I was in the middle of explaining to a store clerk that my family and I just moved to London when he complimented me on how well I spoke English...
"Why, I can understand you perfectly," he added for good measure.
I clarified that's GREAT especially since we just moved here from the UNITED STATES of AMERICA (but thank you, nonetheless).
Even though I'm perfectly aware that I'm SHORTER and BROWNER than most folks, I tend to forget that I'm Filipino sometimes. Having been born and raised in the US, it's not like it really impacted my daily life.
I shopped at Wal-Mart, celebrated Thanksgiving with green bean casserole, and pled the fifth just like everyone else I knew. I grew up with Saturday morning cartoons and sugary cereal. I even know all of the Presidents and state capitols.
When nosy people ask where I'm from, I always say, "the US" and leave it at that, but I know what they are really after...
As one of the locals so quaintly pointed out during our recent trip to Greece, "No, no. You're not an American. Not in the face. Now, where… you… from?"
Okay, so if pressed further, I will begrudgingly clarify by saying that my parents are from the Philippines, but I am from America. This is then usually followed by one of the following:
When it comes to identifying with a people... I'll have the Sonic Buger, onion rings, and a Cherry Limeade. Umm, better make that a Butterfinger Blast. (Mmm, Sonic...)
I knew moving to London was going to be a bit of "culture clash". What I didn't consider was how many cultures would be clashing...
For instance, the closest food market to us is a Middle Eastern/Polish grocery with no less than 25 types of salami and a separate sections for pierogois. The store clerks speak to one another in their native language, but not to anyone else...
The other night, I went there to buy authentic Greek yogurt when I overheard a couple nearby arguing in French. I walked past them quickly and ran into a group of girls dressed in hijab and discussing Mexican food.
If you think I'm joking, here's a photo of the frozen peas I also purchased that night...
The packaging is written in Arabic, even the heating instructions. Fortunately, I already know how to defrost peas. What I don't know if how to operate my British appliances...
What is this Celsius, they speak of?
"Why, I can understand you perfectly," he added for good measure.
I clarified that's GREAT especially since we just moved here from the UNITED STATES of AMERICA (but thank you, nonetheless).
Even though I'm perfectly aware that I'm SHORTER and BROWNER than most folks, I tend to forget that I'm Filipino sometimes. Having been born and raised in the US, it's not like it really impacted my daily life.
I shopped at Wal-Mart, celebrated Thanksgiving with green bean casserole, and pled the fifth just like everyone else I knew. I grew up with Saturday morning cartoons and sugary cereal. I even know all of the Presidents and state capitols.
When nosy people ask where I'm from, I always say, "the US" and leave it at that, but I know what they are really after...
As one of the locals so quaintly pointed out during our recent trip to Greece, "No, no. You're not an American. Not in the face. Now, where… you… from?"
Okay, so if pressed further, I will begrudgingly clarify by saying that my parents are from the Philippines, but I am from America. This is then usually followed by one of the following:
"No, I can't converse in Tagalog, but I can understand it when spoken."Okay, that last one was just a joke, but you get my point. I am proud of my heritage, but it's just tedious to explain to the casual acquaintance or souvenir vendor.
"Yes, I've been to the Philippines and yes, it is quite lovely."
"No, I will not clean your house/ know your next door neighbors' cousin's wife's who is also Filipino/ make you chicken adobo."
When it comes to identifying with a people... I'll have the Sonic Buger, onion rings, and a Cherry Limeade. Umm, better make that a Butterfinger Blast. (Mmm, Sonic...)
I knew moving to London was going to be a bit of "culture clash". What I didn't consider was how many cultures would be clashing...
For instance, the closest food market to us is a Middle Eastern/Polish grocery with no less than 25 types of salami and a separate sections for pierogois. The store clerks speak to one another in their native language, but not to anyone else...
The other night, I went there to buy authentic Greek yogurt when I overheard a couple nearby arguing in French. I walked past them quickly and ran into a group of girls dressed in hijab and discussing Mexican food.
If you think I'm joking, here's a photo of the frozen peas I also purchased that night...
The packaging is written in Arabic, even the heating instructions. Fortunately, I already know how to defrost peas. What I don't know if how to operate my British appliances...
What is this Celsius, they speak of?
3 comments:
Oh yes, Celsius. What a gigantic pain that must be. I was never very good with quick kitchen math anyway.
Glad y'all arrived safely, mmmm Sonic.
This is going to be a fabulous experience. Just keep repeating that to yourself, K :-)
Wow, how exciting for you!! I haven't been keeping up to date with my fave bloggers so I had no clue you moved to London, so I do have some catching up to do. BTW, I'm American Indian and have a word that refers to my heritage tattooed on my arm, I often forget it's even there and when I wear a tank top, I get bombarded with questions about the meaning, so I totally understand where you are coming from lol!
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