I'm an American, and so are you!

Just a few cultural tidbits to share with everyone...(I'm going to list it like Rebecca M.)

1. Sarcasm: Now, it isn't that I'm claiming that sarcasm does not exist in this country, but I sure haven't encountered it. Furthermore, everytime I take a stab at it, everyone thinks I'm serious.

"¿Qué?"

"No, no. Una broma." No, no. It's a joke.

Of course, I am trying out sarcasm in my second language, and I'm accompanying the Spanish words with the culturally appropriate American gestures. So, maybe, I'm just not doing it right. However, it's disturbing to see 14 wide-eyed faces staring at you over the conference table with little thought bubbles forming, "This gringa's crazy."

2. Elevators: So you know how awkward Americans are in elevators? We all get in trying so hard not to touch each other and, then, commence to staring at the little numbers lighting up above the door. And, if anyone violates our elevator norms, we become extremely uncomfortable. Peruvians are exactly the same. One thing I didn't have to adjust to.

3. Identity: Most Peruvians guess first that I am Colombian (I have no idea why). Their next guess is Spanish, then usually France or Holland. I usually have to play this game in cabs, on buses, in bodegas, and in the supermarkets. My favorite is when they think I don't speak Spanish so they try to guess amongst themselves. Here's how the conversation went the first couple of times (translated into English for your reading pleasure):

"Are you French?"

"No, I'm American."

This is the part in which I receive a really puzzled look. "So am I," my interlocutor responds.

A little light bulb comes on in my head. Oh yeah, that's technically true. The culturally appropriate response is then, "Oh, well, I'm North American or norteamericana."

That usually satisfies them, unless they want to play a third round of "Are you Canadian or United States...ian (in Spanish it is estadounidense).

At first, I was pretty confused about not being understood when I called myself "American." I mean, heck, that's what I am. So, I thought. Here, I am norteamericana or estadounidense. I usually say the former, because the latter is harder to get out of your mouth. But, now, I like it. When I say, "I am American," I am grouping myself in with Colombians, Mexicans, Canadians, Argentines, Chileans, and Peruvians. In a country in which I stick out like a sore (very tall, white) thumb, I get to say that we all have something in common. We are all American. How's that for turning national identity on it's head?