I’m asked this question frequently. “Where you from?” My answer, “Philly.” In Spain the answer is “Estados Unidos.” No…but where are you really from is what they want to know. I’ve deduced this to be subtext for your skin is a bit dark, your hair too, and oh yeah, your nose is…well…big. Then comes the guessing. Over the years I’ve heard: Greek, Italian, Mexican, Israeli, Arab (not a place), Nepali, twice, (really?), and several more. Eastern European Jew seems to be about last on most people’s lists…that’s fine with me. But at this point it’s becoming absurd.
A few days ago Chelo asked me posed the same question to me. Hers was a bit more flattering, indicating that I fit in well as a Spaniard (despite her semi-frequent grammatical corrections). I could easily pass, she said. I suppose this would be true if I didn’t open my mouth. Except then she follows the comment by complimenting my language skills. Go figure.
But the icing on the cake came last night. Out with an old friend from my study abroad in Sevilla, we meet two of her friends at the metro Anton Martin. Her friends introduce themselves to me. A Texan named Kate asks me, completly earnest “Como te llamas?” I pause. She thinks I am Spanish. I momentarily toy with the idea of playing along. Instead I’ll take the gratification that I can blend…at least in Spain. Next trip I’ll have to try to pass in Nepal.
this is fun to read jake! a texan named kate? did you meet my friend kate prichard? blonde? lives in bcn now?