However ungraceful, it was a fitting response.

This weekend The Pirate and I went to a concert put on by a local collective of musicians. Outside music is fun anywhere, weather dependant, but I especially enjoy music in warm weather, under the starry Guadeloupean night sky. There was an impressive sound system: sound engineer and everything. Pas mal, not bad at all.

It's normal with this type of group that they're doing it for the love of the music and the social aspect, but alas, there needs to be some money. Instruments and equipment don't come cheap. There was food and beverage available, as well as t-shirts with the name of the collective. It was, in essence, a mini Guadapalooza, and I had a great time.
...until the end. I was searching for my bag that I left hanging on a chair someplace when...

"You forgot something?"
"Yeah, my bag, got it!...See you later..."
"Oh, are you English, or where are you from?"
"I'm American..California"
"Oh, we normally don't like Americans here very much"

So, I flipped him off.
Graceful? Not really. Automatic stupid response to a stupid statement? Yes. Am I sorry for it? Not at all. I didn't do anything to provoke the statement he made about Americans. I think that was unfair.

The Pirate and I differ on opinion on this one, and it was quite a point of contention for a day or two. He thinks I should have won the guy over by remaining calm and making him explain himself. Sure, that would have been cool, but in my mind a waste of my energy. He had already made up his mind, eh?

I don't hate the guy. I just don't feel it's my job to make him like me or any other American. I don't represent all Americans. There are certainly Americans I would refuse to represent, like for example a number of individuals who don't agree with gay marriage, and hate a whole bunch of people based on their religion/race/outlook on God.

I'm thinking a lot after this little interaction. What will I do differently the next time? Honestly, I don't know. The strange thing is, I can see things from that guys perspective if I try. Consider for a moment the number of people who have never set foot in the states, or have visited a limited piece of the states. What must the states look like to them? One big Starbucks/Hooters/McDonalds/GW Bush loving place? It's possible! At the same time, I think, hey schmuck, ever been to San Francisco? Where people rally in the streets for the rights of people in different parts of the world? Where there are people working for new clean energy initiatives? Also, I'm fairly certain that more than half of my American friends speak a second language. Open your eyes to things outside the 'news' on tv, online, and on your social networking site of choice. That's not a complete reality, and it's not something to judge an entire people by.

I don't think America is the 'best nation in the world'. I don't think any place is for that matter. I think it's subjective, to a point.

Well, there you have it. A little rant, a little rationalization. When I bump into him again, which I'm certain I will here on this island, I'll give it a better go. Maybe I'll even try to explain myself in French. Aie aie aie...



Afterthoughtfoodforthought.....

I found a nice summary on expatriatism here:
I especially like this excerpt:
"I do not believe America is evil. I do not think other countries, with the exception of Iceland, are “better,” or at least not much better. And I regard the idea that America is the “greatest nation on earth” as the kind of Barnumesqe mildew that grows on the brains of gun lobbyists, NASCAR addicts and people from Alabama generally. Like a pretty good novel, America has a pretty good story to tell. But as the hearings for judge Sonja Sotomayor just demonstrated, it can sound ugly in the mouths of dumb southern lawyers who get elected to the United States Senate."

Dating in another language, or, how to not be funny.

Sometimes I think I'm funny. You know, in my own head. Often I make the mistake of saying my funny thoughts out loud and they are met by blank stares. The Pirate thinks I am very funny. Laughing at me and laughing with me are two different things, but I don't want to split hairs.

I've been butchering learning French for eight months and still can't crack a joke or successfully use sarcasm. I don't pick up on it when it's coming my way either. It's kind of a drag, but then again, maybe people just aren't funny here. I don't know, I mean, living in Guadeloupe requires a certain level of humor just to not strangle someone every time the internet goes out. (read: a few times a day.)

The Pirate is a clever little bugger. He speaks four languages fluently. Ain't that a bitch when you're in Puerto Rico together and this sexy little thing comes up and they can just Espanol away, while I stand there hoping they're not planning their getaway right under my inferior bilingual nose. He wouldn't do that though, because clearly, I rock. I mean, I have a blog.
So, since The Pirate speaks English better than many native speakers I know, I talk at a pretty fast clip with him, at my normal pace. Now, I hail from the northeastern US, so really it's pretty fast. We joke around a lot. But from time to time, I crack a great joke that just ....passes him in both lanes. Whooosh! Not because he doesn't get it, but because I spoke too fast while not looking at him, or while my mouth was full of food, the latter being more likely. So it will go something like this:

