The Exotic American

Photographer Photographing Photographer
Originally uploaded by Blue Dragonfly Girl

I never suspected that I would be exotic here in Brazil. However, it appears that I was wrong and Mario Quintana was right.

For example, the last time I went to an emergency hospital here in Porto Alegre, the nurse was totally smitten with the idea of my foreignness and my ability to express myself in Portuguese. He was super friendly as he took my blood pressure and my temperature. And then later, as I passed by in the hall, he made sure to happily announce to other hospital staff, "You know she's American, don't you?!"

The other morning at my internship, I sat drinking a cafezinho in the kitchen with E., coordinator of a program for adolescents that I participate in.

We were talking about the difficult situation that one of the kids was in, how hard it could be to see this, how sometimes one felt one's actions were ineffectual or just not enough.

"Yeah," I said, "That reminds me of a conversation I had with a cab driver last night. He asked me, 'Why on earth would you choose to be a social worker?!?' and I said to him, 'Well you have to have hope, you have to believe in something you know, even if --'"

And E. stopped me, "Wait!" he said, "Why did the cab driver know that you were a social worker?"

"Well, I told him," I said, "It's part of the general conversation for me, you know. I get in a cab. They say, 'You have a funny accent. Where are you from? Why are you here?' and it goes from there. I don't think this guy had ever met an American before. He had lots of questions for me such as what poverty looks like over there, how people act, what their customs are...I get to be exotic here."

E. started laughing at me, "Exotic, ha! You, exotic?!"

Ha, okay, so not everyone considers me exotic that's for sure, but I've run into quite a few people here who have never seen one of me before.

"I know, I know," I said, blushing a little, "Not something I ever expected to be."

"Don't you mind having to answer all these questions all the time?" E asked.

"Nah," I said, "I mean usually people are really nice. I think they're just curious. So I might as well be a good ambassador."

E. raised and eyebrow and looked at me skeptically. Then someone came in and asked an administrative question and the conversation went to other places. But I have to say that it's kind of fun to be a little exotic, a little different, especially in a place where I can actually manage to blend in...until I open my mouth and start talking.

This is what Mario Quintana has to say on the matter:

I'm suspicious of those tourists that consider the places they've visited to be exotic. They stay outside, seeing the picturesque in everything: the houses, the clothes, the customs, the beliefs...
And they aren't even suspicious that only exotic note in those defenseless countries is precisely themselves!

 (Desconfio desses turistas que consideram exóticos os países visitados. Ficam de fora, vendo o pitoresco em tudo: nas casa, nas roupas, nos costumes, nas crenças...
E nem desconfiam que a única nota exótica desses indefesos países são precisamente eles!)

Typical

Under the Highway
Originally uploaded by Blue Dragonfly Girl

I've always wanted to avoid being the "typical American tourist." Part of that comes from growing up on an island that quadruples in size during the summer. Tourists cross the street there as though they are in Disneyland and the roads (and the cars in them) are make-believe.

So, I never wanted to be perceived as a tourist. And, especially in my teens, I'd go out of my way to pretend that I wasn't one. Even if I was completely lost. I do recall being flattered at being confused for a Spaniard at age 16 when I was studying in Granada. However, the confused people were American tourists asking me in broken Spanish if I knew how to get to the nearest McDonald's. The locals weren't fooled.

And so I sometimes felt that I didn't want to be perceived as an American. It had something to do with the stereotype of American tourists as boorish and uncouth. I didn't want to be labeled that way.

Yesterday, I saw a piece titled "My American Friends" posted by friend of mine on Facebook, who for a while was an American living in England. I thought it offered a different (or perhaps more nuanced) perspective of what us Americans can be like when we travel abroad. In the article, Geoff Dyer writes:

"The archetypal American abroad is perceived as loud and crass even though actually existing American tourists are distinguished by the way they address bus drivers and bartenders as “sir” and are effusive in their thanks when any small service is rendered. We look on with some confusion at these encounters because, on the one hand, the Americans seem a bit country-bumpkinish, and, on the other, good manners are a form of sophistication."

The article's worth a read and you can go here to find it.

It'll be interesting to experience what it is like to be an American in Brazil. I'll be especially curious to hear what the kids I'll be working with have to say about Americans and America.

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Reference:

Dyer, G. (2009, December 31). My American friends. The New York Times. http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/03/books/review/Dyer-t.html