CITIZEN OF THE WORLD

“Where are you from?” – The question I get asked ALL the time.

       Consider this:

• Although I hold a Portuguese passport, I haven’t lived in the country since 1996.
• Although I have resided over 9 years in the United Kingdom, I’ve never got a British passport.
• Although I spent over 3 years in Spain, I haven’t considered applying for citizenship.
• Although I lived, worked and paid taxes in Amsterdam for a while, I never called it home.

“Portugal.” – Is my default answer, without even giving it any thought.

      And this:

• As I lived in the above countries, I’m fluent in several languages.
• When speaking English, I don’t have a Portuguese accent.
• When communicating in Spanish, people try, unsuccessfully, to guess my origin.

“Really? Portuguese eh? I thought you were Australian/British/South African/Etc.” - Continues the typical conversation.

I don’t consider myself English or Spanish but, am I really Portuguese, just because it states so in a passport?

I’ve always thought of myself as something else, not bowing to any country flag.

In fact, I got a tattoo on my shoulder in April, and while it was painful, I planned to get a second one on my inner arm with the words “Citizen of the world” for those moments, when crossing borders, I have to hand out my passport to a emigration officer.

Don’t take me wrong, I love Portugal, and think that my birthplace, the Island of Madeira is, still to this day, one of the most beautiful places in the world.

While my path hasn’t crossed anyone like me, I refused to admit that my case was unique.

It wasn’t until this morning that I finally figured it out. I was reading a book titled “Emergency” from author Neil Strauss, when I came across the following snippet:

Half a century ago, after serving in World War II, a newspaper publisher named Harry Schultz returned to America and was disappointed to find a nation of violent crime, high taxes, and frivolous lawsuits. So he sold his thirteen newspapers and decided to become not a citizen of America, but a citizen of the world. The name he gave to this idea was PT. The letters don't stand for any two specific words, but they're most often defined as “Perpetual Tourist” or “Permanent Traveller”.

So, I’m a “PT” then? Perhaps. Only time will tell…

Ciao 4 now

~ Paulo ~