On a balmy summer evening in Lagos, Portugal, what began as a simple dinner outing evolved into a lesson on stereotypes and human nature. My family and I, accompanied by American friends visiting us during our annual visit to Portugal, set out to experience what had been recommended as a “typical Portuguese restaurant.”

The recommendation came from another foreign visitor who had been impressed by the homey atmosphere and authentic feel of a small establishment tucked away in a residential area of Lagos, described as a place where you'd feel like your grandmother was cooking for you.

On a gloomy day in Porto, Portugal, my family and I found ourselves standing in a long queue outside Livraria Lello, a century-old bookstore that has become a cultural icon. The line stretched around the block, filled with tourists clutching pre-booked tickets. This bookstore has become so popular that you now need a timed entry voucher just to step inside.

As we waited, I couldn't help but wonder if this experience would be worth the hype. Would we find anything beyond the tourist trap that Livraria Lello seemed to have become?

On a pleasant London summer day, as my daughter and I exited the Victoria and Albert Museum, our minds brimming with the artistic wonders we'd just explored, an unexpected sight caught our attention. A classic British red telephone booth stood proudly on the sidewalk, its crimson hue as vibrant as if it had been painted mere hours ago. The crown emblem atop shone with surprising clarity, a testament to careful preservation.

At first glance, I assumed it was an art installation – a nod to British nostalgia placed strategically near the museum. It wouldn't have been out of place, given the eclectic mix of historical and contemporary pieces we'd just witnessed inside. But as we drew closer the true nature of this scarlet sentinel revealed itself: a charming coffee stand.