My results



Just got  my results other day…… didn’t surprise me, though.


I am :


Philippines ————————   60%   (  Malay – Indonesian race )


Spain            ———————–    15 %


Sardinia       ———————–    15 %


Italy              ———————-   10 %


I wasn’t surprised…… however,  Sardinia ? ? ?  Isn’t Sardinia in Italy ?




We know exactly where in Spain my great, great grandparents came from… Sta. Maria de la Nueva, Segovia, Spain.  My grandma even went to Spain to attend a reunion given by her Spanish relatives  years  ago.  My grandma taught  Spanish at a university in the Philipines.  So, yeah,  Spanish ancestry is a given.


But, again, Sardinia ???  It’s very specific, isn’t ?



* ponders *



My sister’s hubby is Italian-American.  My cousin’s hubby is Italian -American. And ,  a  friend  ( who likes me , * cough, cough * )  is Italian/Polish( ? ) -American ( although his last name is Polish, like Lywyck…. Ha ha…. ) I  wonder why his mom ,  who came from Italy ,  is thankful  her beloved  son doesn’t have an Italian  last name.  She says it’s too ethnic. ..  her exact words.   Eh ?  Really ?  How about me ? A friend once told me my name sounds like a female villain’s name from a Mexican telenovela, like,  Maria Esperanza Madriaga. lol.. Too ethnic, eh ?  * shakes head *   ” Madame Lywyck,  your last name is all consonants, he he.  * Trouble, trouble, double trouble.  * dashes off *




I still consider my race as ” pure Filipino “,   pure Asian,  and American  , of course.  *  raises American flag *,  PTBA .


[  ………. ]


Hmmmm, Sardinia…..


Wait, why am I so focused on Sardinia ?  lol


Well, whatever…. this has taken freakin’ Corona Virus off my  mind.  And to think this fudging  virus is not even a living thing. It’s just a protein covered with fat.  So, yeah,  wash your hands with  foamy ordinary soap /detergent and hot water. And , disinfect with liquid containing 65% or over alcohol content. And Listerine your mouth ! Mouthwashes contain over 65% alcohol.


Oh, no  ! !  I need more alcohol ! !










36 responses to this post.

  1. Mouthwash is not indicated unless specific reasons to use it . . . it kills both good and bad germs and research shows not good for heart and high blood pressure.

    I’m summarizing; do some reading on it (medical paper, not mouthwash manufacturers).

    Sardinia (a few hundred years or so ago) was under Spanish rule. Perhaps that’s the connection.


  2. Sardinia – is a very independent minded province of Italy.


  3. Sardinia is an island which may belong as Italian now but has migrated from Spain and North Africa in its past. Genetically, Sardinia is very different to Italian. Indeed, the term Italian is what you really need to query. Italian blood is very mixed – like British! 😊


  4. I took the same test and while 57% of what came back I wasn’t too surprised, it was the 43% that rocked me! Still can’t figure out the 1% Norway 🙂 🙂


  5. Sardinia has amazing white-sandy beaches that look quite similar to those found in the Philippines and there is quite a number of Filipinos there… kahit papaano may kaugnayan sa pagitan ng Pinas at Sardinia


    • I’ll Google Sardinia later. It’s interesting that this small island is singled out in my ancestry, with the same percentage as Spain.

      How’s life coming along in Italy, ” Kuya ” Eduardo ? I’ve been hearing a bit of good news coming from Italy. I hope it gets even better as time goes by.


      • We are seeing the positive effects of 4 weeks of community quarantine: the contagion is slowly diminishing. People are taking the government’s instructions very seriously…first time in the history of this country that people take something seriously.
        I have heard that now the virus is hitting hard in America. How are you doing there?


        • I’m okay…. just a bit worried about my parents’ situation. They have not gone out ( well, my mother ) since Feb.29 when we arrived here in the US from our Philippine vacation. I’m now the one who does the grocery shopping, but my mom wants to sneak out when Im not around, lol. It’s because I make mistakes , like, not the right kind of meat, No, she hasn’t done that.

          California is # 4 in the number of deaths and infected. Good news, the rate of infection is flattening a bit. I guess the sheltering- in- place is working. I hope it stays that way, and then we can wait for those who have the virus to recover. There are still no toliet paper, alcohol, bleach, etc at supermarkets…. not even online. New York is the epicenter, as we all know. This pandemic is going to change our lives , that’s for sure.


