Belonging to a Foreign Country

I came back from Portugal two days ago. I'm sitting at my desk with views to one of the forests at the south of Stockholm and while playing the last show of Zeca Afonso in 1983, my mind goes back to a road that drive us from Serra da Estrela to Coimbra, with a reddish sunset exploding on our faces, trying to save in my memory the colors of the Portuguese landscape, his voice above Zeca's voice, and feeling part of another foreign country, of another city that never ceases to amaze me... as the day I got lost in the botanical institute and I decided to accept that, I don't know if it's because of the country, the magical places, the people or the language, but everyday I feel a bit more Portuguese.