Ethnocenticisms, Maniacal Foreign Santa Claus's, and shit-slinging, & soccer shorts

Day 7

And so it continues, everyone here meets everyone else by vacating the same space. There are two questions exchanged, "What' s your name?" and "Where are you from?" The first answer I've got down and it seems nearly every person from every country in the world can pronounce my name and I botch theirs somewhat correctly on the sixth try. The second question is another issue. Everyone from a different country knows the name of my state and it's location. And, this is when the lying begins. They tell me the name of their foreign country and cheerfully ask if I know where that is. I used to ask them all sorts of geographical and non-geographical questions ("Singapore, huh? That's where they cut off your hand for shoplifting, right?") no one was amused and everyone understood straight away how much of an idiot I am. But, how do you explain that it is not me personally, but the ethnocentric schooling I was raised in and not sound like I'm using it as a petty excuse. It probably falls into the realm of, I could have read a book outside of school, but I watched Jenny Jones. So, in the great tradition of American's abroad, I fake it. That's right, I fake it. "Oh, Singapore, I hear it's gorgeous there."

Sometimes, if you can fake it long enough the stranger is still talking to you, next you cover the weather in each other's home countries and each other's majors. But, rarely, you will make it past all that and get to learn things like in Iceland a Santa Claus-ish character comes down 13 times from the mountains and leaves presents in your shoes. All of that is fine and good but, the real dish is if you were a naughty kid you get a potato. And, your mom cooks it for you and you have to eat it. Hell, if she'd fry it I'd be naughty forever.

The real jewel of these meetings is if you can find somebody who laughs (unforced) at your jokes and then starts slinging the shit. Telling you all about your new bosses love life, people they know who did stupid stuff and sex jokes. Then you can fall in with the story about the slanty-eyed lunchroom witch you've been dying to tell and your listener's like, "That skag." And, the best part is that you can tell each other how much like home it is when you talk smack and they laugh and agree to become your co-conspirator in nastiness.

Oh, blessed day.

-Canadian Castaway

End Note: In this country people are required to wear funny, mismatched shorts to play soccer. I was asked to join in on a game. I told them I didn't have the proper shorts. Are you kidding me, all that running, I'd rather eat gummy soda bottles and put drivel on the web. ;P