Buenos Ay-ya-ya-res

It is obvious that I am a foreigner here, but for some reason people are unwilling to guess that I am from the United States.  I have gotten a lot of Irish, some British, one day a cab driver asked me if I was Russian or Croatian, and the other day, Susannah (my roommate, from Chicago, blonde hair) and I were asked if we were Brazilian!  I wonder why this is.  And at times I find the confusion very flattering, which concerns me a bit.  At first stab, possibly my flattery stems from the fact that I am speaking with less of an accent and it is harder and harder to distinguish where I am from.  Or maybe it is the way I dress.  I do love being a fashion enigma.

But what I really think is at the heart of it is that people assume that they don’t like Americans.  Or rather, they have such a strong idea about what American travelers are like, and when I don’t do the things they expect, they eliminate USA from the list of possible countries.  So, should I be flattered that I am not thought to be an American? 

It is not the easiest time in the history of the US to be outside the country.  Our international reputation is not doing so hot.  And while most people I have encountered do not hold the choices of the US government against me, there is a lot of prejudice against Americans to combat.

Nonetheless, I am not comfortable lying about who I am.  I understand why people pose as Canadian when they are abroad–not because they are ashamed of where they are from, but rather because they are not treated like the rest of travelers, they are refused from hostels, given bad service at restaurants, or made to debate American policy at every social gathering, making a vacation anything but relaxing.  I get it.  I don’t condemn anyone who makes that decision.

I just can’t do it.  With all great privilege comes great responsibility; if I was lucky enough to be randomly born into the US, I am unlucky enough as well.  So, if I am upfront about my American-ness, why would I be flattered by someone guessing I am from elsewhere?  I guess there is a part of me that hopes I am giving a good impression and that when people assume I am not from the US and then they learn I am that maybe our reputation will improve.

Or maybe we have to stop occupying countries for our reputation to really improve.  I am probably putting too much stock into my diplomatic finesse.

Hola amigos!

So I moved to Buenos Aires.  Came here as a backpacker in February, stayed for 2 months, and moved here in June.  The city just felt like home.  Well.  No.  Providence is my home.  But the city felt so liveable and as though I needed to live it, so I made my decision.

I am really enjoying my time here.  It feels like even a day when I do close to nothing is a huge adventure.  Never being much of a language person, I am very proud of the strides I have made with my Spanish.  Sure, I sometimes tell people I am horny when I mean to say that it is too hot outside, sure I sometimes tell people I love them when I mean to say I believe them.  Sure, I sound like a 2 year old.  But people understand me and I understand them.  Oddly enough, they think it’s cute.

As a first post, I feel like I need to rehash everything that has happened in the five months I have spent here, but that is just so boring.  It will come out in future posts.  In short, it looks like I will be here for 2 more years.  Plenty of time to make everything clearer.

So, yeah, here goes my Internet diary.  The word blog makes me nervous.  I hope I keep this up.  Ok.  Yeah.  That’s it.