Eu não sou portuguese, tolo

The Inka Trail, Peru

I grew up being told I was part Portuguese (a twelfth, if you're interested.) I'd never been to Portugal, but I felt a small connection to the place. I'd learned a little bit of the language, I vaguely supported Luis Figo and the rest of the Portuguese football team. I even planned one day to make a pilgrimage there and discover my roots.

A few months ago however, inspired by David Baddiel on the TV documentary Who Do You Think You Are, I was exposed to some more extensive research into my genealogy. And as it turns out I'm not remotely Portuguese, I am in fact part South American.

This is good news. South America is much cooler after all. As a friend of mine said, it pisses all over Portugal. It's got glaciers, deserts and rainforest, the Incas, the Amazon river, and cool films like City Of God.

A Lake in Peru

Suddenly Luis Figo had nothing to do with me. But when my friend made his comment I couldn't help feeling a sharp twinge of hurt on my, until recently, spiritual homeland's behalf.

What all this demonstrates is how utterly arbitrary it is to feel any claim on an ancestor's country, however much fun it might be. Still, I can't wait to discover and assimilate everything good from my brand new Latin American culture, and start planning a new oh so meaningful pilgrimage.