ODD QUESTION

Several times today people asked me where I was from, presumably because of my accent. But a better question, with a less predictable answer, would be what language I think in. As far as numbers and counting are concerned, it's often in Dutch. With the mental image of the whole number and the decimals if applicable. Food is frequently in Chinese or Indonesian, complex concepts are in English. I doubt that such a split-up is rare among bi-linguals and multi-linguals, and it probably varies considerably from person to person.


In what language do you dream?


It depends on what I dream.

And who is talking in that dream, as well as whether I am listening to them. Food dreams tend to be the most diverse, which probably means that in many ways I remain unclear on my identity. Not Dutch. Not American.
Not definitely anything else.
But also, all of that.

My noodle preferences are largely southern Chinese.
Condimentally, very not American.
Junkfood? Dutch.

Plus Chinese, Indonesian, and Filipino prepared dishes. Fish sauce, dried fish, other salty ingredients, tanginess, and rich tastes. Food, of course, is not a national or ethnic identity. Consider all the people outside of Italy who list pizza as a favourite, or the world-wide fondness for herring.

Tea and curry are universal.

My citizenship is American, from birth. About which I'm slightly proud, but it does not really define me, nor for that matter any citizenship of any country would most people. The complexity of the modern world allows, as purely a hypothetical (and rhetorical) example, a German to watch Italian opera or an American murder mystery on his television while happily scarfing down a plate of microwave goulash. While on vacation in Morocco. That preference for Perry Mason or Carlo Tagliabue (who also sang in German, there may be subconscious reason there) defines him more than a scrap of paper or any fate of birth, though the latter may have a strong influence on his taste in entertainment and food. Goulash? Tagliabue? Morocco?

Like many Germans, he smokes Marlboro cigarettes, drinks Coca Cola™, and wears blue jeans. But he's not American; he's sure he's German.

The language of his dreams is almost certainly German.
Except for pop songs; those might be in English.

He has not considered his un-Germanness.


Most people automatically indulge in not contemplating how foreign they might actually be.


I'm kinda pissed that I was reminded of it so often today.


I do not have a foreign accent.


I'm not Canadian.




BTW: In Dutch, the word "vreemd" can mean 'unknown', 'strange', 'peculiar', 'odd', 'unnatural', as well as 'foreign', 'from somewhere else', 'non-native'.


P.S.: The "vreemdelingenpolitie" are NOT the detectives tasked with asking eccentrics odd questions.




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