In a rambunctious Meatpacking District bar, I met a woman whose parents were German. She was tall, brown-haired and fair and had grown up in India. She had a Delhi accent.At a self-storage business, I met a manager who looked black. He had a courtly manner and a delightful accent, and his nametag said Seetram (Sitaram). He was surprised and pleased when I guessed Guyanese.
In college, the hardest partier in the entire coed dorm was a girl from a wealthy Bombay family… She once told me, ‘English is my native language, yaar. I can hardly speak Hindi.’ She had that aggressive Bombay accent, the hard one used by young men on the make, not the singsong one nor the Marathi tapori…
In Barcelona, a middle-aged cab driver with a rich baritone guessed I was Latin American, narrowing it down to either México or Costa Rica. He was very good, because I had picked up my Spanish from a costarricense teacher in a California high school. In his mind, the Hindú bit was of least importance.
In 1993 I rode my motorcycle from San Francisco to Seattle and back, pausing overnight at a remote motel in Crescent City near the California-Oregon border. The motel owner was happy to hear Hindi. It’s a pity I didn’t have Gujarati in my repertoire for that extra discount.
Congratulations, [the talented] Mr. Rupinder. You’ve successfully passed just this once. But you’re only as good as your last con.
hmm…I never hear Spanish or Hispanic folk talkin’ about how they get mistaken for desi on the reg?!? (And don’t tell me it’s just because they are more Latinos hear than Desis)
Maybe it’s because there aren’t as many Latinos who speak Hindi, Urdu, etc.
Just my 2 cents…
And Manish, the same thing happens in my neighborhood- I’m often spoken to in Spanish, but I can’t keep the ruse going as long as you can!
This used to happen to me regularly here in DC, mostly while waiting for the bus. Friendly Latino person asks me something in Spanish. I shrug my shoulders, and they look at me funny.
Then I learned a few choice words. Someone would ask me what time it was, or when the next bus was coming, and I’d reply: “No habla Espanol.” This would elicit a smile or laugh, and they would ask me something else that would stump me. So then I picked up another phrase. Thereafter, my Spanish conversations went like this: “No habla Espanol. Yo soy de India.” (I am from India.)
“Oh, de India?! blah blah blah” Man, that would get them going. I’m sure they were telling me how I didn’t look Indian, they thought I was latino, etc.. I don’t take the bus anymore so my Spanish has gotten rusty, but I am still ‘de India.’
I was mistaken for Dutch the last time I was in Amsterdam (there are more browns in Holland than you might expect – I think it is b/c of Surinam) – but the only reason was because I knew enough to laugh at the silly tourists trying to get on the trams at the front. The conductor (at the back), saw me laughing, and said something to me in Dutch. Too bad I only know the Dutch phrases for please, thank you, and shopping! 😉
I’ve NEVER been mistaken for Spanish in Spain -maybe b/c I travel around with another brown girl? We’ve even been serenaded with Hindi songs (?!?)
-D
swoooooon 🙂
Hey, deepa, here’s one for you. My cousin spent some time in Spain a few years ago. She was on a bus in Madrid, and a man sat down beside her. A few minutes later, he started noting, in Spanish, that she was Indian, rather excitedly, as if it had just dawned on him.
She was really annoyed. Big deal, so she’s Indian visiting Spain, why’s he making such a big deal out of this? After she gave him the stink eye for long enough, he grinned widely, and told her he was Indian as well. She had assumed he was a Spaniard.
Also, your story about being serenaded has me looking up plane tickets right now… swoon, indeed.
I think its really cool that you have loads of Spanish people in America.
deepa
I noticed that in Amsterdam too the first time I went there when I was 18 I saw Desi’s everywhere and I was thinking whats this man who are these Dutch Desi’s? So after a long day’s smoking I bumped into a Sardarji who owned a shop and he explained that they were from this strange place called Surinam. And then I ate three Danish pastries, french fries and Hot Dogs and stared at a tree.
More travel experiences:
London. New Year’s Eve Party. This guy told me, “I’m sorry – it’s just so weird that you look like THAT and have an American accent.” What was even funnier is that he was an East Asian Brit, so I was able to say “Um, ditto!”
Paris. French grandma out of central casting (slightly stooped, rolled stockings, perma-cardigan) mistook me for French. She told me not to wear a backpack because it made me look like an American tourist, but that she knew I wasn’t because of my shoes. (NB: Don’t wear sneakers if you are trying to “blend in” unless you are actively running or rockin’ a truly sportif outfit.)
The Tube in London. Someone asked me for directions. Gave them in my very American accented English. Someone else asked me for other directions. Repeat. Repeat. This truly shocked me b/c everyone on that train knew that I was not British, let alone from London.
Hostel. I knew it would happen, and when it did, I knew the “accused” would be American. This guy from Iowa told me, “Your English is pretty good, actually.” I said, “Yeah, it should be, I’m American.”
-D
I was mistaken for an Israeli when I was in Peru. I was mistaken for a Saudi when I was in Jordon. I was mistaken for an Italian in the mall parking lot.
..Somebody once mistook me for a Martian….I was so SHOCKED !!!
Brimful, that was a funny anecdote. I could totally see myself acting like your cousin…
i get ethiopian/eritrean all the time.
subash chandra bose said
I used to know a hispanic girl who was often mistaken for desi, by other desis. I suspect it was by really fresh FOBs (mean no disrespect… i’m one) who were eager to meet other desis.
Also: Netaji, good to know that you’re alive.
And, more about desi-diaspora in Surinam : http://www.saxakali.com/indocarib/sojourner6.htm
I’ve done this a couple of times, once with a ROTC cadet whose parents were white and desi, once with the ambiguously brown guy at the front desk at my gym. It’s embarrassing, you go from ‘why is this person being excessively friendly’ to ‘I can’t believe I missed that.’
In Prague, I was once accosted on the street by a black man dressed in what I assume was 18th century European formalwear who was passing out flyers for a Mozart concert, and who correctly guessed that I was Sri Lankan. I was impressed, but unable to attend the concert.