Where are you from?

Everyone in our barrio knows who we are, and more importantly, that we are not from here.  No matter where we go, as soon as we open our mouths, someone is bound to ask us the dreaded question, "where are you from?"  For example, an average conversation at the fruiteria might go something like this (in Spanish, of course):

Me: "Hi, I would like four red apples and four bananas."
Owner: "Ok, where are you from?"

This used to irritate me to no end, especially when I thought my pronunciation was spot on.  No matter how hard I tried to sound like an Argentine, people stared at me like I was from Mars.  One time, after the third person that day asked me where I was from, I had had enough.  The object of my frustration was an innocent barista at a coffee shop.  Exasperated, I asked him what gave me away.  The answer?  He said, "you just sound different."

At first I was a little put off.  I thought, how can I not sound different?  Then I realized, maybe I will always sound different because I am different, just a little anyway, and it's not necessarily a bad thing. 

Yes, the guy at the bakery knows that we are from the United States, but he remembers our order before we even get to the counter.  Yes, the cashier at the market greets us in English, but he never fails to speak to us.  And yes, the man at the fruiteria thinks we sound different, but he gives us free pears.

The truth is, because we are different, we have made friends.  Most of the conversations we have had are because someone has asked us where we are from.  The woman at the bookstore and the waiter at the pizza place are two examples of people that have spoken to us because our deficiencies in Spanish have given us away.    

Before coming here, I prided myself on my ability to speak Spanish.  In my classes at the university, I excelled. Unfortunately, everything I've studied could not have prepared me for Argentina.  The accent is different, the intonation, the conjugations of the verbs, even the name of the language (Spanish is called Castellano in Argentina).  Most of the time I sound like an eight-year-old.   

But this trip is not about me showing off my Spanish fluency.  In fact, this trip isn't about me at all.  This trip is about using my differences and deficiencies to point everyone around me to someone much greater than me.  The free fruit is a bonus.