While I watched the video of my host parents' wedding ceremony last night so that my cliche American desire of attending an Indian wedding might be at least partly fulfilled, my host dad told me about his German friend at the marriage who kept leaning over chairs to take pictures. Though he came across as ridiculous and stuck out like a sore foreign thumb, my host dad instead complimented him on his lack of embarrassment. I think we're all likewise accepting our foreignness as time passes, because frankly, what else can we do? Although we get stares, I think I've gotten used to it and, if it's going to happen no matter what, might as well embrace it.
Thus, if you happened to see fourteen loud and obnoxious American teenagers wearing matching red polo shirts entering a McDonald's on the Fourth of July, taking videos of each other doing poorly organized choreographed dances, know that there was no shame (fine, a little shame) in their actions.
At the same time, we have the responsibility of representing our nation. The knowledge that we are the forefront of American grassroots diplomacy is a burden we're privileged and honored to carry at all times. After all, we're probably the first Americans most of the kids here have ever met, and the briefest of rude gestures or unfriendliness can be the seeds of negative stereotypes. And stereotypes here, in my brief experience, seem less discouraged than in the United States. On multiple occasions negative attitudes towards the British, Chinese, Muslims, and Africans have been blatantly expressed to me, so generalizing attitudes seem to stick around and spread here. It's our duty to promote our own opinions, respect others', and show a positive face of America when a plurality of foreigners think of drone strikes and fast food before curious and respectful teenagers. For all the importance of language learning, I imagine this side of NSLI-Y is equally crucial. It's what the State Department is indirectly paying for, many years down the road.
But in the meantime, we're having a good time. When you're singing the national anthem to an assembly hall of Indian children on Independence Day before heading out for French fries and milkshakes, there's a lot of fun involved. As I taught my host family (and they laughed for a full five minutes,) YOLO.