Moi:"(insert incredibly clever thing to say here, based on context)"
Pirate:"What?"
Moi:"(repeat incredibly clever thing a bit louder)"
Pirate:"Whu...wait...because he did that then it's a what...?"
Moi:"(Insert half of incredibly clever thing, slower, with half the enthusiasm, and half smile. I'm not laughing anymore)"
Pirate:"Ohhhh..wait...what was the last part again?"
Moi:"(Incredibly clever thing. Slowly. No smile. I feel stupid now because I've been forced to repeat my clever thing so many times that now it doesn't appear so clever. I swear I hear that music that plays on tv when jokes fail: wuh wuh wuh wuuuuuhhhhh)"
Pirate: laughs....explains that he understands, only, he has mistaken some word or reference for something else entirely, but somehow it's still funny for him.
Me:"GAWD! Forget it!!"

Talk about lost in translation! Not to mention what a total witch I am! When this happens in reverse, I must confess that The Pirate somehow STILL makes me laugh even though I'm not getting the joke. He's so clever.

"It's white sox all the way back to the boat. Careful, they're marked."

I'd like to discuss what I believe is an epidemic. Although I'm fairly certain there has never been any formal research done, I just know there are other experts out there like moi who have been witnesses. The epidemic, people, is socks. White socks. Long, slightly slouched down but slightly pulled up, clean as if new, White. Socks.

I can't find any correlation that sticks, but there are some common ones:

White socks (always as previously described, unless otherwise noted) with:
-Puffy, clean, marshmallow-like white sneakers. Probably reserved for indoor use only.
-No socks.
-Topsiders or other boat worthy shoes.
-People on cruises.
-People who mall-walk.
-People in pictures from the 80's.
-People wearing black shoes. If you're not MJ, you can't. So then nobody can can they because the dude isn't alive. RIP.
-Socks with sandals. Just..no. N.O. no.

I thought at one time that this was an American specific epidemic. Mais non. I have witnessed other nationalities white-socking it. What I don't understand is, with all the variety and oh, have I mentioned fashion choices out there in terms of comfortable, athletic footwear and accompanying socks, why would you reach out your hand for the set that might as well come with a bullhorn so that you can yell, "Rip me off! I am nervous about the amount of walking I'm going to be doing, so I've got on these super duper comfortable, discreet socks here to bolster me! You there! Two streets away! You ready for me? I'm looking for a bargain and I know you've got one for me! I've never even heard of Puma or Converse! Reebok three-strap Velcro forever!"

Now, I review this and I think, wow, I am a total bitch. But you know what? I'm not alone. When I mentioned this to a friend in Mexico - at a stop on our cruise - he knew exactly what I was talking about. In fact when we left him, with about seven blocks to walk back to the ferry, he warned us that it would be white socks the rest of the way down the road. He knows this is the way to spot the tourists. We didn't want to be lumped into this category even though we were also on the cruise ship. We opted for flip flops, which, on a rainy day in the streets of Mexico, in a part of town where the sewage backs up in storms, left us feeling totally awesome about not having sneakers and big white socks. Totally. Awesome. Clean, too. Real clean.


just for fun, and also to prove that I am not alone:
fashion questions the white sock.
tacky tourists in Lisbon and white socks.
This is so awesome and relevant that I almost made a whole seperate entry about it!!

You know what's wicked fun? Coming home from vacation to find an ant nest. In your kitchen. Super!

So I really, really, REALLY can't complain about my life. Sure, some stuff really blows wind up my skirt, but then the wind dies down, y'know, it's all good.
So the wind this time is ants. Lots of them. Teeny, tiny ants eating a perfectly good wooden wine rack thingy. Now, who's to say that this doesn't happen elsewhere. Not me. I recall my father using superbly creative forms of the F word to describe the damage done by termites to a wall in the tv room.

THE TV ROOM.

It is strictly forbidden to do harm to this room at my parents house. In fact, now that I think of it I recall my father using even more creative forms of the F word among other four letter words (some three) to describe what was happening to the area of the rug where my mom would do aerobics ala Jane Fonda in front of the tv. Sacred space.

So, the ants. These freaking ants were marching from the sliding glass doors to the top of the cabinets. Couldn't for the life of me figure out why. Nothin' up there. So, I got up on the counter to peek at the top. Eeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwww. Then I left the nest for the Pirate to clean when he got home. Ain't love grand?