Week 26 - American Appetites

It’s an unexpected truism that patriotism expresses itself differently when you’re an expat. Take for instance my typical celebration of the 4^th of July in the US: Maybe hanging out with some friends, drink a few beers, eat a few brats, and call it a night after trying to blow something up with tiny explosives. Here—and I have it on good authority in almost every Peace Corps country—the 4^th of July is one of the biggest celebrations of the year. Perhaps it’s because it’s one of only a few US holidays we get to officially recognize here, or perhaps it’s because all the volunteers come—even those from the mythical Oriente (East side of the country)—and you get to see people you ordinarily don’t, but it’s a party atmosphere all weekend.

I ‘m not going to go into too much detail of what I did. Most of it really doesn’t translate well into an anecdote; do you really want to hear about me eating 3 burgers and a hotdog in only a few minutes and then the stomach-situated misery that followed? I didn’t think so, though I will say at the end of the day it was totally worth it.

Instead, I want to focus more on the sense of patriotism, and more generally, the connection I felt to other Americans on that day. I felt it too when I was in Greece in 2008, awaiting the presidential results that would put Obama in the White House. I’m not by nature prone to what more outspoken conservatives would call “patriotism:” I don’t wear a flag pin on my lapel; despite Rush Limbaugh’s abhorrent philosophies, I’m pretty sure he’s not a Nazi; and, except when I’m in the company of a select few, do not elongate—while simultaneously dropping most of the vowels from—the word “terrorist” (Will, you’re a dirty, dirty trrrrist!).

And yet, I find myself feeling pleased to hail from the United States. Is that really patriotism then, if I only feel it with other Americans, a beer and a burger clutched in each hand? I suppose it doesn’t really matter. More important, at least to me at least, is that Guatemala feels a little bit more familiar…

…I’m writing this in a café in Antigua called Y tú piña tambien (And your pineapple also), and the proprietor just came over and offered me a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie. I figured that it deserved a shout-out.

…And now, upon leaving, I see that he charged me for it. Asshole.

But back to the matter at hand: Is it because we are all, at least in some sense, banded together as expats that we express a common ideology? I don’t think so. We’re all in Peace Corps, and I think that forms the basis of our connection. Patriotism is secondary to talent shows that make people look like endearing fools.

Indeed, when I arrived at a bar on the actual 4^th of July (the Peace Corps’ celebration was on Saturday), I was turned off by the profligacy and boorish representation of what being “American” meant to most of the patrons, only a few of which were Peace Corps. Beer was flowing, shots were shooting, and the playlist was chockablock with southern twang. Granted, it was a “redneck” themed party, but still. I’d be remiss if I suggested that I don’t occasionally party also (and let’s face it: The three lead guitars of Lynyrd Skynyrd are hot enough to melt your face off). There are a lot of volunteers who have a problem with how we portray our culture to locals, but what gets me is the projection we’re emitting of America to each other. Is this who we are? Where have I been?

Sorry this installment is so short. I’m still stuck in Antigua while I wait for the roads to be unblocked by protesting farmers and an “emergency security meeting” tomorrow afternoon at the Peace Corps office, whatever that means. My mind is other places at the moment.

Pictures at: https://picasaweb.google.com/sigrinj/Week26?authkey=Gv1sRgCLujsNvIquKIDg