I’m going to make a confession. When I’m in Canada, I don’t always put my paper Starbucks cup into the correct bin for recycling…*GASP*. Sometimes, I just toss it in the regular trash. But in Italy, I will literally walk around until I find the correct bin. It doesn’t matter if that bin is on the summit of Mount Everest. I will climb that metaphorical mountain. Which got me thinking…why the different behavior when in Canada vs. when in Italy? The reason is saddening in a sense, but logical in another. In Canada, I belong. I know I’m Canadian and as such, feel completely at liberty in my own country to behave in a way that I know is compliant with other Canadian behaviors and more importantly, I know where the cultural boundaries are. Instead in Italy, in public, I feel like I’m being watched. This may or may not be the case, perhaps I’m just suffering from feelings of grandeur but this is the sensation that drives my behavior on a daily basis. It’s disconcerting in many ways, one might even venture to say that I cannot be my authentic self under watchful Italian eyes. At the base of this is because I am constantly trying to be THE PERFECT IMMIGRANT. I’m an immigrant yes, but unlike some of my expat friends, people are pretty quick to put that label on me. I can’t hide under the guise of pretending to be Italian or any other nationality that is easily placed and given automatic respect like being a blonde-haired blue-eyed Swede. Because of this paranoia of mine, I find myself going the extra mile to do everything “right”, from recycling to Italian grammar, from eating dinner with the correct utensils to walking on the right side of the street. I make a point of returning my basket to the proper spot in the grocery store, even if all the other shoppers around me are leaving them scattered in front of the till. I make a big show of putting on the flimsy, little plastic glove before picking up fruits and vegetables. I use the formal “Lei” excessively, in situations that it probably shouldn’t even be used.
Fellow blogger friend Diane, an American in France, made the following statement in her post WHEN LIVING ABROAD TURNS YOU INTO A MODEL FOREIGNER:
"IT’S AS IF I’M OVERCOMPENSATING FOR MY NATIONALITY’S PERCEIVED SHORTCOMINGS".
Hers is an interesting perspective because of the negative perception many people have about Americans but it's not a reason for my own behaviour. I can't relate. Canada is normally a very well-received country when you're abroad, the issue is that Italians don't associate my tan, eye shape, or jet-black hair with my beloved country. These characterstics are associated by default with economically poor South Asian countries. They tell me I look like the Thai girls that they've seen on vacations and I turn away because I don't want to think about what they bought from those girls. The leering continues, but that's another story for another post.
All this overthinking and overcompensating is in an effort to convince the average Italian that in some way, I’m different, better, not to be slumped in a collective category of ignorant immigrants that refuse to integrate or don’t have a clue about how to function in a First World country. But I’m not different or better or more deserving, because ignorance isn’t the name of a document to be slotted in a folder with the words IMMIGRANT scrawled across the front. It is the very driving force as to why I feel compelled to think and behave in this way in the first place. If we could only learn to look at each other objectively, each and every individual person given a blank slate and only then, start building an opinion, there would be no need for someone like me to prove something. There would be no quest to be the perfect immigrant and I could just be me, a 29 year-old Canadian immigrant in Italy that occassionally recycles and speaks grammatically incorrect Italian at the worst moments.
If you enjoyed this post, you may also like to "dare un'occhiata" at these ones:
Random Everyday Things That Annoy Me in Italy
My Biggest Language-Related Pet Peeve: When Locals Switch to English
My Second Biggest Pet Peeve in Italy: Terrible English Translations
Musings on Being Racially Ambiguous in Italy
A Bad Expat Language Moment
Is the Grass Always Greener on the Other Side of the World?
Fellow blogger friend Diane, an American in France, made the following statement in her post WHEN LIVING ABROAD TURNS YOU INTO A MODEL FOREIGNER:
"IT’S AS IF I’M OVERCOMPENSATING FOR MY NATIONALITY’S PERCEIVED SHORTCOMINGS".
Hers is an interesting perspective because of the negative perception many people have about Americans but it's not a reason for my own behaviour. I can't relate. Canada is normally a very well-received country when you're abroad, the issue is that Italians don't associate my tan, eye shape, or jet-black hair with my beloved country. These characterstics are associated by default with economically poor South Asian countries. They tell me I look like the Thai girls that they've seen on vacations and I turn away because I don't want to think about what they bought from those girls. The leering continues, but that's another story for another post.
All this overthinking and overcompensating is in an effort to convince the average Italian that in some way, I’m different, better, not to be slumped in a collective category of ignorant immigrants that refuse to integrate or don’t have a clue about how to function in a First World country. But I’m not different or better or more deserving, because ignorance isn’t the name of a document to be slotted in a folder with the words IMMIGRANT scrawled across the front. It is the very driving force as to why I feel compelled to think and behave in this way in the first place. If we could only learn to look at each other objectively, each and every individual person given a blank slate and only then, start building an opinion, there would be no need for someone like me to prove something. There would be no quest to be the perfect immigrant and I could just be me, a 29 year-old Canadian immigrant in Italy that occassionally recycles and speaks grammatically incorrect Italian at the worst moments.
If you enjoyed this post, you may also like to "dare un'occhiata" at these ones:
Random Everyday Things That Annoy Me in Italy
My Biggest Language-Related Pet Peeve: When Locals Switch to English
My Second Biggest Pet Peeve in Italy: Terrible English Translations
Musings on Being Racially Ambiguous in Italy
A Bad Expat Language Moment
Is the Grass Always Greener on the Other Side of the World?
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