Ways In Which I Am Obviously Foreign: No. 1

Things That Make me Happy
Originally uploaded by Blue Dragonfly Girl

There are clearly many ways in which I'm obviously not Brazilian. These ways become evident from the moment I open my mouth and say something (and sometimes before).

However, there are other more subtle ways, that I hadn't anticipated, and am slowly discovering.

Way No. 1: I like milk in my tea.

This is incredibly strange here.

I remember when I first brewed up some chai in A.'s kitchen. When she saw me putting milk into it, she said, "Oh, milk?! I don't think I'll like that." She didn't try any.

I thought it was just her personal taste until a few days later I went out for coffee with a professor and a doctoral student at a university cafe. I asked for black tea and when they served it with sugar packets on the side, I wondered aloud if there was any milk.

Both the professor and the doctoral student smiled broadly. "That's not normal here," they said, "You'll have to make a point to ask for milk."

"Wow, you're just like my grandmother," said the professor, "She too liked milk in her tea, despite what anyone else said."

And then last night I was hanging out with a Brazilian who is considering doing a Master's in counseling in an English-speaking country. We ordered some herbal tea at a beautiful cafe with a view of the water.

"So you see," I said, "I've recently discovered that I do some things considered weird here."

He looked at me waiting for whatever "weird" thing I was going to say.

"For example," I said, "I like milk in my tea."

He started trying to suppress laughter.

"See!" I said, "You're laughing too."

"Yeah," he said, "I think I used to have milk in my tea as a young child, but not anymore. What kind of tea are you talking about?"

"Well, black tea," I said.

"Is it different from our black tea?" he asked.

"Nope, it's the same. I just like milk in it."

He shook his head, amused.

And there you have it.

Ways In Which I Am Obviously Foreign: No. 1

Who's Your Mama? Who's Your Daddy?

Originally uploaded by Blue Dragonfly Girl

So, I'm reading all the requirements for the Brazilian student ID card and I laugh and say to A., "Huh, a document that shows the name of my parents. Well, I certainly don't have that with me."

She looked up, surprised. "What do you mean, you don't have that?"

"Well," I said, "I mean, I didn't think I'd need to bring my birth certificate with me to Brazil."

"You don't have their names on any other document?"

"Um, no."

"C'mon, didn't you need their names when you got your driver's license?"

"Nope."

"Well, their names will be on your passport then. At least, that."

"Nope, my parents' names are definitely not on my passport."

A. sighed. "Such individualism in the US. It's like immediately you forget that you came from somewhere and you act as though you're not connected to anyone. Like you were born all on your own. Sometimes, I think the independence is good, but at other times I wonder."

Funny these cultural differences that I take for granted, such as (n)ever needing to provide documentation of my parents' names. They seem like small details, but clearly they can represent something much larger too.