The last couple of weeks were a nice getaway at the northern coastlines of Crete, but really, it would’ve been nice to get away anywhere else with The Husband. It’s not a return destination for me/us, but it was nice to see a different part of the world finally; I’ve spent my last 5 years of overseas travel all over Southeast Asia and a bit in France.
We traversed the roads in our rented car for the first 1/2 of the trip, pulling onto the sideroads of northern Crete as we encroached road signs that described certain landmarks as: ‘ancient’, ‘archaeological’, monastery, ‘best’ beach, ’sunny’ beach, and ‘famous’ beach. The primary pipeline of the New National Road, lead us east to west and back east again to different quaint villages and towns where we changed hotels every few days, that were situated sea side, or at ports.
During the second week, we stayed put at a simply decorated, charming, quiet-in-September hotel built atop the cliffs over the crystal clear, impossibly blue sea. The balcony of our room provided a scenic view out to nowhere as well, where I could spy scuba divers padding in the water, one of them being My Husband who decided on a whim to get his PADI certification in 3 days of full courses, and an ear infection as a bonus. I wandered to the ‘beach’ only once as it was comprised of pebbles and cigarette butts. The small slice of rubble was packed, the median age of fellow vacationers anywhere on the island was 60 years with an average weight class 80 kilo. or 180 lbs. I’d like to take this opportunity to share that there may be many obese Americans in the US, but overweight-edness, and fanny packs are not a chronic disease that discriminate amongst world citizens, so all you Europeans looking down on fat Americans should just tuck that arrogance back under your bermudas and into those sandals worn with cartoon-character-embroidered socks. On this vacation, everyone looked ‘American’, though there were very, very few actual Americans, and very, very, very many Europeans. I knew them because their eyes bore holes through my forehead nearly time I smiled at them. Stupid me. To be fair, there were a few nice couples - about 4 to be exact.
(Northern) Crete is primarily crawling with tourists from all over Europe and I was one of about 6 Asians spied on the north coast. I wasn’t oblivious of the stares, nor did I miss the two times that the same group of 4 walked past us as we sat reading at our table on the edge of the beach after lunch. The first time they walked by, I heard a distinct and exaggeratedly nasally, “Ni hao” as they walked by, never really addressing me directly. This means “How are you” and is the most common/only mandarin phrase that most non-Chinese around the world know. When others have tried this on me in the past, I’ve had time to respond in my limited Mandarin, and turn it around on them with a “How do you say this in your language?” to demonstrate that us Asians, we speak English too and many of us are multilingual. And we’re everywhere. I let it go as the group was already behind me. I heard it a second time as they past again an hour later, still not looking my way. Their backs were to me when I called out, “Excuse me.” They didn’t hear me. Louder this time. “Excuse me.” They turned from about 10 steps away, perhaps surprised that this ‘Chinese’ girl spoke out. “Did you say something to me?” I asked in English from where I sat. The perpetrator looked to his friend as if he had no idea what I was talking about and they huddled heads. His girlfriend turned and said, “No.He didn’t.” I dismissed her with my index finger and that charming European lifeless stare that I don’t engage often. “I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to your friend.” I didn’t use the adjective, “fat” even though he was. I repeated my question again. “Did you just say something to me?” I stayed calmly in my seat, though I was exponentially more agitated that he had the nerve to instigate a racial situation while lacking the dignity to deal with the confrontation by the offended person, whom just moments ago, was assumed to be so small a speciman that he could repeat the same act twice. He piped up finally still standing behind his girlfriend, with a denial at having said anything. I was satisfied that I’d clearly shocked and possibly put him on the spot enough with other lunching patrons looking on. Maybe even instilled an ounce of awareness that all Asians are not Chinese, we’re not all from China, and we’re not afraid to confront others when wronged. Perhaps next time, the Asian girl will not be pregnant. Maybe she’ll be Kung Fu master, as all Chinese are descendants of Bruce Lee and whoop his Greek (…) ass before returning to her seat to finish the tiny chocolate that came with her espresso. My husband, who hadn’t heard the guy, stared on as the exchange took place wondering why his little pregnant wife was picking fights in English with other tourists.
Away from my life in the little cocoon that the greater bay area of San Francisco and Southern California are, I’d almost forgotten how condescending people can be to those of different races, faces and features. I don’t mind educating others who stand still long enough for it, for example an Algerian in my French classes who would “Ni hao” me daily until I caught on and beat him to it every morning with the Algerian version and teaching him to say it in American English. I had the opportunity to explain my background to him - in grade school French - that aside from a few more family immigrations, my situation wasn’t so different from his. I explained that ‘ni hao‘ is mandarin, and that I am not a mandarin speaker, but that I do speak other languages, including perfect English. I find myself emphasizing this often, again, because common stereotypes all over the world seem to subscribe to the belief that The United States are are black and white; excluding Asians from the west.
I don’t mind poking fun at lingual stereotypes and accents; I parrot the French all the time in My Husband’s presence, pretending to clear the phlegm from my throat each time an “R” is required. And I’ve expressed my experiences with not understanding other Asians, regardless of whether they’re Chinese, Vietnamese or Khmer. The Husband’s less fluent English speaking friends poke fun at American English, exaggerating nasal pronunciations with a pinch of the nose (ironically), obviously unaware that the French own nasal tones. I do, however, mind underhandedness and passive aggressive attacks of any form. Having been privileged to be raised behind the curtains of a diverse community, I’d forgotten that beyond the fun and ‘my’ world back home, true ignorance exists beyond it’s own flimsy cloak of sophistication.
