Melting Pot

Being that Montpellier is a big university town, and being that I’m in a program that attracts people from around the globe to teach their respective languages, I’ve had plenty of opportunities for cultural exchange. One thing I’ve noticed from these interactions is that no matter how cliché it sounds, I’m still amazed that people from different countries really aren’t all that different. For example, at any given time in our group of friends, you could look around the room and see one or more of the following nationalities represented: American, French, British, Australian, Austrian, Maltese (yes, it’s a country- look it up), Mexican, Canadian and el Salvadorian. And that’s just the core group. But despite the geographic diversity, we always seem to find that one twenty-something is the same as the next. We are never at a loss for conversation, laughs, stories we have in common from home, a desire to eat good food, or a love for travel and exploration. Of course, there are the moments when we hit a cultural roadblock (like not knowing the slang specific to a certain country) or an “oh my god” moment (like when I found out that prefects actually exist in British schools, not just in Harry Potter), but these always make for a laugh and in the end.

Our winning trivia team, code name: "Maltese Magic"

On another note, I’ve come to appreciate even more how we as Americans have a very different view of our cultural identity than others. For example, I am 50% Greek, 25% Irish, and 25% German, but I consider myself American through and through. However, after talking to two full-fledged Greek people since being here, they don’t quite understand what that means. When I said to them, “Oh I’m half Greek,” they first asked if I speak Greek, then proceeded to demand why not when I admitted that I only knew a few words, then one even tried to tell me I wasn’t “Greek” because I did not know all the ins and outs of Greek life. Despite still practicing typical Greek traditions with my family each year, apparently I didn’t have that intangible and essential gene built into me that made me “Greek.”

It seems that by saying you are of one origin or another, to them that hinges more on having an undying loyalty to said country and its way of life, rather than a simple appreciation for where you come from, as do most Americans. All Americans have gotten the “What is your background?” question that asks what percentage of each “old country” a person is, but for most other citizens of the world, this question is redundant. In short, modern Americans are mutts, and we love it. Let's be honest: where else can you simultaneously claim the right to celebrate Greek Easter (complete with lamb and baklava) and St. Patrick’s Day (complete with green beer and shamrocks) as legitimate parts of your heritage?