When you start to forget you’re ‘not from around here’

yankeebean
I just read a post by one my new fave bloggers, Miss America, about ‘Being a Foreigner, But Not a Tourist’*. It triggered a blog that’s been stuck to my brain lately (gotta take care of that, don’t want it getting infected.)
She mentioned that she doesn’t feel like a tourist any more (no more taking pics of all the 17th century buildings, etc.), but that she DOES feel like a foreigner – and she wonders if she’ll ever fit in.
We’ve all been there, my fellow members of the expat experience** – the whole ‘this is my home now, but I still get stared at in pubs when I order a laahh-gerr’ sensation. But the weird thing is that I’m starting to forget that I’m different.
I went out for a falafel extravaganza with Mr. Nice Guy today and the cashier said, “And where are you from?”. I swear, I had a split second of shock that I had been ‘picked out’ as different. And the fact that it came as a shock made me feel strange. In fact, it STILL makes me feel strange. Kinda gives me the heebs…
It’s not that I think I’m English – I still feel 115% USA a-ok. It’s almost more that people don’t seem English OR American any more - like we’re all just Eng-merican Ame-nglish… or whatever the nationality-equivalent is of the colour grey.
I have a feeling this is how it’s going to be from now on. I feel at ease and at home here, I fit wit da Brits, but my twag will forever give me away. I can live with that…
* Miss America’s blog has unfortunately disappeared sometime after I wrote this post
**band name!! Who’s with me???
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