  6. You are so linkes to Italians 🤣🤣🤣


  7. Posted by Macrine Jangu on April 7, 2020 at 9:33 am

    you sure do need more alcohol
    you are a lot of things.
    great piece


  8. Hi RenxKyoko,
    I ones had a real extraordinary adventure in Sardinia, which might tell you a bid about its people. Went there for a late summer/autumn holidays in Cagliari with the family. since I am not the stereotype beach tourists, nor the sightseeing tourist, I decided one day to explore the nearby mountains (west of Cagliari, close to the rocky shore of the island). Unfortunately, I only had a Sardinia road map with me (on a scale of 1:1 000 000), no GPS (it was in the mid 90s), no mobile. So I started my mountain tracking from a small village, where the local bus dropped me off, and where some foot pathes seemed to run towards a chain of beautiful green hills. It was around noon already, but since it was already late September, the temperature was quite pleasant, there were sufficient springs with crispy water and I also had my rucksack filled with the local bread and cheese and tomatoes. I considered myself well prepared, and even thought that my fragmentary knowledge of the Italien language would be at least sufficient to understand the signposts along the tracking paths.
    My first doubts arose when I recognized that there are no signposts for mountain hikers in Sardegna. And if anybody tells me that he found signposts for touristic hikers I can tell him for sure, that he has probably been in a fenced theme park, but not in the heart of real Sardegna.
    So the nice path that I took went through a beautiful, aromatically smelling forest of pines and bay-leave, and mediterranian herbs on the ground. It was a pretty curvy path, and because of the trees around I also lost the orientation after a while. I was intuitively sure that the path brings me away from the coast line and closer to the chain of mountains in the heart of the island. But when I reached the top of the next little hill, I was shocked, because I suddenly found myself about 150 m above the coast line. This ment I had walked in the opposite direction that I thought I did. The beautiful little path through the hilly forest had completely fooled my sense of orientation. Needless to mention that during the entire 4 hours walk I did not meet a single human beeing at all. I can only imagine that this tempting footpath led directly to the rocky coast line because it was used regularily by local people to collect lost goods from wreckened ships in the sea. But essentially, it was a dead end foot path. So I understoud I had to turn back, and make a new attempt with a better mountain map in the days coming. The next shock came when I found that (because it was already late September), the shaddows of the trees became suspiciously longer, since dusk started. And unlike mid-Europe, sunset is quite rapid in the mediterranean. So I might have been only half way back to the village where I started, still another 2 hours to walk, when it was so dark that I could impossibly continue my. It was also new moon, so little help from extraterrestrial illumination. I pretty much declined to the idea that I have to spend the night wrapped in a towel under one of the bay-leave trees. I already had spotted a place on the gras that look quite soft and clean, and collected some wood to light a fire, and unwrapped the last pieces of bred and cheese for a frugal dinner, when I suddenly saw the front lights of a car driving slowly towards my shelter. I jumped on the middle of the path, and made some signs to show my desperate situation here in the middle of nowwhere. The car, a sort of old jeep, of course stoped, and three Sardinians opened the windows and asked me something. I told them in English that I lost my way and that I am completely helpless. They opened the backdoor and ordered me to jump. RESCUED, I thought and felt extreme relief.
    The three man (I think they are correctly called Sards or Sardi in Italian) smoked heavily, and were talking to each other in a cryptic language (Sardu, which is more similar to Catalan than to Italian, hic.). This was already exotic enough, I thought, and was expecting to get back to the near village soon to catch a bus or hitch-hike back to Cagliari. But in fact, the ride went now really deeper into the mountains, but the three men of course had no problem of orientation at all. After half an hour or so (it meanhwile was probably 9 pm), we arrived at a sort of disbandoned mountain cottage, where the car stopped and we all climbed out. Walking closer, it became clear that this was not a holiday cottage in the mountains, but it was a rather large ancient farm house, with barns and even a sort of stony tower overseeing the whole premise. But it was completely dark, except for a window through which I could see the glimmer of light, either from candles or from an open fire place. The three men now started to onload some cargo that was in the back of the jeep, wooded boxes filled with pasta, fruits, tomatoes, oil, sausages, bread and bottles of red wine. The three men obviously were very familiar with the premise, and they were here for a business. My first thought was that this is the end of the ride for today, and I probably have to find a place here to sleep. But I was wrong again. One of the three men asked me to enter, and there I saw the “tennent” of the house, sitting next to the fireplace and intensively discussing with the three men from the car, pointing with his fingers again and again towards me and seeming somewhat nervous. But after the three men from the car calmed him down, he started to brew a coffee on his fireplace, which we all drank. After this I realized that the three man did not intend at all to spend the night there, but the delivery of the food was the only purpose of their ride to this mysterious place, and they soon made signs to me to get back to the car. When the car turned back, I could see the single men from the farm standing there in the pale light of a lantern, leaning on a long gun. Maybe he is a local hunter, and stays there over night to catch the best game early in the morning, I thought. But funny enough, after a 15 min drive, we arrived at another place, smaller than the first, just a large barn made of white lime stones. The car stopped again, the three man unloaded another set of food boxes, and there again was a single young guy who obsviously lived there alone. This one seemed to be less nervous about the stranger that I was, he seemed to had consumed already enough of the red wine that was regularily delivered to him. He also did not invited us for a coffee, but offered some apples, which we ate in front of the barn sitting around an iron table. The men knew each other very very well, and it was more than a plain business of food delivery that held them together. They discussed some obvious important issues, and occasionally