Until I was about 13 years old, I didn’t know anything else other than Jewish. I attended a Jewish day school in Miami and took 10 years of Hebrew. Basically, I was on the fast track to playing Jewish geography and becoming an AEPi groupie at one of the Sushi 12 Conference schools.
However, that all changed when I transferred to an independent private high school. My friends no longer consisted of just Rosenthals, Schwartzs and Rosenbergs. I opened my eyes to a whole new wave of culture that I never knew existed and loved every minute of it. The token Jew among my Hispanic friends, I learned how to kiss on the cheek hello and how to LOVE a good pan con pollo.
Most importantly, I went from knowing no Spanish to almost complete fluency. No one ever showed up to a party before 11 and dinner was always at 9:30 or later. I had never even heard of Patagonia or Barbour before coming to Penn, and I sure as hell was not prepared for the amount of culture shock I was in for.
As first semester went by, I found where the Miami in me fit in. Any international scene was where my British roommate and I felt most comfortable. I was happy being my pseudo–Hispanic self and gelled with the international crowd far better than anyone else on campus.
But college isn’t about being comfortable all the time. While I’ve been lucky enough to have the opportunity to have friends from all over the world, I had forgotten what it was like to not be the “Latin” diva I thought I’d become. This realization came over me during my beginning weeks at Penn, and, in turn, I decided to branch out and see what it was like having friends from the good ol’ U S of A. Although dinner was at 7:30 or 8 instead of my usual 9:30 or 10 and consisted of a little less tapas and vino and a little more burgers and beer, we were drunk and happy regardless.
Besos chiquitos.
