Whenever I meet foreigners, they always tell me that I am unlike other Americans. This used to confuse me a bit because, as far as I'm concerned, I'm just me. I've grown accustomed, though, to the statement, "You're different."
This weekend I found out just how much that statement applies to me.
The South Americans and I stopped at a Dunkin Donuts for a brunch Saturday morning, and after coordinating all the orders, we sat down with our collection of donuts and flatbread sandwiches and coffee. Lots of coffee. Because Brazilians like--no love--coffee.
It wasn't long before I heard, "Voce comi?" followed by an offer of whatever someone had to eat. I ate. Right off the food, and often right after someone else had already taken a bite. There's no such thing as breaking off a piece of food. You just jump right in.
My American friends were all a bit grossed out by this.
"You don't even know these people!" they would shout. That's true, but there's something about literally sharing a meal that is bonding. The entire event is a social excursion, and it doesn't stop at food. Each time someone took a drink of water or soda from a bottle, it would be passed around to everyone in the vicinity. This also happened for chapstick and lipstick.
Our sleeping arrangements were even more confounding to my fellow Americans. After shopping and walking around Downtown Disney, we settled into our hotel room and started the shower processional. I was next to last in line, and when I stepped out of the bathroom in my sleeping attire, I was told, "Choose whichever bed you want to sleep in." Option A contained mom and niece. Option B contained sister and nephew.
As I put away my things, the 8-year old nephew jumped up and asked, "Tia, are you going to sleep with me?"
How could I resist such a request?
So I climbed in bed and settled in. The sister and I talked in my limited Portuguese about teaching and language. As I think about it now, it was some of the sweetest pillow talk I've ever been a part of. We eventually fell asleep, and I was stirred a few times by the sounds of a Portuguese conversation from the other bed or an 8-year old snuggled up against me in the darkness.
Such bliss! Yet, the Americans still responded with, "But you don't even know them!" None of that mattered because at the end of the day we're all human. I like the fact that we were able to exist in such a communal manner.
This entire experience was one of openness and acceptance in a way that most of us experience few--and often never--in a lifetime. I'm honored to have been a part of it.
So, yeah, I guess I'm really not like most Americans.
This weekend I found out just how much that statement applies to me.
The South Americans and I stopped at a Dunkin Donuts for a brunch Saturday morning, and after coordinating all the orders, we sat down with our collection of donuts and flatbread sandwiches and coffee. Lots of coffee. Because Brazilians like--no love--coffee.
It wasn't long before I heard, "Voce comi?" followed by an offer of whatever someone had to eat. I ate. Right off the food, and often right after someone else had already taken a bite. There's no such thing as breaking off a piece of food. You just jump right in.
My American friends were all a bit grossed out by this.
"You don't even know these people!" they would shout. That's true, but there's something about literally sharing a meal that is bonding. The entire event is a social excursion, and it doesn't stop at food. Each time someone took a drink of water or soda from a bottle, it would be passed around to everyone in the vicinity. This also happened for chapstick and lipstick.
Our sleeping arrangements were even more confounding to my fellow Americans. After shopping and walking around Downtown Disney, we settled into our hotel room and started the shower processional. I was next to last in line, and when I stepped out of the bathroom in my sleeping attire, I was told, "Choose whichever bed you want to sleep in." Option A contained mom and niece. Option B contained sister and nephew.
As I put away my things, the 8-year old nephew jumped up and asked, "Tia, are you going to sleep with me?"
How could I resist such a request?
So I climbed in bed and settled in. The sister and I talked in my limited Portuguese about teaching and language. As I think about it now, it was some of the sweetest pillow talk I've ever been a part of. We eventually fell asleep, and I was stirred a few times by the sounds of a Portuguese conversation from the other bed or an 8-year old snuggled up against me in the darkness.
Such bliss! Yet, the Americans still responded with, "But you don't even know them!" None of that mattered because at the end of the day we're all human. I like the fact that we were able to exist in such a communal manner.
This entire experience was one of openness and acceptance in a way that most of us experience few--and often never--in a lifetime. I'm honored to have been a part of it.
So, yeah, I guess I'm really not like most Americans.
Comments