glanced over to my side, just to make sure that that my eyes signaled sufficient innocence, indicating that the conversation they had in their local Sardi language was cryptic enough for me to not understand a single word. And they were pretty right. Meanwhile, it was around 10 p.m., the air turned cooler here outside in the yard of the premise in the mountains, and even the three locals seem to feel a bit chilly to hang around for longer. So it was time to say good-bye to the lonely barn-tennant who was so generous with the apples, jump in the jeep and back on the wild path through the forest. Now, finally, I could feel that we were probably heading back to the village. The driver had the engine in idle gear, and the jeep rolled downhill slowly, with the front lights only in dimmed mode. After 20 minutes we indeed arrived that the first outskirts of the village, at which I had started my adventure tour about 12 hours before. The car stopped in front of a typical village farm house, and and young mother with a baby on her arms and two other young kids running around her said Hello to us, and exchanged cheek kisses with the three men, but not with me :-((
    But the young lady smilled at me, as if she could remember my face from the morning, when I might have passed her house with foolishly optimistic expression of a western traveller tourist who confused the Sardinian wilderness with a tourist ressort. When the three men went in, the lady made a resolute sign with hand, as if she wants to swipe aways some dust from an imaginary table, signalling me to come in. Although it was already around 11 pm now, the kids were all awake still, joking with one of the three man who obviously was their dad. The lady left to the kitchen, a soon returned with a big iron pan full of heated up pasta in tomato sauce and molten cheese. We all received a deep plate and ate the pasta as they were. I remember that they were pretty salty (most likely from the added salty type of Sardian chees), and if I would have served such kind of pasta somewhere else, I would not hessitate to complain. But here, I was invited to the house of my saviors, so I praised the meal as good as I could (“Multo bene, multo delicato”). The people on the table laughed at me. I remembered some phrases in Spanish, and without knowing that Sardi and Spanish have a lot of similarities, I tried to express what could be my options now. I probably asked something like “Por favor, puedo usar el telefono ?” and “Yo tengo que ir a casa en Cagliari”. The folks understoud me pretty well, showed me the old fashioned black telefon, and I could call our Italian host in Cagliari, who soon connected me to my family. They were of course very much concerned already, not having any clue what has happened to me on this wild island. Than the man who drove us in the jeep took over the telephone, talked to our Italian host to instruct him were they can pick me up.
    After half an our, during which time I got a bit sleepy after all the food and feeling relaxed from the nervous up and downs during the last hours, a taxi arrived with my uncle and the Italian host from our holiday ressort. I had to say “Muchas gracias” and “Arrivederci” or “Ciao” to my saviors and their families, unfortunately without exchanging names and addresses. I wrote down my data on the edge of a local newspaper, but felt that they for some reason were not very keen of giving me in exchange anything written down about their identidy. I thought that they are probably just a more traditional, family focussed society, and therefore don’t see much purpose of socialising to close with strangers.
    When we finally got in the taxi, which was desperately waiting for us in front of the house, and the driver was chasing the car through the dark, curvy road back to Cagliary, our local host asked me how it all happened. He alternately shook is head and broke out in laughter about the story, before he explained me what had really happened there. My saviors, the three men driving around the wilderness in the Jeep at night, where members of a family that had an issue with a blood revenge (locally called Vindicau, you might know this in the Phillipines as Rido). What is quite funny here to mention, that there are Wikipedia articles about Vendetta/blood revenge in a lot of Eastern and Southern European languages, but non in English.
    But tho explained how this affects the social life espcially in Sardinia till modern times: There are cases of Vindicau between Sardinian families, usually originating from a dispute about land ownerships or excess to water or some damage to farm animals by drunken hunters, which start a chain of escalating revenges from mutual verbal insults, via physical violence and finally murder, that go on and on over generations. Usually the very acts of the revenge, done by deadly attacks with knifes or fire-arms, are performed by the young, un-married man of the large family clans. The murderers don’t claim innocent, since they feel to just follow a eternal obligation. To avoid long term imprissonment, however, they are then brought by their families to a remote shelter far away from the villages and towns. They live their very much on their own, only supported over years by regular visits from relatives. I have no idea at which time they can safely return home, without having to fear the police or deadly revenge from a enemy clan. But as long as they are up in the mountains living in their shelter, they are of course suspicious about any stranger who, with our without intention could reveal where they hide.
    So whenever you plan a hiking tour through the heart of Sardinia, don’t be surprised if in a remote premise somehwere in the mountains you might meet a young man who is not very keen of socialising with you. He might even try to hide from you in the house, or runs away to hide in the forrest. Believe me, he is not a weirdo, nor a Robinso Crusoe. He is just carful enough to know that as soon as you make a photo with him, and you have a GPS tag installed, or even a GPS navigation tracking function installed on your smart phone, and you than post everything to your Facebook or Instagram account for the whole world to see, his safety is very much endangered.
    I for myself can now be pretty sure that writing about this incidence does not bring anyone in danger anymore. Everything happend about 25 years ago, and although the tradition of Vindicau or blood revenge is still very vital in Sardinia, the two young man there who I met there at their mountain shelters perhaps don’t have to fear revenge against their own person any more. Maybe they all live in their luxury villas with large families of their own now. But maybe, now in times of the Corona-Virus pandemic, they remember that their is a good and safe place deep in the mountains, not only to hide from the policy and enemy clans, but from rather natural threads as well.

