(or perhaps more like "peculiarities" ???)
I am not really too clued up about the official customs one would read of in travel books,
but can tell of those I personally know of and found interesting in my own experience
Herbs: Every autumn when the trees next to the chapel start to
change colour, bent little old ladies with shawls over their heads,
pick away at the drying leaves. I enquired and found out that
the trees are elderberry trees and that the leaves are dried and
packed into little white cotton drawstring bags as medication to
calm the "nerves" Once when I had a nagging tummy ache and told 
my neighbour about this, she insisted that I go home with her.
Sitting in her kitchen on a low stool, in front of the open fireplace
warming mybones, I had to wait while she brewed my "medicine".
All it turned out to be was the few outside skins of an onion that
came out of her little white bag and which were boiled in water
for about two hours. Once ready, I had to wait until it cooled
down to lukewarm and drink......and...... I seem to remember, it
did help.
 On another occasion for another minor ailment, the hard dried outer peel of a pomegranate
was prepared in the same way to relieve my symptoms. Even quite recently, my ladies'
cramps were remedied by little yellow flowers which another old neighbour pointed out I
had to pick in the forest , boil and drink. I also know of a dense prickly mountain bush
with yellow flowers called "kerkeija" which is reputed to cure all liver conditions if brewed in
boiling water and drunk like tea.

Customs

Death: As soon as someone in the village dies, the church
bells are rung. There is a different "tune" for males and
females and so one immediately knows whether it was a man
or woman who has passed away. One of church elders donned
in a black cape and with a giant brass bell ringing loudly,
walks throught the alleyways from house to house and informs
each villager of the name of the deceased. The next day, after
mass at the village church, all the inhabitants of the village,
clad in black (veils and capes), follow the hearse, walking the
1km up the hill to the cemetery with the same ritual repeating
itself after the burial on the way back.
Elections : I have twice experienced this in my time in Portugal.
It is a very emotional time, starting with huge photographic placards
of all the contenders, displayed on EVERY tree, post or pole that
exists. In the build up much of the highly charged conversation seems
to revolve around the subject of politics. Once the results are known,
the supporting voters of the winning party will get in their cars,
with their whole family (including kids and grandma) and drive around
the village and the area for hours, hooting shouting and waving flags
out of the windows. By the next day, all the commotion will have died
down and life returned to normal, except for the posters which, forgotten,
will adorn the countryside for months to come.
Processions: These are held a few times each year, to commemorate
a certain religious feastday . The elders of the church usually clad in
ornate satiny red and white capes, carry various staffs and statues
(of Jesus, our Lady and / or a saint) on their shoulders. The priest
dispenses blessings in all directions in the form of holy water.
Following the procession are allthe villagers aged between 1 and 90.
Driving a Car: Portugal is known to have the highest accident rate in
Europe. Driving there, can be a hazardous undertaking! Behind a
wheel, the nationals love their speed and power, and seem to dislike
delay, in any shape or form. The amazing driving feats one sees, often
leaves one either gasping for breath or resorting to a few homegrown
exclamations. Passing on a blind summit or in a blind bend at 170 kmph
are just some of the magic tricks they often succesfully perform -
but sadly many young lives have been lost in the "disastres" caused
by this apparent national habit.
Village festa : All towns and villages have their own patron
saint who has to be honoured on hisown special day. An annual
festa to celerbrate this is held each year on that day. A lot of
organisng goes into these festas. For months ahead of time the
young village girls meet up to make the paper flowers which will
be strung on string in a zig-zag fashion from lamppoat to
lamppost across the streets and alleys of the village. The festa
lasts 3 days from Friday to Sunday. There are gambling stalls
and of course food stalls with meat sizzling on the fire and
lots of wine. Most important of all is the music. Local bands are
engaged to play loud music all night long, often until 2 am and
EVERYONE dances with everyone, from the toddlers to the
great-grandparents. Not to forget mentioning the inevitable
midnight fireworks display. Without a bit of exploding there would
be no authentic festa. These festas are anticipated with great
delight and enjoyed by all.
St Antonio: To a foreigner it might seem like all Portuguese men are
called Antonio. This is due to their patron saint (protector of animals)
who gets honoured in various ways on his feastday. A firm favourite
way of celebrating is dancing in the village square to the music of a
loud live band as well as food and wine stalls galore. Very often
fireworks and a bonfire are added attractions.
Fireworks . Even it being 8am on Sunday morning seems no
excuse to not start off a spectacular display of fireworks. The
fascination does not wane throughout the year.


Languages spoken: English / Portuguese / Dutch

A personal experience
Animals: Sadly, most animals in rural Portugal are not appreciated
as friends or pets. They are perceived either as "workers" or "food".
Often they are tied up in the same spot all their lives or locked up
in dark sheds and never see the light of day. People from the cities
also abandon their dogs near restuarants mostly in August each
year when they go on holiday to the Algarve or the interior, and do
not want to spend money to board their pets at kennels. I have had
insulting hate mail from a Mr Paulo Cardoso who challenged the truth
of my words. When I sent him an invitation to see for himself he had
blocked my email address !? Portugal is not perfect, and education is
the key, something which is actively being done through the media.