shamash says... : On French Fries and Being American

I moved to Asia to get out of my comfort zone. I wanted to reinvent my life in the opposite hemisphere- so far from home that if I flew any further, I’d be heading back.

Today I ate French fries at the American Club, a hang-out for U.S. citizens living in this country Somewhere in Asia. To be quite frank, I rarely visit the place, even during happy hours or Tex-Mex Fridays. But today, because a school function was held in the softball field, I ate lunch with my fellow citizens of the U.S.A. While a few of my students played pool in the corner, double-decker hamburgers were served at the next table. Outside, beside the pool, the Stars and Stripes flapped in the breeze. There wasn’t a single non-American accent in the place. I didn’t feel strange or foreign or out-of-place. I simply felt normal, and alarmingly comfortable.

I moved to Asia to get out of my comfort zone. I wanted to reinvent my life in the opposite hemisphere- so far from home that if I flew any further, I'd be heading back.

What I have found is that being an American ex-pat is both a blessing and a curse. The blessing is that we get to have a broader view of the world than most stateside citizens. The curse is that we have to deal with the looks of distaste and the ensuing anti-American monologues when we tell people we’re from the U.S. Since the War in Iraq, and especially since George W.’s reelection, Americans abroad have to deal with backlash of our government’s wars and our government’s policies. (See my November 8th post, "God **** America" and the November 12th post, "Red States, Blue States") The American people shocked and disappointed the rest of the world when they re-elected George W. Since we ex-pats are the only Americans that foreigners see face-to-face, we get the brunt of that anger. Many of my fellow-Americans simply tell people they’re from Canada to save themselves the embarrassment. S., a friend from Long Beach, says, “I’m from California- a blue state.”

This is a shame, because many of my friends and I chose the ex-pat life because we were disillusioned with the American lifestyle: the rat race, the materialism, the strip malls. As for me: I am most definitely not a “God bless America and ONLY America” chick. However, I sometimes want to slap (in a very non-Buddhist way) the Euro-whiners who take any opportunity to trash my country, without pointing out the obvious faults of their own countries.

As I looked around at the Americans at the club today, I couldn’t help but notice that all-to-familiar, happy-go-lucky attitude that is so… very… American. You know: that mom-in-her apron, as American as apple pie way of being: the big smiles and the volunteerism and the “Well, how the hell are ya?”, slap-on-the-back way of greeting each other that isn’t replicated anywhere except, sometimes, by Australians. The fact is: America is wonderful and terrible and gorgeous and ugly, and above all: unique. As Thomas L. Friedman writes in the 27 January NY Times: "Europeans love to make fun of naïve American optimism, but deep down, they envy it and they want America to be that open, foreigner-embracing, carefree, goofily enthusiastic place that cynical old Europe can never be. Many young Europeans blame Mr. Bush for making America, since 9/11, into a strange new land that exports fear more than hope, and has become dark and brooding - a place whose greeting to visitors has gone from 'Give me your tired, your poor' to 'Give me your fingerprints.' They look at Mr. Bush as someone who stole something precious from them."

Which brings me back to my French fries at the American Club. They were good. And so were the people there. Why did I feel so comfortable… so at home? Because I didn’t have to defend my country, or explain that I didn’t vote for George W. Instead, I could squirt some ketchup onto my fries in peace.

That, indeed, is something precious.

Comments

once again with baby on lap....

Ya know, I find anger almost everywhere. While I don't encounter people who hate me because I am American, I find people who hate that I breastfeed my 11 month-old son, who hated my bald head, who hate my ideas, who hate the way I parent. It's as though we must all hate something until we fully love ourselves.
We all need our own version of a plate of fries and katchup with no one to stand over us pointing a finger.

Hungry anyone?

Posted by: Datta | Friday, 28 January 2005 at 02:58 PM

I'm very glad to visit your site - it's great and I LOVE the graphics.
I think what you are writing about here is probably true for all of us. I too have my British 'pint of beer int' pub' moments that probably equate to fries (nearly said chips!) and ketchup in American terms.
I don't agree with the writer who says that 'Europeans secretly envy Americans their open welcoming style', but I do know that many of us appreciate and cherish it, and just wish it was more in evidence than the image that is presented by Bush. Inc. It's Americans like you who do much to refurbish the reputation. So don't give up!

Posted by: Amelia | Sunday, 30 January 2005 at 10:18 PM