions start to dominate for weeks, months and even years. If the past seven days are anything to go by, I might either be entering my Iberian era or already in the thick of it. Allow me to share a few datelines to illustrate.Cascais. There’s something about this Atlantic enclave beyond the city limits of Lisbon. While it’s well established as both a smart resort community and upmarket residential district, there’s something a bit scrappy and not fully formed about it. The town centre is a mix of tourist shops selling Portuguese-inspired tat made in China and Bangladesh, a few franchised outposts of well-known premium brands and some traditional daily-essential shops clinging on for dear life. The modernist housing stock is excellent but much of it unloved and not quite understood; so much so that some real gems are being knocked down and replaced by hulking, out-of-scale monstrosities that are all glass balconies and pointy edges. That said, I had one of my best dinners of 2023 there last year, the beaches are relaxed, clean and orderly, and it’s bursting with potential. Add to that the safety factor (it’s not the south of France) and you’ll know why I found myself peering over fences and staring at the ads in estate-agent windows.Lisbon. It’s Monday and a group of fresh acquaintances have invited us out to Pinóquio. While the restaurant doesn’t take reservations and you’re meant to queue, Marcela – the evening’s ringleader – wanders straight in, kisses many of the waiters (“I’ve known them since I was a child,” she says) and we settle in for a dinner of simple, perfectly prepared Portuguese classics. Everyone orders beer, then wine, and the dishes keep coming. At a certain point, I sit back and make an observation. A sizeable group of adults ranging from mid-thirties to early-fifties are enjoying dinner and there hasn’t been one word about allergies, abstinence intolerances or dietary preferences – just pure enjoyment and a love of food and drink. Refreshing! I might add that the assembled group was swimwear-ready for the forthcoming season in Comporta.Porto. By now you’ll know that Monocle likes Portugal because it makes things. It’s by no means the fastest country on earth but the nation boasts an exceptional network of ateliers and factories that can make €1000 brogues, ceramic lamp bases, super-tech cycling gear and hard-wearing outdoor café chairs. On Tuesday I visited one of our bag factories on the outskirts of Porto. It was nice to see women young and old stitching bags and dealing with one of the owners, who knows her trade back to front and is, in fact, quite fast. Also refreshing!Santiago de Compostela. I love a sneak preview and friends Celeste, Evelyn and David invited me for a speedy drink and then a quick spin around the soon-to-open home of their Fundación RIA. Still very much a building site, David (Chipperfield) assured me that it would all be fine on the night and, after we climbed a few floors, I started to believe him. Afterwards, they treated me to dinner at the very tasty Anaco and I did an unsubtle job of lobbying for an exclusive on the space. Much, much more from lovely Galicia soon.Madrid. Could this be the best of Europe’s big capitals at the moment? It certainly feels like it. The city has snap, energy and is full of elegant locals. There is much to be said for a city where residents make an effort – and Madrileños are top of the league. On Wednesday afternoon, I did a quick retail tour and, while checking out some of the renovated floors of a branch of El Corte Inglés, I was reminded how correct all of the male sales staff looked in their jackets and ties. Also refreshing! That evening we hosted 20 friends of Monocle at Aarde and our fashion director, Natalie, remarked, “It’s incredible how chic everyone is in this city.” The following morning, at a distant gate for the Iberia flight up to London, the theme continued. “Isn’t it extraordinary?” I said to my colleague Andrew, gesturing to a pair of young bankers seated across from us. “Perfect navy suits, impossibly crisp white shirts and highly polished loafers. So correct.” Andrew smiled and nodded in agreement. A most refreshing and reassuring look.