Outsider

Friday, July 15

I began this day with the most wonderful of things - a cold.

And while I had allergies at the beginning of the trip, this is distinctly a cold. But I hauled my cookies out of bed and trudged off to school for yet another favorite of mine - a test.

I’m being overly dramatic, because really the test wasn’t too bad. I’ll know for sure when we get grades, but we only had to do 10 of the 15 sections of problems, so I feel like I got a better grade for choosing which to do and which not to mark.

And the day just got better, because we had a pretty great evening out. I’ve sort of developed a group of close friends here. Maddy, Matilda, Craig, Leanne, and I usually sit together on break from classes, hang out on excursions, and even go out at night.

Tonight, the five of us went and got drinks and then went to Harry Potter!

The movie was fantastic, and even though it was in Spanish, I still understood almost all of it. I won’t get HP nostalgic in my travel blog, but I will say that I refuse to say the whole thing is over until I’ve seen it in English, just to put off the inevitable.

Afterwards, we went to a bar for awhile with everyone from the program who went to HP, and then a few of us separated and went to the “American diner” while others went out. Peggy Sue’s is an interesting resemblance of 50s Americana, and the food was not at all American. It was too fresh and too real. But it was delicious, and fun.

Here’s a picture of Shelby and Emily, who went with me. Very sweet girls, and a lot of fun to hang out with!

I always wonder how much Chinese people must hate Chinese restaurants in America, because it’s such a sham of their culture. But being in that situation was just interesting and funny, not annoying or offensive at all. It was just a laugh to see the corny diner and to eat some good food, regardless of its authenticity.

Along those lines, there are very few times, but still some significant ones, when I feel like an outsider. When I’m carrying my backpack to the mall to use the internet, and while I’m sitting there using it, I get all sorts of odd looks and I know they’re assuming things about me. Or when I order at a restaurant or bar or pay in a shop, and they say “I speak English.” Part of me wants to shout back, “AND I SPEAK SPANISH, SO WHAT?” but the nicer, more filtered part of me appreciates that they’re just trying to help me and make me feel welcome.

When I’m walking back from school with Maddy and we’re chatting in English, and a little kid points and says something to his mom, it’s an odd sensation. I know he’s not being rude, and I’m not annoyed. It’s just sensational to be in that position, to be the one speaking a foreign language, and to be the object of that little boys imagination as he wonders what country we’re from and what we’re doing here. I know I was always that kid, it’s just fun to see the tables turn.