    You migth also read the story and see the 1:1 000 000 raod map that I used on my blog


  9. Hi RenxKyoko, thanks a lot for the response. The following link should work better:

    It is a pitty that when this happend, I did not had a camera with me. It was before smartphone cameras or digital photography became standard. But most of it, as you can read, happend really in the dark. So there would not be much to be seen anyway. But I always thought to get back there one day.
    But hold, I could try to find it via Google Earth’ satellite views. I could imagine that these old stone buildings are visible. If so, I will soon update my blog post.
    Enjoy, and stay clear of the CoVid19 super-spreaders.


  10. Philippine, Spain, Italy, Sardenia, Polish ….. just Irland is missing to make you a perfect roman-catholic cosmopolitan.


  11. Posted by theburningheart on April 9, 2020 at 4:57 pm

    Well, Sardinia had change hands too many times, Italy, Moors from North Africa, Catalans, and others, Catalonia which if wanting autonomy from Spain for a time ruled Sardinia, o part of it, Spanish soldiers were garrisoned on Italy and Sardinia during the Habsburg, the Holly Roman Empire: Bohemia, Hungary, Croatia, Galicia, Portugal and Spain with their respective colonies, as well as rulers of several principalities in the Netherlands and Italy.
    So who knows?

    The problem of ancestors is that it is like a root that multiplies from thousands of roots from a common trunk (your parents), it grows exponentially to the past, grandparents, great-grandparents, and beyond, and at one point like bloodlines they all can be find in a single individual as the famous African Lucy so called Eve of Mankind, and sort of like the Genetic equivalent of Six degrees of separation, we are all related. 🙂


    • It’s been said all humans originated from Lucy. But , who knows . I’m just glad to know what else are in my gene cocktail besides Lucy.


  12. Not from Ancestry,com, but from my parents’ recollection– I’m Polish, Irish, English, Austrian and Filipino. Considering only that much known, who knows what else exists since recorded time.


  13. Hi, Sardinia was a member of the Council of Aragon from 1400 – 1700’s I think so there is likely to be greater links between Spain and Sardinia than Sardinia and Italy when it comes to genealogy.


    • Looking at the percentages, my ancestors were most likely Sardinian/ Italian that immigrated to Spain , then to the Philippines. The Philippines was a colony of Spain from 1572 ( or ’71 , though “discovered ” by Ferdinand Magellan in 1521. ) to 1898.


  14. I did my ancestry a couple of years ago. It was so fun. So many of us are from multiple places. It makes the world smaller. 🙂


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